Bandfic: Untitled Brendon/Spencer Hugging Ficlet
Written for t-usual-suspect's Spencer Needs a Hug meme.
It's not the first time that Brendon's hugged him, of course.
That would have been sometime way back at the beginning: the first time they realized that their very first song had, like, verses and a repeated chorus, bridges and notes and an ending, maybe. Or it could have been after they played the song all the way through for the first time, no screw-ups, no aborted measures while one or the other of them said, "That doesn't fucking sound right, you guys."
It'd definitely happened by the time they got their record contract, when they all started leaping around Spencer's grandma's basement, shouting and clinging to each other and saying things like, "No fucking way. No fucking *way*."
It's not like their group has ever been stingy with hugs either, first with Brent, then with Jon: arms draped around shoulders before running out on stage, quick squeezes of 'good luck,' 'congratulations,' 'can you fucking believe they're paying us to do this for a living?' Those sorts of things.
This is different, though, because *this* is Brendon deliberately walking up to him in the kitchenette, wrapping his arms around Spencer, and *squeezing* for all he's worth, his face pressed to the side of Spencer's neck. It goes on until Spencer's arms finally come around Brendon, too; until he gives Brendon a light squeeze of his own. It goes on until he feels like he's about ready to start twitching, to ask, 'What the hell, dude?'
*That's* when Brendon disentangles himself, grins at Spencer, and goes on his merry way, like he hasn't done anything out of the ordinary at all.
It's quite possible, Spencer thinks, that Brendon doesn't think he has.
It's not until about three hugs later (once at a venue, once before some industry thing, once in the parking lot of a Quick Trip) that Spencer realizes that a) it's been going on for a whole lot longer than four hugs, and b) that there's actually method to Brendon's madness. Or, well, Brendon's method anyway.
Because these hugs, the bone crushing ones, the ones that threaten to lift Spencer up onto his toes, only seem to come when his shoulders are riding just a little bit higher than usual, the muscles just a little bit too tight. When he's rolling his head from side to side, pressing fingers to the side of his neck and rubbing.
They only come after interviews that take too long, asking the same questions over and over; or when Spencer catches a whiff of his mother's perfume on the air and he gets so homesick he feels like he wants to throw up; or when he's tired and grumpy and the only thing he wants to do is curl up in his bunk with a magazine for hours, not go out onstage and play.
He notices then: Brendon watching him, a small frown on his face; the way he twitches, too, like he's trying to sit still, trying, until he finally can't anymore; the way he just steps right into Spencer's personal space like he belongs there.
And the thing is, Spencer starts being able to read his *own* signs, and while he doesn't particularly ever want to be in one of those moods to begin with? Well, the end result maybe isn't so bad.
Then:
One day, he comes onto the bus to find Brendon standing at the kitchenette counter, his back to Spencer, shoulders high and tight. He's got a water bottle in his hand and Spencer can see his white knuckled grip. He watches for a moment, another, and then he thinks, *fuck it*, and steps forward, right into Brendon's space.
As he's moving, Brendon turns to look at him. He opens his mouth, probably to ask a 'what?' of some sort, but Spencer wraps his arms around him before he can, fingers brushing tight shoulder blades. He squeezes, holds on until Brendon lets out a breath and relaxes, arms finally coming around Spencer, too, his face pressing into the curve of Spencer's neck.
"Hi," Brendon says after a few long moments, but he doesn't seem to be getting twitchy, isn't giving any indication that he wants Spencer to let go. So Spencer says, "Hi," back and, well.
He just keeps holding on.
It's not the first time that Brendon's hugged him, of course.
That would have been sometime way back at the beginning: the first time they realized that their very first song had, like, verses and a repeated chorus, bridges and notes and an ending, maybe. Or it could have been after they played the song all the way through for the first time, no screw-ups, no aborted measures while one or the other of them said, "That doesn't fucking sound right, you guys."
It'd definitely happened by the time they got their record contract, when they all started leaping around Spencer's grandma's basement, shouting and clinging to each other and saying things like, "No fucking way. No fucking *way*."
It's not like their group has ever been stingy with hugs either, first with Brent, then with Jon: arms draped around shoulders before running out on stage, quick squeezes of 'good luck,' 'congratulations,' 'can you fucking believe they're paying us to do this for a living?' Those sorts of things.
This is different, though, because *this* is Brendon deliberately walking up to him in the kitchenette, wrapping his arms around Spencer, and *squeezing* for all he's worth, his face pressed to the side of Spencer's neck. It goes on until Spencer's arms finally come around Brendon, too; until he gives Brendon a light squeeze of his own. It goes on until he feels like he's about ready to start twitching, to ask, 'What the hell, dude?'
*That's* when Brendon disentangles himself, grins at Spencer, and goes on his merry way, like he hasn't done anything out of the ordinary at all.
It's quite possible, Spencer thinks, that Brendon doesn't think he has.
It's not until about three hugs later (once at a venue, once before some industry thing, once in the parking lot of a Quick Trip) that Spencer realizes that a) it's been going on for a whole lot longer than four hugs, and b) that there's actually method to Brendon's madness. Or, well, Brendon's method anyway.
Because these hugs, the bone crushing ones, the ones that threaten to lift Spencer up onto his toes, only seem to come when his shoulders are riding just a little bit higher than usual, the muscles just a little bit too tight. When he's rolling his head from side to side, pressing fingers to the side of his neck and rubbing.
They only come after interviews that take too long, asking the same questions over and over; or when Spencer catches a whiff of his mother's perfume on the air and he gets so homesick he feels like he wants to throw up; or when he's tired and grumpy and the only thing he wants to do is curl up in his bunk with a magazine for hours, not go out onstage and play.
He notices then: Brendon watching him, a small frown on his face; the way he twitches, too, like he's trying to sit still, trying, until he finally can't anymore; the way he just steps right into Spencer's personal space like he belongs there.
And the thing is, Spencer starts being able to read his *own* signs, and while he doesn't particularly ever want to be in one of those moods to begin with? Well, the end result maybe isn't so bad.
Then:
One day, he comes onto the bus to find Brendon standing at the kitchenette counter, his back to Spencer, shoulders high and tight. He's got a water bottle in his hand and Spencer can see his white knuckled grip. He watches for a moment, another, and then he thinks, *fuck it*, and steps forward, right into Brendon's space.
As he's moving, Brendon turns to look at him. He opens his mouth, probably to ask a 'what?' of some sort, but Spencer wraps his arms around him before he can, fingers brushing tight shoulder blades. He squeezes, holds on until Brendon lets out a breath and relaxes, arms finally coming around Spencer, too, his face pressing into the curve of Spencer's neck.
"Hi," Brendon says after a few long moments, but he doesn't seem to be getting twitchy, isn't giving any indication that he wants Spencer to let go. So Spencer says, "Hi," back and, well.
He just keeps holding on.