Angeles
“Two weeks”, Shane answers casually and Spencer might or might not choke on the smoke he’s still holding in his lungs.
“Two weeks?” He lets it sink in and looks at Shane with a mix of trepidation and amazement. “You… that’s fucking animal cruelty or something, Shane.”
“After what he’s done, I’m thinking I’ve been pretty generous.”
Spencer briefly contemplates what Ryan would do if he hadn’t gotten off in two weeks, but it really doesn’t even bear thinking about.
“So you haven’t done anything for two weeks?” Cause if that’s the case, Spencer would like to know how Shane’s not climbing walls instead of sitting on the couch cross-legged doing his best Buddha impression.
“I never said that. I just said he didn’t get off.”
Which makes it worse, Spencer’s pretty sure.
“Dude. Remind me to never piss you off?”
Shane just grins.
“But yeah, thing is, we’re clear. We got the results yesterday and everything’s good.”
Spencer nods and Shane looks at him for a long moment, searching.
“Spence, I want you to know you don’t have to, okay? It’s a hell of a lot to ask and I know that. So if you’re having any second thoughts whatsoever, that’s fine.”
Spencer doesn’t, and maybe he should be a lot more worried about that.
“I trust you”, is what he says instead, cause at the end of the day, it really is that simple.
Shane doesn’t reply, but he keeps looking straight at Spencer and something’s happening in his eyes, something that translates into a promise Spencer knows is never going to be broken.
“What about Ryan?” Shane asks quietly, finally breaking the silence.
And that’s… that’s the part Spencer is struggling with, in a word. Cause Ryan said exactly the same thing. That he trusted Spencer. With a decision that could potentially mean fucking up Ryan’s life. Endangering Ryan’s life. Taking Ryan’s life. And yeah, maybe he’s being a little dramatic here, but fuck, he’s gay and the whole thing about protection is a big fucking deal, okay?
“Ryan said he trusts me,” Spencer replies quietly and he can see Shane swallowing hard, then nodding.
“We really… we can’t fuck this up,” Shane mumbles softly and Spencer smiles at him.
“You wouldn’t.” Cause there isn’t any possible alternative universe where Shane would put Brendon in danger, let alone ever contemplate fucking around, Spencer’s sure of that.
“We wouldn’t,” Shane corrects quietly and Spencer can’t argue with that, cause cheating on Ryan isn’t even. Well, whatever. It just isn’t.
“So, what’s the big plan, anyway?” Spencer inquires, cause he actually has no idea. Well, there is, pretty obviously, bare-backing involved, but still, he kinda wants specifics.
Shane blushes and Spencer’s kinda glad he’s passed on the joint, cause he never in a million years would have thought Shane’s got it in him to blush anymore. The silly giggle escaping his throat makes Shane look up at him with a small, embarrassed grin.
“Yeah. Okay, so I maybe feel a bit stupid about this. It’s. You know what Brendon and I are like, we tried pretty much everything. But I never… I never even told him.”
And yeah, the part where Spencer is curious and internally clapping his hands like an overly excitable thirteen year old girl is totally not happening in any way anyone could possibly see, so it’s not a big deal, right? Spencer can be a man about this. Supportive friend and all.
“You’re having too much fun with my darkest secrets, Spence. Don’t think I don’t see it.”
Damn. Spencer apparently needs to work on the pokerface.
“Maybe so,” he concedes. “You’re still gonna tell me, right?”
“Okay. So. I kinda. We kinda… worked up to it. For the last two weeks. I… I tied him up a lot and blindfolded him and all that, so, that’s how… that’s what I wanna start with. I don’t want him to know it’s gonna be different.”
Spencer does the math while Shane reaches for another joint.
“Hang on. You’re telling me you’ve done all that without him getting off?” Cause Spencer would very much like to know how that’s even possible.
“Well, yeah. I mean, we started with cock-rings, but. Seems like he’s doing okay without by now.”
“God, you suck,” Spencer blurts out, cause he’s not the least bit surprised that Brendon’s been fucking fidgety lately. Even for Brendon’s standards, that is, which basically translates into utterly intolerable.
Shane grins. “Yeah, I know, alright? Gotta admit, though, the shows were pretty awesome.”
He’s got a point, Spencer has to concede, but still. “No, you suck. Seriously.” He doesn’t manage to really sound indignant though, what with the fucking awe and whatever else might be in his voice right now.
“So, the plan is, I want this to go down before you go out to play the last show. I mean, everyone’s gonna be there, right?”
They finish the tour in LA this time, so yeah, everyone, their brother and his dog have already been invited. Spencer’s suddenly not sure he’s ready to deal with the amount of devious that’s glistening in Shane’s eyes when he gives a small nod.
“Cool. So. Right.” Shane clears his throat and the blush reappears.
“I want you to fuck him. I mean, all of us. Kinda. And… I kinda wanna time it so he’s gotta get on stage really soon after that. I’m. He’s kinda been wearing plugs a lot recently, so that’s not new… but.”
Spencer will fucking stop smoking pot in moments like this, cause the coughing seriously doesn’t do his lungs any favours and it’s quite simply a waste of product.
“You… on stage?” he chokes out, but Shane just nods with that smile. The one that makes it very clear he’s aware Spencer’s about three hundred shades of turned on just thinking about that. And yeah, Spencer’s not a good enough actor to hide it.
“You gonna come in your pants if I told you the plug we’ve been using is remote controlled?” Shane asks with a smile and while Spencer doesn’t, he totally could. Right there. As it is, he buries his head in his hands.
“You’re telling me, that… for two fucking weeks, you’ve been doing this to him? And now you want everyone fucking him into the floor, without condoms, I’d assume, otherwise the whole secret HIV test thing would have been pretty pointless, and then, you want him to play a show with… um…”
“Our jizz up his ass? That, in a nutshell, was the plan, yeah,” Shane finishes smoothly. “You game?”
In all honesty, how could anyone not be?
“Just… how am I even gonna make it through the gig?”
Shane grins. “You never fuck up, remember? Well, okay, that one time…”
“No, shut the fuck up.”
Cause Spencer made one mistake live. One. Ever. He still hasn’t lived it down and he doubts he ever will. Fucking Atlanta.
“Point is, Brendon’s survived the shows so far, so. You’ll be alright. Also, we’re all in the same boat, cause I’ll be filming it.”
“Jon won’t know what hit him.”
“Jon’s already in on it. We agreed he doesn’t want in on the actual… you know. Ass-part, as he so eloquently put it, he’s happy to play the not-so-gay part of fucking Brendon’s mouth while we get on with the rest of the fun.”
“How exactly is there a not-so-gay part to any of it, seriously?”
Shane shrugs and Spencer mirrors the motion.
“Jon,” they both sigh at exactly the same moment before giggling their stupid asses off. Cause, in Saporta’s undying words: Jon’s pretty gay for a dude who prefers pussy.
“It’s… Christ. So unprofessional,” Spencer mumbles, cause fuck, is it ever. Their A&R is gonna be there, possibly dragging a wife and child along, and while Spencer doesn’t really think of Pete in any way that even involves the word professional, it’s still…
“So wrong.”
Shane nods. “You don’t have to, Spence.”
And that’s probably the most stupid thing Spencer has ever heard Shane Valdez say, seriously.
“Yeah right. Like I’d ever get over saying no to this.”
It becomes even more unbearable to watch Brendon after that conversation, knowing why he’s this hyper and not being able to do or say anything about it. It’s damn near impossible to keep a straight face every morning when they read their schedules over coffee and the date of the last show is being pushed up on the sheets of paper Zack hands out.
Ryan’s the kind of guy who is cruel enough to turn their make-out sessions all but public, he’s all over Spencer constantly and Spencer can feel him grinning into the kisses while Brendon’s watching from somewhere biting his lip. Okay, so maybe Spencer doesn’t exactly argue the point.
Shane keeps close to Brendon, keeps touching him, hugging him, occasionally looking at Ryan and Spencer with a small smile while he oh-so-accidentally grinds against Brendon’s crotch. Spencer’s pretty sure that they’re all going to hell.
When the day finally rolls around, Brendon’s not the only one who fidgets anymore. There’s so much nervous anticipation around that the sound check pretty much goes to shit, but they all know they’ll pull together for the show. They always have.
Zack throws around a lot of questioning glances and eventually, he calls Spencer on it. Spencer blushes and bites back a grin and he’s never seen Zack Hall looking at him like this.
“Dude, okay, I don’t really need to know. Oh fuck, my brain,” he mumbles and turns away and the reply of “No loss there” comes the fraction of a second to late for Spencer’s usual repartee, but whatever. Zack will deal, that’s kinda what Zack’s all about.
They get back to the hotel without anyone else interfering and everyone throws vague excuses about naps and phone-calls and showers at Brendon before joining forces in Spencer’s and Ryan’s room, leaving Shane and Brendon to it for the time being. They’re better at stealthy then Spencer ever dared to hope. Then again, it’s probably not that difficult cause Brendon’s attention is focused on the fact his balls are turning purple or whatever.
They share a couple of bong hits to pass the waiting time (actually, that’s not even true, cause Jon’s smoking up to rival Bob Marley in his hey-day and Spencer and Ryan are pretty much knocked out by the contact high alone) and Shane eventually sends a text to Spencer’s phone.
Spencer’s kinda the guy who should probably offer reassurance to the others, what with the top thing, but yeah, it’s not happening. Ryan’s chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully for a moment after they all heard the cell beeping, then he smiles.
“Come on, guys. Brendon.”
That’s all it takes. Ryan sounds so… well, ridiculously in love, basically, soft and caring and awed. He manages to make Brendon’s name sound like it sums up everything good in this world. In monotone. Spencer has no idea how that even works.
Shane opens the door very quietly, looking exactly like Ryan sounded and Spencer can’t help the quick surge of warmth and tenderness coursing through him, cause fuck, these guys. All of them.
Jon, just grinning at Shane very briefly and glancing over Shane’s shoulder, looking at Brendon like that. And Brendon… yeah. Brendon spread out and tied up and blindfolded and so very calm, so relaxed. It’s such a sharp contrast to the nervous energy that has even been more palpable then it usually is during the last few weeks, it’s fucking blinding.
He’s naked and hard and his lips are slightly parted, but there isn’t even a hint of urgency betraying he hasn’t been getting off pretty much forever, his breaths are slow and deliberate, his hands curled into loose fists on the white blankets, his head thrown back into the cushions…
Yeah, Spencer’s gone, okay? Spencer knows what being part of something awesome feels like, has known for a long time. Spencer’s got a family he loves and a band that keeps blowing his mind by being incredible, but all that doesn’t even compare right now, cause this? Different league. Different stratosphere, even.
Shane holds out a hand to Jon and guides him closer to the bed without a sound, Spencer and Ryan follow when he throws them a glance and fuck, Spencer wants some extra credit for the stealth, seriously.
Brendon’s breathing doesn’t change, he doesn’t know they’re here and apparently, Shane has no mind to change that just yet, cause he starts talking softly when they’re all close enough Brendon should hear them, pick up on their presence, somehow. Jon, all evil genius, had suggested they change into hotel bathrobes, pointing out that he’s not up to undressing in sync with three horny faggots, cause “you know, you might have practised shit like that, but there’s the part where I’m kinda straight”. Jon doesn’t look all that straight from where Spencer’s standing right now, what with him carefully swinging one leg over Brendon’s torso, straddling his chest.
Shane keeps his face close to Jon’s, still talking and Spencer’s pretty sure Brendon still has no idea it’s not actually his boyfriend climbing on top of him.
“You’ve been really good about this, Bren. You’ve been fucking amazing. I’m proud of you.”
Brendon’s expression changes into something you can’t really call a smile without selling it short, his whole face lights up at Shane’s words.
“So proud of you”, Shane repeats and nudges Jon forward a little, guiding his hips so his cock slides into Brendon’s mouth easily and nodding at Ryan and Spencer at exactly the same time.
They don’t need a written invitation to get their hands on Brendon’s body everywhere they can reach and Brendon doesn’t tense, doesn’t freeze, just stills for a moment before whimpering around Jon’s dick in his mouth and the look on Shane’s face at Brendon’s reaction isn’t one anyone can put into words, not even Ryan.
What Ryan can do and what he does, without a second’s hesitation, is to lean down and push two fingers into Brendon watching Brendon arch into it with another whimper and Spencer knows Brendon knows it’s Ryan doing that, cause Ryan’s hands are pretty unmistakeable.
Watching Ryan fucking Brendon is, quite simply, stunningly beautiful. He takes it slow and deep and he’s holding Spencer’s gaze, bottom lip caught between his teeth in wonder and concentration as he pushes in and yeah, he’s giving this his all and if the small noises Brendon makes as Jon is gently fucking his face are anything to go by, Brendon’s pretty impressed with the effort.
Ryan comes deep inside Brendon with a helpless, ragged moan that Spencer hasn’t ever heard before, closing his eyes and arching his back and trembling and… yeah. Fuck. There’s still no urgency to anything Brendon’s doing, he’s just lying there making those tiny noises, but when Spencer looks at his face, he can see the black silk of the blindfold’s wet, but Shane’s already leaning down, whispering in Brendon’s ear loud enough for all of them to hear it.
“It’s okay, Bren. It’s okay. Fuck, you’re amazing. So beautiful”, and Shane’s voice is breaking slightly at the end of the sentence, but he glances up at Spencer and nods, so Spencer moves to take Ryan’s place when Ryan pulls out and pushes in and…
Jesus. No seriously, different doesn’t begin to cover it. He almost comes right then, the sensations of warm-wet-pulse-skin damn close to too much, too intense, too raw (and yeah, screw the pun, cause it is, damn it).
He stills, adjusting to something that’s utterly impossible to adjust to and it feels like Brendon’s heartbeat’s pulsing through both of them, and yeah, fuck it. He moves and the whole slow and gentle thing isn’t happening, he pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in again and Brendon’s whole body tenses, his head jerking forward. Apparently, that’s Jon’s cue to follow suit with forgetting about the careful and everything turns into a frantic cacophony of too much, culminating in Spencer coming inside Brendon after a few hard thrusts and fuck, Spencer could come from the sensation of coming even though that makes no sense whatsoever to anyone.
Spencer almost doesn’t realize that it’s actually him doing all that groaning until he’s brought back to the planet by Jon gasping in a slightly more dignified manner as he shoots down Brendon’s throat, climbing off just to attach his lips where his cock’s just been and if Spencer still had a brain, he’d probably wonder how exactly Jon still clings to the mostly-straight idea even in his own mind.
Brain-functions aren’t exactly up there right now though, Spencer’s pretty pleased with himself for summoning the physical control to pull out of Brendon and pretty much collapse next to Ryan on the bed.
The last part makes Spencer wish he’d paid more attention in his literature classes, but maybe the words would need inventing, anyway. Maybe shit like this just hasn’t ever been witnessed by anyone before and there are blanks in the dictionary to be filled by someone with more imagination then Spencer Smith.
He’s not even thinking beautiful or hot or anything, he’s feeling it, feeling it in the way Shane removes the blindfold and looks into Brendon’s eyes, feeling it in the smile Shane gives Brendon and in the way Brendon gives it right back, small almost shy.
They don’t break eye-contact for even a second and while Shane fucking anyone always makes for quality entertainment, this isn’t even real. It’s so intimate it should feel wrong to watch, only it doesn’t. It just feels special and incredible to be allowed to share this, to be part of what they have.
There’s no talking and no begging and no commands, they just come at exactly the same time, still staring into each other, tears streaming down Brendon’s face and all Spencer can do is hold the fuck onto Ryan and do his best to pretend that he’s not a little choked up himself. Ryan just buries his head against Spencer’s shoulder and clings back, so maybe he isn’t the only one who’s got trouble computing this.
Shane manages to pull out after collapsing on top of Brendon, manages to gently push the plug into Brendon while Brendon’s catching up on a lifetime of oxygen deprivation if the ragged breaths are anything to go by.
“Just so you remember we’re always with you, Bren”, he whispers and yeah, fuck. What can anyone add to that, seriously?
Twenty minutes later, they get to the venue and they’ve got ten minutes to spare before they’ve actually gotta play a show and while everyone backstage has been busy loosing their rag cause no one could get a hold of the band, Zack needs one look at them to abandon all plans of manslaughter and another one to silence everyone else who might think about complaining, cause Zack’s awesome.
“Okay, I don’t wanna know, never ever do this to me again, blablabla,” he grumbles, bright smile carefully averted. “God, you suck. I’m surrounded by idiots, I’m changing my job and moving to Alaska so I can wear flannel shirts and escape the goddamn overwhelming GAY.”
Zack’s still beaming like a scary 300-pound proud mother-in-law when he ushers them toward the stairs, so Spencer isn’t really worried about finding a new security guy. In fact, Spencer isn’t worried period.
He knows you sometimes get that feeling right before a show, that hunch that whatever’s gonna go down is gonna be memorable. This is that feeling times a thousand. They shred. They’ve never, ever managed to pull the stops out like this, bring it together like this. It’s a blur of small glances exchanged between everyone and incredulous grins of “holy shit, I didn’t even know you could do that” going back and forth, cause none of them have ever played this well, ever.
It’s magic, pretty much. It’s the show to end all shows and silence all critics, it’s one continuous stream of everything working out and then some, of everyone following each other’s lead without even knowing how the fuck they manage it, it’s their thing, their friendship, translating into chords and beats and lyrics and they kill.
When they collapse on the ratty couches backstage afterwards, drenched in sweat and stunned into silence, it takes about thirty seconds before Pete comes to find them and he stands in the door staring for a long moment, apparently lost for words. This is Pete fucking Wentz, so that’s a big deal.
He looks at them, shakes his head and looks some more.
“No, seriously? Seriously? What the fuck was that?” he finally manages, very quietly, and Spencer concludes that he isn’t the only one who has trouble finding words to express what has just gone down, cause if Pete Wentz can’t turn it into a lyric, nobody can. He doesn’t give a fuck though, he just knows he wants to make it last.
----
A/N: And that's it, guys. Seriously, I fucking hate to tell you this was the last one, cause I loved this Verse so very much, but.
Bottom line? I don't think I can top this part and I wanna end the series on a high note. Thanks to all of you for one hell of a ride.
If you're lusting for more or want any loose ends tied up, there's a Q&A right here, feel free to ask away. I could also potentially be persuaded to upload the songs I've taken the titles from if someone wants them, cause Elliott Smith is right up there with the awesome and I personally think he never quite got enough recognition for that. And yeah, just. Thanks, people.
“Two weeks?” He lets it sink in and looks at Shane with a mix of trepidation and amazement. “You… that’s fucking animal cruelty or something, Shane.”
“After what he’s done, I’m thinking I’ve been pretty generous.”
Spencer briefly contemplates what Ryan would do if he hadn’t gotten off in two weeks, but it really doesn’t even bear thinking about.
“So you haven’t done anything for two weeks?” Cause if that’s the case, Spencer would like to know how Shane’s not climbing walls instead of sitting on the couch cross-legged doing his best Buddha impression.
“I never said that. I just said he didn’t get off.”
Which makes it worse, Spencer’s pretty sure.
“Dude. Remind me to never piss you off?”
Shane just grins.
“But yeah, thing is, we’re clear. We got the results yesterday and everything’s good.”
Spencer nods and Shane looks at him for a long moment, searching.
“Spence, I want you to know you don’t have to, okay? It’s a hell of a lot to ask and I know that. So if you’re having any second thoughts whatsoever, that’s fine.”
Spencer doesn’t, and maybe he should be a lot more worried about that.
“I trust you”, is what he says instead, cause at the end of the day, it really is that simple.
Shane doesn’t reply, but he keeps looking straight at Spencer and something’s happening in his eyes, something that translates into a promise Spencer knows is never going to be broken.
“What about Ryan?” Shane asks quietly, finally breaking the silence.
And that’s… that’s the part Spencer is struggling with, in a word. Cause Ryan said exactly the same thing. That he trusted Spencer. With a decision that could potentially mean fucking up Ryan’s life. Endangering Ryan’s life. Taking Ryan’s life. And yeah, maybe he’s being a little dramatic here, but fuck, he’s gay and the whole thing about protection is a big fucking deal, okay?
“Ryan said he trusts me,” Spencer replies quietly and he can see Shane swallowing hard, then nodding.
“We really… we can’t fuck this up,” Shane mumbles softly and Spencer smiles at him.
“You wouldn’t.” Cause there isn’t any possible alternative universe where Shane would put Brendon in danger, let alone ever contemplate fucking around, Spencer’s sure of that.
“We wouldn’t,” Shane corrects quietly and Spencer can’t argue with that, cause cheating on Ryan isn’t even. Well, whatever. It just isn’t.
“So, what’s the big plan, anyway?” Spencer inquires, cause he actually has no idea. Well, there is, pretty obviously, bare-backing involved, but still, he kinda wants specifics.
Shane blushes and Spencer’s kinda glad he’s passed on the joint, cause he never in a million years would have thought Shane’s got it in him to blush anymore. The silly giggle escaping his throat makes Shane look up at him with a small, embarrassed grin.
“Yeah. Okay, so I maybe feel a bit stupid about this. It’s. You know what Brendon and I are like, we tried pretty much everything. But I never… I never even told him.”
And yeah, the part where Spencer is curious and internally clapping his hands like an overly excitable thirteen year old girl is totally not happening in any way anyone could possibly see, so it’s not a big deal, right? Spencer can be a man about this. Supportive friend and all.
“You’re having too much fun with my darkest secrets, Spence. Don’t think I don’t see it.”
Damn. Spencer apparently needs to work on the pokerface.
“Maybe so,” he concedes. “You’re still gonna tell me, right?”
“Okay. So. I kinda. We kinda… worked up to it. For the last two weeks. I… I tied him up a lot and blindfolded him and all that, so, that’s how… that’s what I wanna start with. I don’t want him to know it’s gonna be different.”
Spencer does the math while Shane reaches for another joint.
“Hang on. You’re telling me you’ve done all that without him getting off?” Cause Spencer would very much like to know how that’s even possible.
“Well, yeah. I mean, we started with cock-rings, but. Seems like he’s doing okay without by now.”
“God, you suck,” Spencer blurts out, cause he’s not the least bit surprised that Brendon’s been fucking fidgety lately. Even for Brendon’s standards, that is, which basically translates into utterly intolerable.
Shane grins. “Yeah, I know, alright? Gotta admit, though, the shows were pretty awesome.”
He’s got a point, Spencer has to concede, but still. “No, you suck. Seriously.” He doesn’t manage to really sound indignant though, what with the fucking awe and whatever else might be in his voice right now.
“So, the plan is, I want this to go down before you go out to play the last show. I mean, everyone’s gonna be there, right?”
They finish the tour in LA this time, so yeah, everyone, their brother and his dog have already been invited. Spencer’s suddenly not sure he’s ready to deal with the amount of devious that’s glistening in Shane’s eyes when he gives a small nod.
“Cool. So. Right.” Shane clears his throat and the blush reappears.
“I want you to fuck him. I mean, all of us. Kinda. And… I kinda wanna time it so he’s gotta get on stage really soon after that. I’m. He’s kinda been wearing plugs a lot recently, so that’s not new… but.”
Spencer will fucking stop smoking pot in moments like this, cause the coughing seriously doesn’t do his lungs any favours and it’s quite simply a waste of product.
“You… on stage?” he chokes out, but Shane just nods with that smile. The one that makes it very clear he’s aware Spencer’s about three hundred shades of turned on just thinking about that. And yeah, Spencer’s not a good enough actor to hide it.
“You gonna come in your pants if I told you the plug we’ve been using is remote controlled?” Shane asks with a smile and while Spencer doesn’t, he totally could. Right there. As it is, he buries his head in his hands.
“You’re telling me, that… for two fucking weeks, you’ve been doing this to him? And now you want everyone fucking him into the floor, without condoms, I’d assume, otherwise the whole secret HIV test thing would have been pretty pointless, and then, you want him to play a show with… um…”
“Our jizz up his ass? That, in a nutshell, was the plan, yeah,” Shane finishes smoothly. “You game?”
In all honesty, how could anyone not be?
“Just… how am I even gonna make it through the gig?”
Shane grins. “You never fuck up, remember? Well, okay, that one time…”
“No, shut the fuck up.”
Cause Spencer made one mistake live. One. Ever. He still hasn’t lived it down and he doubts he ever will. Fucking Atlanta.
“Point is, Brendon’s survived the shows so far, so. You’ll be alright. Also, we’re all in the same boat, cause I’ll be filming it.”
“Jon won’t know what hit him.”
“Jon’s already in on it. We agreed he doesn’t want in on the actual… you know. Ass-part, as he so eloquently put it, he’s happy to play the not-so-gay part of fucking Brendon’s mouth while we get on with the rest of the fun.”
“How exactly is there a not-so-gay part to any of it, seriously?”
Shane shrugs and Spencer mirrors the motion.
“Jon,” they both sigh at exactly the same moment before giggling their stupid asses off. Cause, in Saporta’s undying words: Jon’s pretty gay for a dude who prefers pussy.
“It’s… Christ. So unprofessional,” Spencer mumbles, cause fuck, is it ever. Their A&R is gonna be there, possibly dragging a wife and child along, and while Spencer doesn’t really think of Pete in any way that even involves the word professional, it’s still…
“So wrong.”
Shane nods. “You don’t have to, Spence.”
And that’s probably the most stupid thing Spencer has ever heard Shane Valdez say, seriously.
“Yeah right. Like I’d ever get over saying no to this.”
It becomes even more unbearable to watch Brendon after that conversation, knowing why he’s this hyper and not being able to do or say anything about it. It’s damn near impossible to keep a straight face every morning when they read their schedules over coffee and the date of the last show is being pushed up on the sheets of paper Zack hands out.
Ryan’s the kind of guy who is cruel enough to turn their make-out sessions all but public, he’s all over Spencer constantly and Spencer can feel him grinning into the kisses while Brendon’s watching from somewhere biting his lip. Okay, so maybe Spencer doesn’t exactly argue the point.
Shane keeps close to Brendon, keeps touching him, hugging him, occasionally looking at Ryan and Spencer with a small smile while he oh-so-accidentally grinds against Brendon’s crotch. Spencer’s pretty sure that they’re all going to hell.
When the day finally rolls around, Brendon’s not the only one who fidgets anymore. There’s so much nervous anticipation around that the sound check pretty much goes to shit, but they all know they’ll pull together for the show. They always have.
Zack throws around a lot of questioning glances and eventually, he calls Spencer on it. Spencer blushes and bites back a grin and he’s never seen Zack Hall looking at him like this.
“Dude, okay, I don’t really need to know. Oh fuck, my brain,” he mumbles and turns away and the reply of “No loss there” comes the fraction of a second to late for Spencer’s usual repartee, but whatever. Zack will deal, that’s kinda what Zack’s all about.
They get back to the hotel without anyone else interfering and everyone throws vague excuses about naps and phone-calls and showers at Brendon before joining forces in Spencer’s and Ryan’s room, leaving Shane and Brendon to it for the time being. They’re better at stealthy then Spencer ever dared to hope. Then again, it’s probably not that difficult cause Brendon’s attention is focused on the fact his balls are turning purple or whatever.
They share a couple of bong hits to pass the waiting time (actually, that’s not even true, cause Jon’s smoking up to rival Bob Marley in his hey-day and Spencer and Ryan are pretty much knocked out by the contact high alone) and Shane eventually sends a text to Spencer’s phone.
Spencer’s kinda the guy who should probably offer reassurance to the others, what with the top thing, but yeah, it’s not happening. Ryan’s chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully for a moment after they all heard the cell beeping, then he smiles.
“Come on, guys. Brendon.”
That’s all it takes. Ryan sounds so… well, ridiculously in love, basically, soft and caring and awed. He manages to make Brendon’s name sound like it sums up everything good in this world. In monotone. Spencer has no idea how that even works.
Shane opens the door very quietly, looking exactly like Ryan sounded and Spencer can’t help the quick surge of warmth and tenderness coursing through him, cause fuck, these guys. All of them.
Jon, just grinning at Shane very briefly and glancing over Shane’s shoulder, looking at Brendon like that. And Brendon… yeah. Brendon spread out and tied up and blindfolded and so very calm, so relaxed. It’s such a sharp contrast to the nervous energy that has even been more palpable then it usually is during the last few weeks, it’s fucking blinding.
He’s naked and hard and his lips are slightly parted, but there isn’t even a hint of urgency betraying he hasn’t been getting off pretty much forever, his breaths are slow and deliberate, his hands curled into loose fists on the white blankets, his head thrown back into the cushions…
Yeah, Spencer’s gone, okay? Spencer knows what being part of something awesome feels like, has known for a long time. Spencer’s got a family he loves and a band that keeps blowing his mind by being incredible, but all that doesn’t even compare right now, cause this? Different league. Different stratosphere, even.
Shane holds out a hand to Jon and guides him closer to the bed without a sound, Spencer and Ryan follow when he throws them a glance and fuck, Spencer wants some extra credit for the stealth, seriously.
Brendon’s breathing doesn’t change, he doesn’t know they’re here and apparently, Shane has no mind to change that just yet, cause he starts talking softly when they’re all close enough Brendon should hear them, pick up on their presence, somehow. Jon, all evil genius, had suggested they change into hotel bathrobes, pointing out that he’s not up to undressing in sync with three horny faggots, cause “you know, you might have practised shit like that, but there’s the part where I’m kinda straight”. Jon doesn’t look all that straight from where Spencer’s standing right now, what with him carefully swinging one leg over Brendon’s torso, straddling his chest.
Shane keeps his face close to Jon’s, still talking and Spencer’s pretty sure Brendon still has no idea it’s not actually his boyfriend climbing on top of him.
“You’ve been really good about this, Bren. You’ve been fucking amazing. I’m proud of you.”
Brendon’s expression changes into something you can’t really call a smile without selling it short, his whole face lights up at Shane’s words.
“So proud of you”, Shane repeats and nudges Jon forward a little, guiding his hips so his cock slides into Brendon’s mouth easily and nodding at Ryan and Spencer at exactly the same time.
They don’t need a written invitation to get their hands on Brendon’s body everywhere they can reach and Brendon doesn’t tense, doesn’t freeze, just stills for a moment before whimpering around Jon’s dick in his mouth and the look on Shane’s face at Brendon’s reaction isn’t one anyone can put into words, not even Ryan.
What Ryan can do and what he does, without a second’s hesitation, is to lean down and push two fingers into Brendon watching Brendon arch into it with another whimper and Spencer knows Brendon knows it’s Ryan doing that, cause Ryan’s hands are pretty unmistakeable.
Watching Ryan fucking Brendon is, quite simply, stunningly beautiful. He takes it slow and deep and he’s holding Spencer’s gaze, bottom lip caught between his teeth in wonder and concentration as he pushes in and yeah, he’s giving this his all and if the small noises Brendon makes as Jon is gently fucking his face are anything to go by, Brendon’s pretty impressed with the effort.
Ryan comes deep inside Brendon with a helpless, ragged moan that Spencer hasn’t ever heard before, closing his eyes and arching his back and trembling and… yeah. Fuck. There’s still no urgency to anything Brendon’s doing, he’s just lying there making those tiny noises, but when Spencer looks at his face, he can see the black silk of the blindfold’s wet, but Shane’s already leaning down, whispering in Brendon’s ear loud enough for all of them to hear it.
“It’s okay, Bren. It’s okay. Fuck, you’re amazing. So beautiful”, and Shane’s voice is breaking slightly at the end of the sentence, but he glances up at Spencer and nods, so Spencer moves to take Ryan’s place when Ryan pulls out and pushes in and…
Jesus. No seriously, different doesn’t begin to cover it. He almost comes right then, the sensations of warm-wet-pulse-skin damn close to too much, too intense, too raw (and yeah, screw the pun, cause it is, damn it).
He stills, adjusting to something that’s utterly impossible to adjust to and it feels like Brendon’s heartbeat’s pulsing through both of them, and yeah, fuck it. He moves and the whole slow and gentle thing isn’t happening, he pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in again and Brendon’s whole body tenses, his head jerking forward. Apparently, that’s Jon’s cue to follow suit with forgetting about the careful and everything turns into a frantic cacophony of too much, culminating in Spencer coming inside Brendon after a few hard thrusts and fuck, Spencer could come from the sensation of coming even though that makes no sense whatsoever to anyone.
Spencer almost doesn’t realize that it’s actually him doing all that groaning until he’s brought back to the planet by Jon gasping in a slightly more dignified manner as he shoots down Brendon’s throat, climbing off just to attach his lips where his cock’s just been and if Spencer still had a brain, he’d probably wonder how exactly Jon still clings to the mostly-straight idea even in his own mind.
Brain-functions aren’t exactly up there right now though, Spencer’s pretty pleased with himself for summoning the physical control to pull out of Brendon and pretty much collapse next to Ryan on the bed.
The last part makes Spencer wish he’d paid more attention in his literature classes, but maybe the words would need inventing, anyway. Maybe shit like this just hasn’t ever been witnessed by anyone before and there are blanks in the dictionary to be filled by someone with more imagination then Spencer Smith.
He’s not even thinking beautiful or hot or anything, he’s feeling it, feeling it in the way Shane removes the blindfold and looks into Brendon’s eyes, feeling it in the smile Shane gives Brendon and in the way Brendon gives it right back, small almost shy.
They don’t break eye-contact for even a second and while Shane fucking anyone always makes for quality entertainment, this isn’t even real. It’s so intimate it should feel wrong to watch, only it doesn’t. It just feels special and incredible to be allowed to share this, to be part of what they have.
There’s no talking and no begging and no commands, they just come at exactly the same time, still staring into each other, tears streaming down Brendon’s face and all Spencer can do is hold the fuck onto Ryan and do his best to pretend that he’s not a little choked up himself. Ryan just buries his head against Spencer’s shoulder and clings back, so maybe he isn’t the only one who’s got trouble computing this.
Shane manages to pull out after collapsing on top of Brendon, manages to gently push the plug into Brendon while Brendon’s catching up on a lifetime of oxygen deprivation if the ragged breaths are anything to go by.
“Just so you remember we’re always with you, Bren”, he whispers and yeah, fuck. What can anyone add to that, seriously?
Twenty minutes later, they get to the venue and they’ve got ten minutes to spare before they’ve actually gotta play a show and while everyone backstage has been busy loosing their rag cause no one could get a hold of the band, Zack needs one look at them to abandon all plans of manslaughter and another one to silence everyone else who might think about complaining, cause Zack’s awesome.
“Okay, I don’t wanna know, never ever do this to me again, blablabla,” he grumbles, bright smile carefully averted. “God, you suck. I’m surrounded by idiots, I’m changing my job and moving to Alaska so I can wear flannel shirts and escape the goddamn overwhelming GAY.”
Zack’s still beaming like a scary 300-pound proud mother-in-law when he ushers them toward the stairs, so Spencer isn’t really worried about finding a new security guy. In fact, Spencer isn’t worried period.
He knows you sometimes get that feeling right before a show, that hunch that whatever’s gonna go down is gonna be memorable. This is that feeling times a thousand. They shred. They’ve never, ever managed to pull the stops out like this, bring it together like this. It’s a blur of small glances exchanged between everyone and incredulous grins of “holy shit, I didn’t even know you could do that” going back and forth, cause none of them have ever played this well, ever.
It’s magic, pretty much. It’s the show to end all shows and silence all critics, it’s one continuous stream of everything working out and then some, of everyone following each other’s lead without even knowing how the fuck they manage it, it’s their thing, their friendship, translating into chords and beats and lyrics and they kill.
When they collapse on the ratty couches backstage afterwards, drenched in sweat and stunned into silence, it takes about thirty seconds before Pete comes to find them and he stands in the door staring for a long moment, apparently lost for words. This is Pete fucking Wentz, so that’s a big deal.
He looks at them, shakes his head and looks some more.
“No, seriously? Seriously? What the fuck was that?” he finally manages, very quietly, and Spencer concludes that he isn’t the only one who has trouble finding words to express what has just gone down, cause if Pete Wentz can’t turn it into a lyric, nobody can. He doesn’t give a fuck though, he just knows he wants to make it last.
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A/N: And that's it, guys. Seriously, I fucking hate to tell you this was the last one, cause I loved this Verse so very much, but.
Bottom line? I don't think I can top this part and I wanna end the series on a high note. Thanks to all of you for one hell of a ride.
If you're lusting for more or want any loose ends tied up, there's a Q&A right here, feel free to ask away. I could also potentially be persuaded to upload the songs I've taken the titles from if someone wants them, cause Elliott Smith is right up there with the awesome and I personally think he never quite got enough recognition for that. And yeah, just. Thanks, people.