White Tea and Ginger (This is How My Body Works, Baby) | Spencer Smith/Jon Walker | Part 2/3
part one
Spencer’s stuck watching a movie with Jon and Reagan for the hundredth millionth time, and this time, Ryan isn’t here to save him. In fact, shockingly enough, Ryan had actually decided to take Spencer’s advice and told Brendon. Spencer wouldn’t have even believed it if it wasn’t Brendon who had called him after a day of not hearing from either of them, voice high and positively radiating with happiness as he told him that Ryan and him are finally together, are ‘so totally in love’ and making up for lost time.
Three days later, Spencer hasn’t spoken much to either of them. Even school doesn’t count, because the only time they had ever really gotten any valuable talking time in was at lunch, and now they’ve decided to use that time, when their parents are both at work and their houses are empty, to get in some prime making out time. (Or fucking time, but ew, God, no. Spencer’s happy for them and all but he doesn’t want to think about that.)
It’s selfish of him, really, but there’s a tiny part of him that’s wishing that maybe he held off on the match-making for a few days - maybe a week, a month, at least until this whole Jon thing blows away. Because now he’s stuck feeling sorry for himself, completely and one hundred percent alone.
They’re watching The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, thanks to his sister, and Jon and him keep exchanging eye rolls over his sister’s head whenever anything even remotely corny happens (which is a lot, trust him). Spencer’s not Brendon, so he’d never admit to it out loud, but he actually sort of liked the first one; but this one, just. No.
Halfway through the movie, Reagan excuses herself to the washroom, something she does often whenever Jon’s around. Spencer thinks it’s dumb, how his sister is so concerned with her looks and the way she layers makeup on, because if one of them got the good genes between the two of them, it was definitely her.
She leaves the movie playing, showing that she’s obviously not too into it either, and Spencer’s internally grateful because at least this way he can pretend he’s interested in the movie instead of trying to strike up a conversation with Jon. When the truth is, Spencer can’t even begin to try and pay attention, not with him sitting right there, breathing, with no one in between. It’s still hard, being around Jon all the time, especially now that he’s been forced to get to know him and realize that not only is he the hottest thing to have ever graced the planet, but also a genuinely nice guy with a sharp sense of humor that could leave Spencer keeling over with laughter. At least before Spencer could pretend he was a horribly boring guy with bad body odor, and that made it not so bad.
Spencer feels something small bounce off the side of his head, and looks in the direction of where it came from, bewildered, to see a single kernel of popcorn sitting in between him and Jon. He looks up at him, forming his mouth in a large ‘O’. “Did you just throw popcorn at me?”
“Never!” Jon gasps, feigning innocence.
Spencer reaches into his own popcorn bag, grabbing onto two kernels before chucking them both at Jon in retaliation. Since he has terrible, terrible aim one brushes just past his shoulder and the other lands somewhere on the floor at least a few couple feet behind him. Spencer hangs his head in shame.
Jon laughs. “Nice one. Loser.”
Spencer narrows his eyes, pretending to be insulted, but it’s betrayed by the small smile that creeps across his lips. “That’s it,” he says, reaching back into his popcorn bag and this time pulling out a handful. He tosses them in Jon’s direction, figuring at least one has to hit him. He’s successful - well, partly, half of them bouncing off his chest and landing on his lap while the rest land on the floor behind and next to him.
“My God,” Jon smirks, amused, “if you are on any sports teams please drop out now. Please, for the sake of your poor team.”
Spencer sticks out his tongue, and throws another handful, this time high enough so it rains down on top of Jon. Some of the popcorn kernels get stuck in his hair, and Spencer giggles.
Jon stares back at him, mouth wide. A moment passes them, the both of them staring at one another while Spencer stifles back laughter. Finally, Jon sits up straighter, and says, threatening, “Okay, that’s it! You asked for it!”
By the time his sister returns, five minutes later, the entire living room surrounding them is covered in popcorn. She looks around, wide-eyed. “What the hell, you guys?” she demands.
Spencer and Jon both shoot her identical sheepish looks, and Spencer knows he’s caught red-handed, a handful of popcorn suspended in the air, ready for firing. “He started it!” he calls, thrusting an accusing finger towards Jon.
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
Reagan stares, seemingly un-amused. “You realize you’re going to have to clean that up, Spencer. Mom will shit if she comes home and sees this.”
A small, girlish giggle slips from between Spencer’s lips, with Jon quickly following. Reagan, looking even less amused, takes a seat back on the couch, tuning back into the movie.
Spencer looks up at Jon, cheeks pink from laughter, and Jon makes a face, eyes crossed and tongue out. Spencer laughs harder as he begins to pick the stray popcorn up from the floor, and Jon says, “I’ll help you. You know, since I’m just so nice like that and had absolutely nothing to do with creating this mess.”
“Shut up.” Spencer laughs, reaching over to give Jon a light smack across the arm. The instant he does it, he immediately wishes he hadn’t.
Jon looks down at his arm, then back up to Spencer, a small, innocent smile spreading across his lips. Spencer’s face burns, and he looks away, returning to the mess.
It takes longer than it should to tidy up the room, with Jon making silly faces and them throwing more popcorn at each other than actually picking it up. Halfway through their attempted cleanup, Reagan, who was stone-faced and watching the movie until then, turns to them and snaps, “Seriously, how old are you? Mom’s going to be home any minute and she’s going to flip.”
Spencer rolls his eyes and goes to ignore her, something he’s learned over the years during the times she’s decided to be a moody bitch, but Jon, unfortunately, has other ideas. “Aw, baby, lighten up,” he says, sliding on the couch beside her. He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her into him. “We’re just having some fun.”
Reagan pretends to shove him off, irritated, but it’s a short struggle, because in the end she winds up leaning against him. She tilts her head up, catching his mouth with hers, and Spencer instantly snaps his gaze away, cheeks burning red. Yeah, that? That was him falling off cloud nine and landing in a dirty back alley in New York with a loud splat.
Spencer goes back to picking up the popcorn, this time keeping himself focused on that and nothing else. Jon is your sister’s boyfriend, he reminds himself, sternly. Nothing else. There will never be a you and him. Get that through your head.
Jon gets up to join him in the remainder of the cleaning, and Spencer keeps his eyes trained on the popcorn. The few times he accidentally looks up to see Jon, he shoots him another funny face, but Spencer immediately lets his eyes drop, swallowing. He doesn’t want to be mean, but he needs to stop allowing his mind into tricking himself into thinking that maybe one day they might be something, because they won’t. He needs to stop being around Jon so much, looking at him, laughing with him. It only makes him want him that much more, and that can’t happen. He needs to get over him, once and for all.
By the time Spencer picks up his last popcorn kernel, he can feel Jon staring at him, most likely confused by his drastic change in mood, but Spencer doesn’t allow himself to meet his eye. “Anyways,” he says, taking the popcorn bag filled with ruined kernels, “I think I’m just going to go to my room.”
“But the movie’s not over yet,” Jon protests.
Spencer shrugs, keeping his gaze fixed on his feet. “That’s okay. I have a few things I need to do and I think I already have a good idea of how it’s going to end, so.”
Reagan doesn’t have much to say about it, more like nothing at all, and when Spencer goes to leave the room he looks over, just briefly, to see the two of them wrapped up together on the couch. Jon looks up at him with a slightly confused, slightly put-off expression.
Spencer pretends he doesn’t notice, and hurries up the stairs to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
*
“I’m sorry we’ve been neglecting you, Spencer,” Brendon says the next day, just seconds after him and Ryan come barging through his bedroom door without a warning. They’re just lucky he wasn’t jacking off or something equally as embarrassing. “Do you feel unloved? Because if you do, worry no more! We’ve come to give you plenty of Spencer-loving.”
Ryan bobs his head along behind him. “What he said.”
“Thanks, guys,” Spencer says dryly from where he lies on his bed, working on his essay on the Seven Year War, “but I think I’m doing okay. Thank you for taking the time from all your fucking to give me some attention though. That was real nice of you.”
Ryan shifts, looking mildly uncomfortable, while Brendon, of course, remains seemingly unfazed and flops down on the bed next to him, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Now, Spencer, don’t get snippy. Me and Ryan are only making up on three years lost, you can’t blame us. We still love you though, don’t worry.” Spencer opens his mouth to say something just as sarcastic, but Brendon cuts him off before he has the chance. “Which, by the way, oh my God, do I ever owe you, Spencer Smith. You are my hero. What if me and Shane got like, married or something?”
Spencer looks up to see Ryan’s eyes narrow, quite considerably, like he’s attempting to kill Shane with the powers of his mind. He wouldn’t doubt it if he actually was; Ryan can be a pretty freaky guy when he wants to be.
“I mean, like, as if, but you never know, right? It could’ve happened eventually.”
With this, Ryan picks his feet up from where he’s standing awkwardly in the middle of his room, and sits down so close to Brendon that he might as well be sitting in his lap. He doesn’t waste a second before he’s wrapping a possessive arm around Brendon’s waist, and pulling him flush against him. It’s a little endearing, Spencer thinks, but in a really fucking weird way, mind you.
Brendon’s smiling so hard, Spencer is vaguely worried that his face might split in half. He flicks his eyes up to meet Spencer’s - but not before giving Ryan his own set of googly eyes and a quick peck to the lips (yeah, even weirder. Ew) - and says, as if reading his mind, “Yeah, I know, it’s weird, isn’t it? I know it is. Well, like, it’s actually not in the way that I thought it would be. It’s weird because I never thought it’d actually happen, but it’s not at the same time because it feels like we should’ve been doing it all along, you know?” He lets out a long, blissful sigh, eyes glazing over as he stares up at the ceiling, “I don’t know if I’m making any sense, but I’m just so happy so I don’t care.” With that, Brendon tilts his head, reattaching his lips to Ryan’s. They don’t break apart right away like the last time, and Spencer has to look away, feeling slightly uncomfortable like he’s intruding on a private moment.
Finally, they pull away with a loud smack, and Spencer’s not going to lie, the sound makes him feel a little nauseous. “Sorry!” Brendon says quickly. “I can’t help it sometimes!”
Spencer brings his gaze back over to them, and Ryan bobs his head again, cheeks pink with a slightly aroused look on his face. Spencer kind of just wishes they’d leave and go have some more sex already. He feels like the ultimate cock-block. Someone should at least be having it, seeing as he’s never going to.
Finally, Brendon decides to close his mouth long enough for Spencer to speak. “It’s fine.” He forces a smile and says, “I’m really happy for you guys.” And he is, obviously; he only hates the envy-like feeling twisting inside his gut. He just wants to know when he’ll get his chance.
“Thanks!” Brendon beams, and it’s sweet, really, because Brendon always had this kind of glow to him, especially when Ryan was around, but now, it’s almost blinding.
Ryan meets his eyes, and smiles too, truly genuine, and it’s not something you see come from Ryan too often. Spencer has a feeling he’ll be seeing it a lot more now. “Yeah, thanks, Spin. Really.”
“No problem, guys,” he replies, and looks back down at his essay - or better yet, lack of one. It’s due tomorrow, all one thousand words, and Spencer’s only on his second paragraph. You’d think with all this extra time he has by himself now, he’d have time to finish all his homework, but apparently, not so much. “Hey, look, I’m happy you came by to like, keep me company but I’ve really got to finish this essay.”
Brendon tries to feign disappointment, but Spencer knows he’s secretly ecstatic. Ryan, on the other hand, doesn’t even try to disguise it. And maybe Spencer doesn’t know what it’s like to have somebody, to constantly want to be around them and no one but them, but he gets it. He’s not one of those people who hate on love only because he doesn’t have it.
“Well, okay…” Brendon starts, “but only if you’re sure.”
Spencer nods. “I am.”
“Alright, well,” he shrugs, “I guess we’ll see you around. Tomorrow, okay? We’ll all hang out.”
“Yeah, sure.” Spencer smiles.
Brendon reaches forward, Ryan’s arm slipping from around his waist as he gives him a giant hug, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. Spencer’s always secretly loved Brendon for his hugs. “I love you, Spencer Smith!”
Spencer lets out a weak laugh. “You too, Brendon Urie.”
Brendon pulls back, keeping his hands placed on both shoulders as he looks back at him, smiling wide. “Don’t worry, it’ll happen to you too, okay? Just be patient. I promise. You’re too amazing for it not to.” Brendon’s, also, always had a knack for reading people, whether they wanted him to or not. Sometimes, maybe, Spencer loves him for that too.
Spencer ducks his head, cheeks heating. “Okay, Bren,” he says, attempting a dry tone, but he knows it fails horribly. “Thanks.”
Ryan stands up, Brendon following, and Ryan reaches forward, giving Spencer a comforting pat on the shoulder. “See ya, bud.”
“Yeah, see ya,” Spencer echoes, watching as Ryan’s arm finds its way back around Brendon’s waist, secure.
After their gone, Spencer spends a few moments staring at the closed door from where they had just left, replaying Brendon’s words in his head. It’ll happen to you too. Just be patient.
Spencer’s never had a boyfriend, never even been close, and the only person he’s ever kissed was some girl - Bethany? Brittney? - at youth group when he was thirteen. He’s never really let it bother him either, until now. He sighs, shaking the thought away and turns back to his essay, taking his pen in between his fingers.
Patient, isn’t that all he’s ever been?
*
Spencer’s whole avoiding-Jon-Walker plan gets shot out the window two days later when his sister all but forces him to go with them for a Dunkin Donuts run (okay, so, it’ more like she offered, but it’s always been physically impossible for Spencer to turn down coffee and donuts).
Spencer’s naturally stuck in the backseat by himself, staring moodily out the window, forcing everything inside of him not to look over at their hands so snugly intertwined together on the console between them. Spencer’s really wondering why he agreed to this, he could’ve easily just made himself his own coffee at home, and not put himself through this torture.
They’re waiting in the ridiculously long drive-thru line, when Reagan reaches forward to turn the volume on the radio down, and shifts a little so she’s facing Spencer. “So, Spin, whatever happened to that guy from your work? I haven’t heard you talk about him in forever. What’s his nickname again? The-Sexy-Guy-Of-Your-Dreams?”
Spencer’s too busy choking on his own saliva to even begin to try and correct her. He doesn’t have to look up to know Jon’s boring holes through him from the rearview mirror. “Uh…”
“Jon, it’s so cute,” she says giddily. “There’s this guy that always comes into Spencer’s work, and Spencer has the biggest crush on him ever. And obviously this guy likes him back, because like, why else would he be coming into Bath & Body Works all the time? Guy’s do not care that much about their hygiene; in fact, I don’t even think most girls do.”
Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, ducking his head so Jon can’t see how ridiculously red his face is. Seriously, what did he ever do to God to make him hate him so much? He’s a good boy. He eats all his green vegetables, listens to his parents, he doesn’t steal, and he does his homework (well, mostly anyway, but what teenager in their right mind does?), so, why, why, does he keep getting punished like this?
Jon clears his throat. “Oh, is that right?”
“Mm-hmm,” she replies. “So, Spencer, what’s going on with him?”
“Nothing,” he manages to mutter.
“Does he still come in?”
Spencer hesitates, and then carefully, shakes his head. “No.” And it’s not a lie because he hasn’t, not since that that awful night when he first found out that he was his sister’s boyfriend.
“Really?” she asks, voice dropping in disappointment. If only she knew it was her own freaking boyfriend. If only. “God, that sucks. I had such high hopes for you two. Do you know why?”
Oh, only a vague idea.
He shakes his head again. “No.”
“Aw, Spin,” she gushes after a moment, reaching over to give a light pat to his knee. “It’s okay! You’ll find someone! Obviously he was a loser, anyway.”
Yeah, if freaking only.
“Mm-hmm…”
Fortunately, they pull up to the window, and the conversation is dropped. However, unfortunately, it’s Jon who passes the coffee and donut over to him, and Spencer makes the mistake of meeting his eye. Jon holds his gaze, and while Spencer can’t quite read exactly what he’s thinking, it’s clear that he knows. How could he not?
Spencer looks away, and swallows, taking his food from Jon’s hands. Their fingers brush, just slightly, and Spencer hates himself when he feels shocks run up his fingers and down his spine. “Thanks,” he mumbles, and pulls away.
Jon doesn’t reply.
They drive home is long and excruciating. Reagan chats along, and Jon doesn’t seem to have much to say back, while Spencer has even less. Eventually, she gives up and the last three minutes of the car ride are spent in silence. Spencer focuses on counting the shallow heartbeats in his chest, and God. God, he hates his life so much.
The car has barely come to a complete stop before Spencer’s jumping out of the car, coffee and paper bag clutched in his hands. “Thanks!” he says, off-handedly, as he goes flying into the house in front of them and up the stairs into the comfort of his room.
He sets his coffee and donut down on his desk, and takes a seat on the edge of his mattress, closing his eyes and taking a long, struggled breath of air. A few minutes later, just when Spencer figures he’s calmed down enough and goes to grab onto his coffee, there’s a soft knock at the door.
He gets up, preparing himself to turn down Reagan on what he can assume is only another invite to go ‘spend quality time with her and Jon’ when he opens the door to see that it’s not Reagan standing there, but Jon. Spencer nearly falls over. “Jon,” he says, grip tightening on his doorknob as anxiety creeps up his spine. Jon doesn’t say anything, he just looks over him, searching, and Spencer almost feels naked under his gaze. “Uh, look,” he begins, awkwardly, chewing on his bottom lip, “about - ””
It takes a moment, maybe ten, for Spencer to register why exactly he had just gotten cut off mid-sentence and what exactly it was pressing against his mouth, blocking his words. Spencer blinks, and yup, that’s Jon’s face, right there, not even centimeters away, and he guesses he can safely assume that the warm, soft things on his lips are. Well, are Jon’s lips.
Shit.
Spencer’s eyes slip shut, and he instinctively pushes back into it, lips moving against Jon’s. Jon’s hands slip to his waist, the thin fabric of his t-shirt snagging against the rough padding of his fingertips. And this. This can’t be happening.
Jon opens his mouth, just slightly, and Spencer, embarrassing enough, lets out the tiniest gasp when he feels Jon’s tongue poke against his lip. Apparently, if this is anything to go by, that kiss at youth group wasn’t really a kiss. Not at all.
Spencer opens his mouth, willing Jon’s tongue inside. Jon moves him backwards, and his back hits the wall just behind his door with a soft thump. Maybe it’s Jon’s fingertips making contact with Spencer’s skin that triggers his mind to start functioning again, because all of a sudden Reagan’s face is flashing across his mind and there’s nothing he can even try to do to make it go away.
Spencer pulls away, an ache instantly shooting through his chest from the loss of contact. Jon doesn’t seem to get it though, because his mouth goes searching back for Spencer’s, and he manages to turn his head just in time, causing Jon’s lips to catch the sensitive skin just under his ear. Spencer chokes back the pleased noise making its way up his esophagus. “Jon,” he whispers instead, voice raw and eyes trained in the opposite direction him, “we can’t.”
Jon doesn’t remove his hands from Spencer’s hips, his fingers still brushing against the bare skin where his t-shirt rode up. Jon doesn’t say anything at first, and Spencer listens to the uneven patterns of their slightly labored breaths. Finally, Jon clears his throat, and simply says, “I know,” but Spencer catches something deeper to it, something sadder.
Spencer brings his eyes back to Jon’s, searching over his expression, and then down to his lips. He’d like to think that they’re red and swollen, but he doubts the thirty seconds that they spent kissing were enough to cause that. Plus, it’s probably better that they aren’t, because Jon having to explain that to his sister when he inevitably goes back downstairs would not be the easiest thing ever.
Jon looks upset, maybe a little torn, Spencer knows that much, and something inside his chest flares up at the thought. “I - ”
“It was me,” Jon says at the same time, voice hoarse, cutting Spencer off from whatever he was about to attempt to say, “the guy your sister was talking about.”
Spencer pulls a layer of skin off his bottom lip, and feels his cheeks heat up with guilt. He knows that there’s no point in denying it; there wasn’t before, and there certainly isn’t now. “Yeah.”
“Fuck.” Jon finally lets go of Spencer’s hips, his shirt sliding back into place, and presses his index finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose.
“Look, it doesn’t have to be a big deal, okay?” Spencer starts, swallowing back his nerves. “It was just some stupid crush. I mean, I didn’t even know you then and - ”
Jon removes his hands from his face, and stares at Spencer, expression blank. “So, you’re saying you don’t - you don’t like me anymore, now that you do?”
Spencer inhales sharply, looking over Jon’s tightened features. He knows what answer Jon wants to hear, and he wants to give it to him, but. “You’re my sister’s boyfriend,” he states.
“I know that.” He shakes his head, nudging at the corner of Spencer’s door with his foot. “Fuck, do I ever. I just - shit. I li - ””
“Don’t say it,” Spencer says quickly, cutting him off before he has a chance to finish. Spencer wants to hear it so bad, he’s been fantasizing over it for months now, since the first time Jon walked into his work, but he can’t. He can’t hear him say it because it will only make everything that much worse. Jon’s his sister’s boyfriend, and nothing is going to change that. Even if they were to breakup right now, the fact is, is that they were still together once, and you just don’t do that to your own flesh and blood. “Please, just don’t, okay?”
“Spencer…”
“Reagan’s probably wondering what you’re doing.” He wraps his arms around his waist, and god, this hurts. It hurts so fucking much. For once, someone he’s crazy about actually feels the same way, and then this has to happen. Of course. “Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay? Please?”
“But I don’t want to.”
“Well, I do. Jon, please, just go, okay?” he asks, desperately, voice beginning to break. He just needs Jon to go so he can breakdown in peace. Jon stares back at him, frozen in please. “Jon,” he repeats more sternly, “go back to Reagan.”
“Fine,” Jon mutters, and turns to leave. He gives Spencer one last look before closing the door to his bedroom with a sharp click.
Spencer can feel his lips against his when he falls asleep that night.
*
It’s busy the next day at work, really busy, but Spencer doesn’t mind because it helps to take his mind off Jon, even if it’s just for a few minutes. He just finished giving an older lady his opinion on his favorite fragrances (White Tea and Ginger, no doubt, being one of them, and his heart literally ached at the thought) and he’s just beginning to reorganize the display of scented candles that these bratty, little kids just so nicely messed up when he hears a deep, far too familiar voice behind him go, “Excuse me, I was just wondering if I could get your opinion on something.”
Spencer turns around, and sure enough, there stands Jon, smiling sheepishly and overall, just looking ridiculously adorable and perfect. He ignores how his heart begins to speed up, just considerably. “Jon,” he hisses, “what are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“I’m working.”
“Yeah,” he replies, “I see that. What time are you off at?”
Spencer huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. So, maybe inside he’s secretly pleased. Maybe his heart is beating so wildly in his chest that he’s afraid the whole store can hear - including Jon. “Four,” he replies crossly.
“Okay, I’ll be here,” he says, already turning on his heel to leave.
“Jon,” Spencer sighs, distressed, “I told you - ” He stops short, Jon already halfway through the store.
The next two hours are hell, and he spends them finding every single possible reason to hate him. By the end of his shift he comes to the conclusion that Jon is a lying, selfish cheater who only gets by in life through his painfully good looks.
As Spencer makes his way out of the store, he reminds himself over and over and over again just how much he hates Jon now that he’s realized he’s evil ways. He doesn’t know what he had ever seen in him. How could he have allowed himself to be sucked in by his -
“Here, I got you a coffee.” Jon’s sitting on the bench just outside of Bath & Body Works, holding out a Starbucks cup.
Spencer scowls, but accepts it anyway (shut up, he’s not going to let a perfectly good cup of coffee go to waste just because Jon is stupid) ignoring the feeling of his heart melting inside his chest. He makes up for it by not saying thank you, and instead, merely giving him a short nod. “So, what - ”
“I broke up with Reagan.”
Spencer feels his stomach jump into his esophagus and then plunge back down into his ass. He stares at Jon, breathing halted as he waits for it to sink in. “You what?”
“I broke up with Reagan,” he repeats, eyes locked steadily with Spencer’s.
“Yeah, I heard you,” he says, closing his eyes, attempting to dull the throbbing in his head. When he opens them again, Jon is still staring at him with a hopeful expression on his face. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“Because, it’s not fair to her,” he answers, rubbing his palms against his thighs in a nervous manner. “Because,” he adds, voice lowered, “I like you, a lot.”
Spencer needs to sit down, so he does, leaving as much space between him and Jon as humanly possible. “Jon, you can’t - ” he swallows, anxiety rising in his chest, and oh god, he’s panicking a little bit here, “that doesn’t make it okay. For Christ sakes, you don’t get it. She’s my sister. And she’s not just some sister I hate either, we’re close, we always have been and if she finds out. Oh god, what if she finds out? She’ll hate me forever.”
“Spencer, calm down,” Jon says, soothingly, and Spencer nearly jumps when he feels a hand rest on his back, rubbing small circles along the material of his sweater. Spencer should probably pull away, he knows he should, but it feels too good, so he lets it happen. For now. “I don’t think she will, I think she wants you to be happy, and if she found out that I was that ‘sexy-guy-of-your-dreams,’ he chuckles at that, briefly, before continuing, “she’d understand. She might hate me, but I really doubt she could ever hate you. You have no idea how fondly she talks about you. She was always saying how she hopes you find someone soon because you deserve it.”
“Yeah, and by someone she didn’t mean you,” Spencer snaps. “God, you just don’t get it! You were the first boyfriend she actually really liked, and if she found out that you dumped her for - for me, that we fucking kissed while you were still together she’d absolutely hate me. She’d never forgive me, why would she? And she’d take back every last thing she said to you.” He takes a deep breath, tears prickling up behind his eyelids, and only now does he realize that Jon’s pressed against him, and the hand that was previously on his back is now fiddling with the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck.
“It’ll be okay,” Jon says softly, breath hot against his cheek. “You’ll see.”
Spencer still doesn’t quite believe it, but he slowly, carefully, feels the tension in his body begin to melt away as Jon begins massage the back of his neck. He lets out a tiny breath, and he slowly pulls his face up to look him in the eye as he says, “You promise?”
Jon smiles. “I promise.”
*
Jon offers Spencer a ride home, and while he knows he should be declining it, that he shouldn’t be doing anything with Jon until he talks to Reagan, he takes one look at Jon’s pleading face and knows he has no other choice but to accept.
The first half of the car ride is spent in silence, while Spencer recites in his head, line by line, exactly what it is he’s going to say to Reagan. He’ll tell her everything, from the beginning where Jon was The-Hot-Mystery-Man-Of-His-Dreams, to where they kissed in his bedroom. It’s not something he particularly wants to do, but he knows he has to, no matter what the outcome is. He’s just hoping, praying, that Reagan will be okay with it, that Jon was right, because as much as he wants it - God, does he ever - he doesn’t think he’ll be able to continue on with it if it’s only going to cause a rift between him and Reagan. He likes Jon, a lot, but Reagan is his sister, she’s blood.
Jon stops at the end of his street instead, a couple houses back from his, just in case, and instead of Spencer getting out the minute he puts his car in park, they sit there, staring out at the road in front of them. A few minutes pass before Jon’s the first to speak, “It’ll be okay,” he says, but a part of him sounds like he’s not only trying to convince Spencer but himself too.
Spencer looks up at him through caramel bangs, and shrugs. “Maybe.”
Jon sweeps his eyes over his, and his gaze is so strong and so heavy, that Spencer has to force himself to look away, heart pounding in his ribcage. He clears his throat, fingers flexing at the door handle. “I better go.”
“Hey,” Jon says softly, hand suddenly gripping at Spencer’s forearm.
Spencer stares down at it, then slowly, moves his eyes up until they’re meeting Jon’s again. Jon’s closer now, his face only a few inches from Spencer’s, and his breath hitches as Jon’s eyes flick down to his lips and back up again. He leans forward the rest of the way, pressing his lips gently to the corner of Spencer’s lips. He pulls back, just a little bit, eyes searching Spencer’s for further approval, and after a moment or so of no reaction he leans back in again, this time his lips sealing his full mouth.
Spencer kisses him back instinctively, and he figures a few kisses won’t hurt. Chances are his sister won’t be happy with what Spencer’s going to tell her anyway, probably won’t talk to him for a few weeks and Spencer will never be able to do this with Jon again. He might as well get the few kisses he can now.
Jon drops his hand from where it was gripping at his arm, and touches his hip softly. Spencer pushes further into him, parting his lips as Jon does, allowing him to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into the contours of his mouth. It’s better than before, not having to worry about someone coming up the stairs to catch them, but it still doesn’t stop the guilt from welling in his gut. This is Jon, his sisters (ex) boyfriend.
This is still so, so wrong.
Spencer pulls away, despite the fact that it almost physically hurts to do so, breathing already growing labored. Jon grips onto his hip, pulling him back into him, noses bumping together and lips pressing hungrily against his. Spencer laughs into his mouth. “I gotta go…” he murmurs, “you know, attempt to tell my sister about this.”
Jon huffs, but nods reluctantly. “Okay, good luck.” He catches his hand, squeezing tight as he says, “I’ll call or text you tonight.” Before Spencer has a chance to reply, Jon leans in to press another kiss to his lips. There’s no tongue this time, but he lingers long enough to leave Spencer swooning all over again.
“Okay, okay,” he says, opening the door and jumping out before they start furiously making out again. “Bye, Jon. I’ll see you later.” He lets the door slam shut and gives Jon a quick wave before heading off down the street towards his house, butterflies still roaming freely in his belly.
He forces himself not to turn back and look, knowing he’d only be tempted to go running back and continue to make-out (and maybe more) in the backseat of his car. It’s only when he’s five houses down can he hear Jon’s car take off down the street. Spencer laughs to himself, giddy.
Once he gets home he heads straight up to Reagan’s room, bliss quickly turning into anxiety with every step. Reagan’s door is closed, music pouring from underneath, and Spencer takes a deep breath before giving a careful knock. He waits for her faint voice to tell him to come in, and he pushes the door open, heart pounding in his ears.
She’s sitting on her bed, the giant teddy her fifth grade boyfriend gave her perched on her lap. She’s staring out at nothing, eyes red and swollen. Spencer’s stomach drops, and it strikes him only then that maybe he should’ve thought out the plan more. He could have thought, for even a second, that it would make sense to tell her that the guy who had just dumped her earlier on that day, was the guy he had just spent the day kissing?
He considers turning right back around and booking it to his room, pretending this never happened. He doesn’t, though. “Reag, hey,” he says softly, moving over to her bed to take a spot beside her. He immediately wraps his arm around her, pulling her tight against his chest, guilt shooting all the way down to his toes.
“Jon broke up with me.” She sniffs into his chest.
Spencer just about tells her that he knows, but he manages to stop himself just in time. “I’m so sorry,” he says instead, voice coming out a little more tense than intended.
“You know what the worst thing of all is?”
That your own little brother is the reason why. “What?”
“He said there’s someone else. A guy.” She hiccups, rubbing at her swollen eyes. “They kissed.”
Spencer lets out a tiny choked noise, one that he hopes Reagan didn’t pick up, and quickly swallows the growing lump in his throat down before saying, “Oh, Reag, that’s awful.”
Spencer watches a single tear roll down her cheek, and he keeps his mouth pressed firmly shut.
“He didn’t even say who,” she says.
“Maybe - ” Spencer takes a deep breath, “maybe it’s better if you don’t know, at least for right now.”
She shrugs, wiping her bear over her face. “Fuck. Of course the one I finally like has to be gay.” Spencer racks his brains for something to say, anything, but thankfully, she continues after a moment, “How could I not have known? I mean, I just don’t get it. I thought we were doing good.” She shakes her head. “God, I’m so pathetic, crying over some asshole.”
“No,” Spencer forces out, “you’re not.” He closes his eyes, and takes another deep breath. It’s a good thing he’s sitting down, because he feels a bit faint. How could he have been such a horrible person to do this to his own sister? Sure, maybe they’ve had their differences (okay, their fights that involve a lot of screaming and door slamming, followed by the silent treatment for days), and maybe Reagan has had her share of boyfriends and Spencer hasn’t even had one, but that doesn’t mean he can just go and do something like that to her. When she finds out she will never, ever, not in a million years forgive him.
Spencer hugs her tighter, and presses his face into her shoulder, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ into her sweater.
*
Spencer eventually leaves her room, after she tells him she just wants to be alone for a little bit, and Spencer spends the next two hours in his room, staring at the plain white wall in front of him, feeling sick to his stomach with guilt. Who was he kidding? Thinking that maybe Reagan would be okay with it. Of course, she won’t be. Jon was her boyfriend. Even if she didn’t really like him all that much, it still wouldn’t be right.
Spencer’s trying to convince himself to just go in there and tell her already, figuring the longer he wait’s the worse it’s going to be, when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He pulls it out to see Jon’s name flash across the screen, and he presses ignore before tossing it somewhere on his bed.
He has to do it. He has to tell her. She deserves to know, even if she ends up hating him for the rest of his life because of it. It was his fault, his actions, and it’s his duty to go and tell her.
He pulls himself off his bed, and slowly makes his way down the hall to her bedroom, feeling as if a thousand pounds are added to his back with every step. When he reaches her door, he stands there, looking over the picture of her and her friends all huddled together, Reagan’s Room scrawled in loopy pink writing underneath. Spencer takes a deep breath, and knocks. He wait’s a moment of no answer, not even, before pushing open the door to see Reagan in the same place as before, but now furiously scribbling away in her journal.
“Spencer,” she sighs, back to him, “please, I just want to be alone for now.”
Spencer closes his eyes, grips onto the doorknob, and counts to ten in his head, feeling the sudden urge to pass out. Finally, he takes a long, deep breath and squeaks out, “I kissed Jon.”
The pen in Reagan’s hand stills, and then drops against the notebook with a stilted taptaptap. She doesn’t move for a long time, and neither does Spencer. He grips tighter onto the doorknob, until his hand aches and knuckles turn white.
“What?”
“I - I’m so sorry, Reagan,” Spencer chokes out. “I don’t - I don’t what came over me. I wish I could - ”
“You’re the guy?” she asks, deadpanned, as slowly she turns around to look him straight in the eye.
Spencer presses his hand to his forehead, feeling tears prick up behind his eyelids. “Reag, please. I can explain, I - ” he stops, choking back a breath. “You remember that guy? The one that always came into my work? That was him. And I mean, I never told you because it was. It was weird, it just would’ve made things awkward. And it was really no big deal either because it’s not like I thought anything would ever happen, but then you brought him up yesterday and - ”
“And then you made out with him,” she finishes. She shakes her head, eyes dropping from his as she stares across the room, forehead furrowed in betrayal. “Jesus Christ, Spencer. How could you do that to me?”
“Reag,” he starts, voice breaking. He rubs at his eyes, forcing the tears back, and God, he’s so stupid. So, so fucking stupid. “I’m sorry, okay? Please, I know I deserve for you to hate me, but. Please, I’m your brother, and I love you and I never wanted to hurt you. And - ”
Reagan shakes her head, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip. “Just leave, Spencer,” she says, voice small. “Get out of my room. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“Reag - ”
“Get out,” she hisses, turning to glare at him sharply. “I mean it. Fuck. Off.”
Spencer nods, defeated, and swallows as he backs out of the room eyes on his sister. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles once more, before closing the door with a soft click.
Back in his room, Spencer takes his phone, ignores the five missed calls and shuts it off before tossing it across his room where it lands in a dirty pile of laundry. He pulls the pillow over his head, closes his eyes and cries.
*
part three