P!atD Ficlet: Other Things (Spencer/Jon)
So I think I officially have to start calling this a fandom.
Title: Other Things
Author: tigs
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Pairing: Spencer/Jon
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Don't know or own.
Summary: Jon hadn't really planned on leaving Chicago for Vegas for another two weeks-and hell, he probably shouldn't have, given that he was going to be spending the next several months stuck in a condo with Spencer, Brendon and Ryan. [~750 words.]
Jon followed Spencer down the hall towards his room, the third door on the right, already open, window-filtered light spilling out into the hallway, but once they were inside, Spencer closed it. He leaned back against it, running a hand over his hair, but he was smiling, saying: "Yeah, mom likes to-"
Talk, Jon thought.
"You'd think she'd known you since you were a kid," Spencer said instead, laughing a little, and Jon did, too, 'cause yeah. She'd asked about Jon's parents, about their jobs. About his visit home and if he'd gotten to spend enough time with his friends there, some of whom she actually knew by name. She'd told a story about running into Spencer's second grade teacher in the grocery store-Mrs. Terpin, she'd said to Jon, a saint of a woman who'd spent hours with Spencer, trying to help him learn his multiplication tables-and at that point, Spencer had said, "*Mom*," and she'd smiled indulgently and shooed them away.
"No," Jon said. "It's… nice."
Spencer shook his head slightly, rolling his eyes like he didn't believe Jon, but Jon just said, "It is. Makes me feel-"
At home, he didn't say, because that wasn't it, but.
But a little less like he'd been a true member of the band for only nine months that seemed like half a lifetime and more like, well, it had actually been half a lifetime.
Now Spencer smiled, genuine, real. Like he maybe understood what Jon was saying, and given that he was Spencer, he probably did. Especially since Jon hadn't really planned on leaving Chicago for Vegas for another two weeks-and hell, he probably shouldn't have, given that he was going to be spending the next several months stuck in a condo with Spencer, Brendon and Ryan. But Chicago was fucking cold, colder than he remembered, and most of his friends were doing classes most of the day, or doing tour prep, and somehow lazing around in bed and getting up at three in the afternoon just wasn't quite as much fun if you didn't have someone to bitch at about it. To say, damn it, just let me sleep, Brendon. God damn morning people.
Plus, you know. There were other things.
When he'd told Spencer his plans, though, what he was thinking, Spencer had said, "Hey, yeah, sounds good," and "So when're you getting here?" and he'd sounded happy enough that Jon was thinking of coming that Jon had gotten his ticket as soon as he'd gotten off the phone.
He'd looked happy, too, when he'd picked Jon up at the airport, standing in the baggage claim, hoodie pulled up over his head, wearing baggy jeans for once-maybe the greatest disguise of all. He'd hugged Jon tight, nose pressed to Jon's neck, and Jon had returned it, more squeeze than backslap. Because, yeah. Other things.
"Brendon and Ryan'll be over later," Spencer said. "Ryan's at his guitar lesson, and Brendon's mom guilted him into an afternoon of yard work, so."
"So," Jon said.
"So we have a few hours."
At that, Spencer stepped away from the door, towards Jon, and Jon felt his breath catch in his throat. Spencer was biting at his bottom lip, looking a little unsure, less sure than he had their last night on the bus, when it had just been the two of them sprawled out in the lounge, tired, loopy and exhausted but not wanting to go to bed, not wanting this to be over quite yet. It had been Spencer that night, too, scooting across the floor towards Jon, pressing his lips to Jon's for a long (too fast) moment, then smiling sleepily at him, before letting his head drop to Jon's shoulder, draping his arm across Jon's chest, the both of them falling asleep like that, lulled by the sounds of wheels travelling over road.
This was. Different, though, and Spencer wasn't smiling, and his fingers were clenching into fists, and he paused about a foot from Jon, just out of reach, and he was watching Jon, Jon could tell, and so it was Jon who smiled, who closed the gap, and his aim was maybe a little off, because he felt stubble against his lips, but then Spencer was leaning a bit, bringing one hand up to Jon's shoulder, the other up to his neck, and that was. Better. Lips parting, and Spencer tugging lightly on Jon's lower lip, and.
And Jon had missed Chicago while he'd been gone, but there were other things to miss, too, more, and when Spencer pulled back, he was smiling again, eyes bright and clear and yeah.
Yeah, Spencer understood.
Title: Other Things
Author: tigs
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Pairing: Spencer/Jon
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Don't know or own.
Summary: Jon hadn't really planned on leaving Chicago for Vegas for another two weeks-and hell, he probably shouldn't have, given that he was going to be spending the next several months stuck in a condo with Spencer, Brendon and Ryan. [~750 words.]
Jon followed Spencer down the hall towards his room, the third door on the right, already open, window-filtered light spilling out into the hallway, but once they were inside, Spencer closed it. He leaned back against it, running a hand over his hair, but he was smiling, saying: "Yeah, mom likes to-"
Talk, Jon thought.
"You'd think she'd known you since you were a kid," Spencer said instead, laughing a little, and Jon did, too, 'cause yeah. She'd asked about Jon's parents, about their jobs. About his visit home and if he'd gotten to spend enough time with his friends there, some of whom she actually knew by name. She'd told a story about running into Spencer's second grade teacher in the grocery store-Mrs. Terpin, she'd said to Jon, a saint of a woman who'd spent hours with Spencer, trying to help him learn his multiplication tables-and at that point, Spencer had said, "*Mom*," and she'd smiled indulgently and shooed them away.
"No," Jon said. "It's… nice."
Spencer shook his head slightly, rolling his eyes like he didn't believe Jon, but Jon just said, "It is. Makes me feel-"
At home, he didn't say, because that wasn't it, but.
But a little less like he'd been a true member of the band for only nine months that seemed like half a lifetime and more like, well, it had actually been half a lifetime.
Now Spencer smiled, genuine, real. Like he maybe understood what Jon was saying, and given that he was Spencer, he probably did. Especially since Jon hadn't really planned on leaving Chicago for Vegas for another two weeks-and hell, he probably shouldn't have, given that he was going to be spending the next several months stuck in a condo with Spencer, Brendon and Ryan. But Chicago was fucking cold, colder than he remembered, and most of his friends were doing classes most of the day, or doing tour prep, and somehow lazing around in bed and getting up at three in the afternoon just wasn't quite as much fun if you didn't have someone to bitch at about it. To say, damn it, just let me sleep, Brendon. God damn morning people.
Plus, you know. There were other things.
When he'd told Spencer his plans, though, what he was thinking, Spencer had said, "Hey, yeah, sounds good," and "So when're you getting here?" and he'd sounded happy enough that Jon was thinking of coming that Jon had gotten his ticket as soon as he'd gotten off the phone.
He'd looked happy, too, when he'd picked Jon up at the airport, standing in the baggage claim, hoodie pulled up over his head, wearing baggy jeans for once-maybe the greatest disguise of all. He'd hugged Jon tight, nose pressed to Jon's neck, and Jon had returned it, more squeeze than backslap. Because, yeah. Other things.
"Brendon and Ryan'll be over later," Spencer said. "Ryan's at his guitar lesson, and Brendon's mom guilted him into an afternoon of yard work, so."
"So," Jon said.
"So we have a few hours."
At that, Spencer stepped away from the door, towards Jon, and Jon felt his breath catch in his throat. Spencer was biting at his bottom lip, looking a little unsure, less sure than he had their last night on the bus, when it had just been the two of them sprawled out in the lounge, tired, loopy and exhausted but not wanting to go to bed, not wanting this to be over quite yet. It had been Spencer that night, too, scooting across the floor towards Jon, pressing his lips to Jon's for a long (too fast) moment, then smiling sleepily at him, before letting his head drop to Jon's shoulder, draping his arm across Jon's chest, the both of them falling asleep like that, lulled by the sounds of wheels travelling over road.
This was. Different, though, and Spencer wasn't smiling, and his fingers were clenching into fists, and he paused about a foot from Jon, just out of reach, and he was watching Jon, Jon could tell, and so it was Jon who smiled, who closed the gap, and his aim was maybe a little off, because he felt stubble against his lips, but then Spencer was leaning a bit, bringing one hand up to Jon's shoulder, the other up to his neck, and that was. Better. Lips parting, and Spencer tugging lightly on Jon's lower lip, and.
And Jon had missed Chicago while he'd been gone, but there were other things to miss, too, more, and when Spencer pulled back, he was smiling again, eyes bright and clear and yeah.
Yeah, Spencer understood.