Bandfic: Dreams From the Other Side [5/5] (Brendon/Spencer. R.)
They offer to come meet Dallon and Ian at the airport, but Dallon says he’ll rent a car and grab Ian when he lands, give them some new-pseudo-members of Panic! bonding time. Which leaves Spencer cleaning the house.
Again.
“Seriously,” Brendon says. “Is this a nervous tick I never knew you had? Because I thought I’d learned all of your nervous reactions years ago. I mean, you never tried to clean our dressing rooms, right? I didn’t just totally fucking blank that?”
“No,” Spencer says. Back in the beginning, before they’d truly learned how to deal with their nerves, he’d spent a lot of time in the bathroom throwing up. “No, I think I was too busy, you know, trying to keep my stomach inside me back then to worry about cleaning, you know?”
“Fuck,” Brendon says, grinning wide. “Those were the days. I-I was going to say that I miss those days, but actually, I really, really don’t miss those days.”
“Yeah, no,” Spencer says, because while things had been a lot simpler back then, and Spencer’s world had still been on what he’d thought was the correct path, he’s also mostly sure that he wouldn’t pass up this place that they’re in now for anything.
Brendon, of course, keeps pressing.
“So the cleaning’s more of a what? A ‘wasting time until people get here, while also hoping to impress them with our spotless abode’ thing? Because I’m pretty sure that Ian and Dallon would not be surprised to see me living in a pit of filth and pizza boxes. Just, you know, so you know.”
Spencer has no good retort to that, so instead he says, “Shut up.”
Brendon wiggles his eyebrows in a ‘make me’ fashion, which is a challenge that Spencer just can’t let pass, so he walks over to where Brendon’s standing in the front hallway and leans down to kiss him. Brendon rests his hands on Spencer’s hips, holding on, and they just stand there, really, kissing slowly, deeply.
Until, that is, Spencer’s startled away from Brendon by the sound of two car doors slamming. Until he belatedly realizes that he’d also heard a car pull up into Brendon’s driveway not that long ago, he’d just pretty much ignored it. As he’d already been occupied.
He watches as Brendon wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, as if that will wipe the signs of the kiss away, like there’s a chance in hell of that working. Besides, Spencer thinks, it’s best for Ian and Dallon to know what they’re getting into right away.
Brendon opens the door before Ian and Dallon make it very far into the front yard and heads out to help them with their bags, Spencer just a step behind. He grabs Ian’s bag, and he doesn’t think that he looks any more thoroughly kissed than Brendon does, but the kid takes one look at him and starts laughing.
“So apparently we should have driven around the block a few times on our way here?” Ian asks.
Spencer feels his cheeks heat just a little, which is probably yet another sign that he’s been off of touring too long, if even mild teasing is getting to him. He still knows how this goes, though, so he just flips Ian off, then looks over at Dallon to see his reaction.
Dallon’s just grinning, wiggling his eyebrows in a totally unsubtle way.
“Don’t fret, young Crawford,” Brendon says, totally unconcerned. “We’ll let you know if you ever need to go drive around the block a few times. Now shall we get you two settled?”
“That will work,” Dallon says. Then he looks over at Spencer again, gives him a thumbs up, and Spencer thinks that this tour is probably going to work out just fine.
Or, at least, as well as can be expected, because when they actually make it down to the practice room an hour later, it’s really fucking weird, okay? And not necessarily in a good way.
Because, see, when Spencer looks over to the right side of the stage, to the lead guitar spot? He’s supposed to see Ryan, tall and gangly, short hair. He’s not supposed to see Ian, short Ian, with his fro. And when he looks to Brendon’s other side, it’s supposed to be Jon that he sees, moving his flip flop-covered feet mellow-ly to the beat of whatever it is that they’re playing.
That is just the way it’s supposed to be.
He ends up spending most of his time during that practice looking at Brendon, because that’s safe; given what he already knows about Ian and Dallon, he expects that he’ll get ragged for it later, but for now (maybe they realize how hard this must be for him and Brendon, or maybe just him) they keep playing.
Spencer’s issues aside, though, for a first practice with four musicians who’ve never played together before, it works pretty well. Much better than Spencer’s expecting it to, anyway.
Maybe he and Brendon are good at choosing touring musicians. Or maybe Ian and Dallon are just that good. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.
Spencer thinks that that is probably the case.
Later still, he thinks that Ian and Dallon really do understand what’s been going through his (and Brendon’s?) heads, because when they’re done for the day, Spencer’s muscles pleasantly sore from the workout with his kit, they don’t protest when Brendon says, “Do you think you guys can take care of yourselves for the evening?”
It’s probably more than a little rude sending their two newest (temporary) members out to fend for themselves in the wilds of Santa Monica on their first night in town, but Spencer doesn’t actually care. Not when he’s spent the last four hours trying not to see Ryan and Jon out of the corners of his eyes. Not when Brendon’s looking at him like he’s been feeling the exact same things Spencer has been. Spencer’s really glad it wasn’t just him.
So Ian and Dallon head out and then it’s just Brendon and Spencer in the suddenly too quiet house.
“You okay?” Brendon asks, finally, and Spencer feels like he should be the one asking Brendon that. Really. Brendon’s looking at him, though, eyes wide, not-quite-frowning, and so Spencer tries to nod, tries to say ‘yes, yes, everything’s fine’ believably, if not enthusiastically, but.
But.
He feels wrong for being glad that Dallon and Ian apparently fit in as well as they do. He feels wrong that he’s still looking for Ryan and Jon. He feels wrong that he wants to not be looking for Ryan and Jon. He-
“I will be,” Spencer says. “You?”
Brendon nods. “The same, about. It just-“
He trails off, but Spencer can’t imagine that their thoughts are too different on this score, so he says, “Yeah.”
He thinks that they need to go out, get food. They have to start packing, too. He has a list of things he needs to do before he leaves on tour, developed through the years, and as of today, four days before their show in Milwaukee, he’s crossed far too few of the items out.
“Come here,” Brendon says, except Spencer doesn’t have to, because Brendon’s coming to him, wrapping his arms tightly around Spencer’s body. He presses his nose to Spencer’s shoulder, breathing in and out three, four times, until Spencer starts relaxing against him, until he can feel his muscles start to loosen.
“You should go turn on the TV,” Brendon says when he finally pulls away, and Spencer wants to protest, wants to say no, to list the things they both know that they need to be starting in on, but when he opens his mouth, he says, “Yeah, okay.”
He lets himself sink into the couch, pulls one of the throw pillows into his lap, then turns on the TV. He goes to Comedy Central, because Reno 911 reruns will never get old, and he’s actually feeling rather relaxed by the time Brendon returns, Bogart trailing at his heels.
“I ordered pizza,” Brendon says. “I hope that’s okay.”
Spencer nods. It is.
He almost expects Brendon to curl up at his side, but in reality, Brendon sits down at the far end and then pats his lap. “Come here,” he says again and Spencer does. Brendon starts running his fingers through Spencer’s hair, like he hadn’t been doing that exact same thing up in their bed 18 hours ago, and Spencer feels even more tension drain out of him; he pretty much just wants to melt into the sofa. A little while later, he feels a warm weight at his ankles and when he lifts his head-just slightly, because he’s too relaxed to do much else-he sees that Bogart has settled between his feet and the back of the couch, his head on Spencer’s leg. He’s holding on to Spencer’s toes with one paw.
“We’ll get used to it,” Brendon says during the next commercial break, and Spencer knows this, he does.
“I don’t know if I want to,” he says.
“I know,” Brendon says.
*
Zack arrives for the full crew rehearsal two days before they leave and Spencer’s grateful for his presence, really, because Zack knows all of the shit that they need to get done before they hit the road.
He’s less grateful for all of the knowing looks and smirks and eye rolls that Zack keeps sending his and Brendon’s way, or the way that Zack keeps sighing in a put upon manner, promising that he’ll give them a ten minute warning before entering any room.
He starts doing this while they’re still in Brendon’s house, actually. Even when he’d only left the room five minutes before. Even when Ian or Dallon are still in the room with them.
“Ten minute warning!” he says. “I will be entering the room in ten minutes. Please be fully clothed.” Of course, when he’d only left the room five minutes before, or he knows that Spencer and Brendon are not alone, he comes in even as he’s saying the words.
“Fuck you,” Brendon says.
Still, with Zack there, they get more tour-related preparation done than they have in the last several weeks, because Zack arranges trips to Walgreens and Wal-mart and Target. He goes to the supermarket and buys a suitcase full of snack food. He creates lists for all of them that say things like: 18 more pairs of underwear than you think you’re going to need. Deodorant. Tooth paste. I am not packing extra toothbrushes, so if you don’t have your own, you’re using your finger. Earplugs, so you don’t have to listen to Spencer and Brendon.
When Dallon sees this, he laughs and pulls a pack of earplugs out of his bag. “Like this?” he asks, and Zack says, “I like you, kid.”
In the past, Spencer’s really only had to worry about getting himself ready for tour. He’s not used to, you know, packing and closing up a house with someone. He’s not used to Brendon asking him if he wants to come along while he takes Bogart over to Shane’s, since Shane and Regan will be watching him for the next month.
He says yes, of course, and not just because Bogart knows that things are afoot, that the suitcases have come out, and thus has been following both Brendon and Spencer around the house, trying to wag his tail and pretty much failing. Bogart looking so pathetic, though, might be why Spencer takes ten minutes he really doesn’t have and looks under every couch, his old futon, and behind the entertainment center in the basement, trying to find Bogart’s favorite bone.
And his favorite ball.
And the remains of the rawhide Spencer had bought him the week before.
And the tie-dyed tug toy.
Just the essentials, of course.
That’s the excuse he gives to himself anyway.
It certainly doesn’t have anything to do with the warm feeling that he gets when Ian rolls his eyes at him and says, “You two and that dog…”
“Like you’re any better about Skywalker,” Spencer says, because has he or has he not looked at approximately 50 pictures of Skywalker in the last two and a half days, one (at least) for each day that Skywalker’s been Ian’s? He most certainly has.
Ian nods. “Point,” he says.
Spencer and Brendon abandon Ian and Dallon to Zack’s nearly epic pre-tour lecture while they bundle Bogart and his bag of toys and his dog bed and his water bowls and his bag of treats and the new can of tennis balls that Brendon had picked up at Walgreens all into the car.
Bogart sits in Brendon’s lap and Spencer maybe, possibly, reaches over to scratch at his ears at a few red lights. Maybe. And then, too quickly, they’re at Shane’s, and Regan’s opening up the door to meet them. She says, “Bogie!” and Bogart jumps out of the car to meet her, Brendon following behind, leaving Spencer to carry all of Bogart’s worldly possessions into the house.
He’s not exactly expecting them to leave immediately; they rarely have short visits with Shane and Regan. He is surprised, though, when, after Brendon does his goodbyes-lots of head scratches, ear scratches, belly rubs-he finds himself kneeling down, too. Saying, “Be a good boy now, okay?” Bogart bumps his head against Spencer’s wrist and Spencer rubs his fingers through Bogart’s coat, and then, well. They leave.
“We’ll be back in a month,” Brendon says, like Spencer shouldn’t be telling him the exact same thing. Because Bogart is Brendon’s dog, after all. “And you get to be the one to pick him up, you know.” Because Brendon’s going to visit his parents after the tour is over.
“I know,” Spencer says.
“It’s going to go really fast,” Brendon adds.
“I know,” Spencer says.
Brendon would probably try to say more soothing things, but then his phone rings. He picks up with a “’lo?”
Even through the space between them in the car, Spencer can hear Zack:
“Where the fuck are you two? Just because you’ve heard my speech 500 times already doesn’t mean you don’t need to hear it 501. Or do I need to remind you of what happened last year in Des Moines? Do I?”
Brendon actually looks a little horrified. He says, “We’re on our way.”
*
About ten minutes after they leave LAX, before they’ve even hit cruising altitude, Spencer decides that nine months is too long to have stayed away from touring. Sure, they’d played shows here and there (okay, Africa, which is still just about the coolest thing ever), but there’s nothing like being on the road, miles being eaten up by headlights and wheels.
And yes, Spencer still feels just a little bit like he did that first practice, when he peers through the space between his and Brendon’s seats and sees Ian and Dallon behind them, rather than Ryan and Jon. It’s a little easier, maybe, Spencer thinks. Or maybe he’s just nearly used to Ian and Dallon being there. Because they had three days of practice, and the four of them? They’re fucking ready for this.
It doesn’t hurt Spencer’s state of mind, of course, that Brendon spends most of the flight trying to work the LA Times crossword puzzle, asking Spencer’s opinion every other clue or so. Because when he does that? He leans close enough that he might as well be telling Spencer a secret. Which, you know, can be pretty distracting.
By the time they land, Spencer’s ready to get this whole show on the road, and he’s the first one into the chauffeured car that’s going to take them to the venue. The four of them (and Zack) crowd together in the back seat, Ian looking a little wide-eyed. “This is so much better than that fucking van,” he says.
“Dude, yes,” Brendon agrees. “The day we got our first bus? Happiest day of my whole fucking life.”
Spencer thinks about raising an eyebrow, because surely that statement deserves some comment, right? On the other hand, no longer having to share a van with at least three other guys and boxes of merch and dirty laundry and fast food wrappers and needing to sell CDs for gas money?
“It was pretty fucking awesome,” Spencer says.
Their bus is parked in a lot full of identical busses, which is parked next to a half-lot of big rigs, which apparently hold all of the stage equipment needed for the tour. The Nothing Rhymes With Circus tour? That had been pretty elaborate. But it’s nothing (fucking nothing) compared to this. Especially compared to their recent tours, since on Honda Civic, their big extravagance had been a few oriental rugs, picked up at a store next to the Warfield in San Francisco.
“Home!” Brendon says, as soon as they step onto their bus, pretty much throwing his arms up in the air. “Fucking finally!”
Spencer watches as he tosses his stuff onto his preferred bunk, then makes room for Spencer to do the same in his preferred bunk, and after that, as Dallon and Ian are claiming their own spots, Spencer looks around. It’s becoming more and more apparent to him with every passing moment that he had really, really fucking missed touring. And given the look on Brendon’s face, the way he meets Spencer’s gaze and doesn’t look away, the way his smile is pretty much splitting his whole entire face, Spencer thinks that Brendon’s feeling the exact same way.
Spencer’s just thinking about suggesting that they take leave of their bus, head out into the wild tour yonder, when he hears a knock on the door. Zack answers, of course, because that’s what he’s there for, but when he says, “What’s the fucking password?” Spencer knows it’s a friend.
“I’m your fucking boss?” Pete says, and Spencer watches as Zack nods.
“Good enough,” Zack says. Then, “Kids? You have company.”
Pete bounces up the steps into their domain, and immediately pulls both Spencer and Brendon into hugs. “It’s about time you fuckers got here. Our lives have been a sadder, grayer place without you two dudes. Plus, you brought new dudes with you!”
Ian’s spent enough time with Pete in the past to know how to stand up to the full on Wentz assault, so it’s Dallon that Spencer keeps an eye on. Dallon is pretty much awesome, though, and Spencer’s learned very quickly that Dallon can give as good as he gets, if not moving just a step beyond where others are willing to go.
Pete shifts from older brother to boss for about point-five seconds as he greets Dallon, welcomes him to the tour, but then it’s back to business as usual, as Pete fills them in on what they missed the last few days: the war that’s going on between Chester French and Blink’s techs, how the guys in AAR have been intimating that they did something before they left, pulled some nasty ass prank, that no one’s managed to discover yet. How Patrick’s actually started willingly talking on stage, which it only took Pete six years to train him how to do.
Pete would probably stay longer, keep talking, except one of the Blink crew knocks on their door and says that it’s time for Panic! to sound check, and suddenly this takes a turn from summer camp-style catching up to being really completely fucking real, holy fuck.
Spencer is trying really, really hard to keep his inner fanboy in check here (because it’s not like he hasn’t hung out with Mark now, right? It’s not like Mark isn’t going to be producing one of their fucking songs), but he allows himself one more moment of indulgence as he and Brendon walk over to the stage, Ian and Dallon going on ahead.
“I can’t believe we’re actually fucking doing this,” Spencer says, then leans into the touch when Brendon bumps their shoulders together.
“We totally fucking are,” Brendon says.
Spencer’s not used to being an opener anymore, even if opening for Blink means that they’ll be consistently playing in front of larger crowds than they have in the past. So, they sound check, and it goes just roughly enough that Spencer thinks it’s going to translate into a really fucking awesome show, and then they watch Fall Out Boy sound check, then part of the Blink sound check-
“It’s almost like our own private concert,” Brendon says, as Ian and Dallon nod along.
--and everything is going well, it is, and once they get to the dressing room to start getting ready for their set, do their warm-ups, Ian and Dallon only look mildly freaked and Spencer’s starting to feel butterflies in his stomach, yes, but they aren’t overwhelming, and-
And that’s when he notices that Brendon’s looking just a little bit gray around the edges. He’s trying to hide it, of course, bellowing out his usual warm-up play list, everything from Justin Timberlake to Frank Sinatra, but.
But Spencer’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have fallen for Brendon’s brave little toaster face even when they were just starting out; there’s not a chance in hell of him being fooled now.
And really, it’s not that he doesn’t trust Brendon to pull it together before they go on stage, because Brendon always does, always, but when Brendon takes a break to grab a drink of water, he takes a moment to encourage Brendon over to the corner of the room. He sits down, knows that Brendon won’t, not with as much pre-show energy as he’s channeling now, and says, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Brendon says, too quickly, his voice not quite squeaking. “Fine, fine. I’ll be fine. I mean- It hasn’t been that long since I’ve done a show, right?” He laughs nervously.
“Right,” Spencer says. This show is a whole different beast, though, and they all know it. Now is not the time for further discussion, though. So, he reaches out and grabs Brendon’s hand, squeezing it, and he really doesn’t care if Ian or Dallon point and laugh, or make cooing-gagging noises or kissy sounds.
Brendon’s hand is cool and damp in Spencer’s hand and Spencer takes a moment to wipe his thumb over Brendon’s palm, then presses down, almost massaging, trying to will some of the tension he can feel there away.
He doesn’t hear Ian come up behind him, but then the kid’s saying, “B, the last crowd I played to? Was five hundred fucking people. I think if I’m not shitting my pants, you don’t have any room to talk,” and then Dallon’s saying, “Besides, they all already like you guys. I’m the one who they’re going to be looking at saying, ‘who’s that freak without the flip flops? We signed up for a tour with a flip flop wearing bassist, what the fuck?’- you know?’” and then Ian’s continuing, “Come on, you guys, you know we’re going to fucking rock this.”
And that is pretty much the moment that Spencer realizes that he might not have actually been in the market for a new band, and that this one is really only temporary? But no matter the past and no matter the future, for the next three weeks, the four of them are a band.
“We are,” Spencer says. “We are going to fucking rock this.”
And, suddenly, with those words, he feels the excitement truly start flowing through him in a way it hasn’t yet, because they are on tour, the biggest tour of their lives, everything he used to dream about when he was in fucking middle school, and he’s here, with this band, sharing it with Brendon, and-
This is it.
“Rock and roll,” Brendon says, and Dallon grins bright, too. “Rock and fucking roll.”
*
And they do fucking rock it.
The crowd is not there for them, obviously, but they don’t get booed, and they don’t get bottles thrown at them, and by the end of it, he sees a lot of people dancing. Dancing is good. Dancing fucking rocks.
Especially when the crowd’s reaction is positive enough that it keeps making Brendon look over his shoulder at Spencer, grinning, looking more alive than he has in fucking weeks.
“Thank you, thank you,” Brendon says as they hurry off the stage, and Spencer’s totally planning on waiting until they get back to the dressing room before, well, he lets Brendon know just how much he enjoyed the show, but as soon as they make it into the venue wings, Brendon jumps him, literally, arms around Spencer’s neck, legs wrapped awkwardly around Spencer’s thighs, already sliding back down towards the ground. It’s a deep kiss, wet, half excess energy, half celebration, because they-
They fucking did it.
“Dudes,” Zack says from somewhere in the distance, “I think you’re forever scarring my oh-so-virgin eyes.” Which, ha. Spencer’s also pretty sure that he can pick out the sounds of Ian and Dallon making rude noises in their direction.
“Hey, love birds,” Dallon says finally. “Some of us would like to get a shower before we have to get back on our bus. Think we could maybe move this along?”
“Fuck off,” Brendon says, pulling away from Spencer, and Spencer just grins.
*
Spencer’s a little bit amazed at how quickly he settles back into the tour routine, falling asleep in one city, waking up in another state entirely. For instance, they’re still in Wisconsin when he falls asleep that night, and when he wakes up the next day, they’re parked outside of a fucking mini golf place, and Zack is saying, “This? This is the true rock star lifestyle. Hookers and blow is so five years ago.”
Spencer really sort of loves his life.
Then in Boston, Patrick knocks on the door to their dressing room about five minutes before they’re supposed to go on stage and says, “So, Brendon, um, I heard you actually know your Journey songs?”
Brendon practically floats through their performance that night, and he makes Spencer hang out side stage with him until it’s time for the Journey cover that’s fast becoming a regular part of the show. If Spencer thought Brendon was excited by the prospect of performing it once, though, it’s nothing compared to the absolute glee he’s radiating when he leaves the stage three minutes later.
He tries to make Spencer give him a piggy back ride, which works for all of about five steps, Brendon pressed warm to Spencer’s back, but Brendon’s a heavy fucker, so Spencer is reluctantly forced to let go.
And Spencer knows how tours go, see. How for the first few days, it feels like the best thing in the whole entire world, but then how after several days of living on top of everyone else, how he’s ready for some time to himself. In the past, though, he’s always been touring with Brendon as a friend and band mate rather than Brendon as, well, Spencer’s. As someone whom he’s used to having to himself for several hours every day.
So he’s not really expecting it when, a whole three days into tour, as they’re flying back to Vegas, he’s already feeling a little bit of that clawing need to get away, just a little bit. To not have to be around other people. He thinks what he needs is quiet time, just him and a magazine, so he finds an empty room at the venue, promises Zack he won’t open the door for strangers, and then just… is.
He’s really not expecting it when someone actually knocks on the door half an hour later, and Spencer wants to tell them to fuck off, that he doesn’t have to be anywhere for an hour and a half yet, but then Brendon’s coming in and Spencer feels something inside of him relax.
“I made Zack take me to Port o’ Subs,” Brendon says. “I told Ian and Dallon that we were going to have a date hour.”
Spencer snorts a laugh, because seriously, a date hour? Really?
But given that he’s laughing now when he wasn’t ten minutes ago, and he’s already feeling that clawing inside of him lessen, well. He thinks Brendon might be on to something. So, he unwraps his sandwich, and sits on the floor across from Brendon, watching him eat, listening to him tell about his phone call with Shane and how he’d totally talked to both Bogart and Dylan over the phone and how Bogart had, like, licked it or something? Whatever it was he’d done, Shane hadn’t been pleased. And Brendon might now owe him a new phone.
It doesn’t feel like that much longer before Zack knocks on the door and says, “Ten minutes, dudes,” which makes Spencer roll his eyes, but apparently inspires Brendon, because he gives Spencer a wicked grin and says, “Oh, Spencer! Yes! Spencer Smith! Right there! Yes!”
Spencer throws a balled up napkin at Brendon just about the time that Zack pounds on the door and says, “Fuck you, Urie. Just for that, you two need to be back in your dressing room in five.”
Brendon’s high-pitched laughter can probably be heard halfway down the hall.
*
So, Spencer settles into the routines of the tour, both new and old.
If they’re on the bus, he’ll make an effort to get up when Brendon does, so that they can drink their coffee together in the morning, so Spencer can totally fail at helping Brendon figure out the online USA Today crossword clues.
Every other day or so, they steal away from everyone else for an hour or two, get lunch from catering, just sit back and talk, maybe make out behind one of the million and five Blink trucks.
Brendon goes on with Fall Out Boy every night; Spencer spends every night watching from side stage.
He discovers the true bliss of hotel nights, in a way he hasn’t appreciated them in a long time, and makes a habit of not leaving his room for anything.
He watches as Joe and Ian hit it off really fucking well, and it’s not like Spencer hadn’t been expecting to spend a fuck-load of time with the Fall Out Boy guys, but now there are evening jam sessions, where Joe and Ian will play, Brendon will sing, Dallon will harmonize. Or Joe will bring Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe over, and suddenly none of them are going to bed until four.
Pete comes over a lot, too, and Spencer gets used to waking up in the morning to find him conked out on their couch. Or still up. Most of the time he just wants to talk about Bronx and Ashlee or this new band that he heard a demo from the other day, and would Spencer give it a listen?
And then, at the beginning of week number two, after their show in Hershey (a.k.a., the fucking wettest show ever, seriously), Brendon comes and finds Spencer in the back lounge of the bus and says, “Um. So. I was skyping with Shane? Do you want to come say hi?”
Brendon’s acting shifty, which means Spencer approaches Brendon’s laptop a little more hesitantly than he usually would, but Shane is actually on the screen, so Spencer doesn’t quite get it. Until he sees that Shane is actually holding Bogart in his arms, what the fuck, and Spencer loves Bogart, seriously, but-
“You were skyping? With your dog?”
“He missed his daddy,” Regan says in the background and then her head is appearing on the screen, too. “He missed both his daddies, isn’t that right, Bogie? Can you tell Spencer how much you missed him?”
Bogart barks, wiggling in Shane’s arms. Shane, Spencer thinks, doesn’t looked nearly embarrassed enough about doing this. Because Spencer would be totally embarrassed, except, um, he’s also saying, “Hey, Bogart. You being a good boy?”
“The best,” Regan says. “Aren’t you, Bogie? Aren’t you such a good boy?”
“Of course he is,” Brendon says. “He has me for a role model.” Then, as Spencer, Shane, and Regan all crack the fuck up, he adds, “Hey now.”
So, um. That becomes a part of the routine too. Not, you know, that Spencer intentionally seeks out Brendon when he’s skyping with Shane, but if he happens to be in that part of the bus (he’s always in that part of the bus) when the conversation’s going on, he’ll say hi.
And maybe, when Bogart actually barks as if in answer to Spencer, Spencer might say a little more. Maybe.
And when they have afternoons off, they continue to indulge in the mini golf and bowling. And apparently they sound like they’re having enough fun that everyone else decides they want to come too. So when they leave Hershey and drive past a driving range? With 15 balls for 5 dollars? What feels like half the tour gets out of their busses and joins them.
“We are total trendsetters,” Dallon says.
“We are,” Brendon agrees, as he hits yet another ball straight into the lake.
*
The shows are getting better, too, as the four of them grow more comfortable on stage together. Dallon actually does some dancing during the songs now, and Brendon’s getting a little more fluid with his stage banter. And best of all, the crowds really seem to be digging them.
Not in the way they dig Fall Out Boy and Blink, of course, but their pits are getting a little more rowdy, the crowds are starting to surf, girls continue to flash Brendon, which Brendon studiously does not comment on. Instead he talks about liking having sex. With dudes. Or ladies. Or dudes.
Spencer just grins behind his drum kit.
That night, when they’re in the lounge, Brendon’s head on Spencer’s leg, Spencer asks, “You felt the need to announce to the whole world that you like sex with dudes?”
“It’s the truth!” Brendon says, “and we should always tell the truth, right?”
Spencer just shakes his head and goes back to watching the movie.
And then they hit Chicago.
First of all, it’s a fucking huge show, okay? Biggest on tour by far. And, like, it’s a Blink-182 show, right, but it’s almost just as much a Fall Out Boy show, since it’s their hometown and all. Spencer’s used to it being their pseudo-hometown, too, although he supposes it’s really, really not anymore.
He started looking at his phone in Pittsburgh, wondering if he should call Jon, except he doesn’t actually know if Jon is making one of his frequent trips back to see Cassie, the cats, and Marley. He could be in Vegas, because he and Ryan have certainly been working hard, if their tweets are anything to go by. Or he could be in Chicago.
Brendon gets a little more manic, too, and Spencer is grateful when Zack tracks down the Chester French guys to borrow their bikes, then drags Brendon out to burn some energy. They sound check, then head back to their dressing rooms, and-
And then, five minutes before they’re supposed to leave for the stage, Zack opens the door and ushers in Jon Walker.
Spencer and Brendon both freeze and then Brendon’s face fucking lights up, holy fuck, and given the way his cheeks are feeling a little stretched, Spencer’s pretty sure that his look is mirroring Brendon’s.
“So, I heard there was a little show going on tonight?” Jon asks, then laughs. “That’s a big fucking crowd out there tonight. I hope you all are prepared.”
“Of course we are,” Brendon says. “We’re professionals, don’t you know?” He’s walking over to Jon as he talks, then wraps Jon in a hug, and Spencer doesn’t really realize that he’s moving, but when Brendon finally lets go, it’s his turn. When he pulls away, he says, “You remember Dallon, right?”
Jon nods and his smile isn’t quite strained-not as strained as Spencer’s sure his own will be when he inevitably meets Ryan and Jon’s new drummer-but he is polite. He nods. He says, “Hey, yeah. It’s been awhile.” Then, “Alex has been filling us in on some of the behind the scenes tour scoop.”
Because Dallon was friends with Alex before he ever met Spencer and Brendon, of course. Because it’s a small fucking world.
Then Zack says, “We really need to get going, guys. Walker? You hanging out with me?”
Jon looks uncertain for a moment, but then he nods, as if making a decision, and that’s how Jon ends up side stage, just within Spencer’s line of sight, smiling, singing along, and-
It’s a good night. Spencer’s really glad that he can say that.
They go from Chicago to Council Bluffs (he’d never really thought that a pavilion in the middle of a corn field would breed that crazy of a concert, but okay), then onto Minneapolis, Indianapolis, and-
They get a hotel the night before the show and it’s right before they’re ready to go to sleep, lying tangled on the bed that they hadn’t made use of earlier, that Brendon says, “I don’t know if I want to go home yet.”
“Me either,” Spencer says, because this has been-He’s been having more fun than he knows how to handle, he fucking loves this tour, and-
*
vii.
They do their unofficial goodbyes after the Detroit show, but for Dallon, it turns out to be a real goodbye, since his flight leaves way too fucking early in the morning. Ian, Spencer, Brendon and Zack all take a taxi to the airport together, then say their goodbyes as they walk down the concourse, leaving Ian at his gate. Brendon and Zack hang out with Spencer until his flight is called, and Spencer waits as long as he can before boarding.
It’s a full flight, but Spencer’s not-he’s not lonely; that would be fucking ridiculous a whole ten minutes into his journey, but he feels sort of off? Like he has his personal space bubble all to himself for the first time in longer than he can remember? Like he’s feeling like there’s something wrong with that?
He’s still feeling unsettled when they land, when he catches a taxi back to Brendon’s house. He lets himself in and it’s so fucking quiet, wrong, wrong, and the air is stuffy, and he would open the windows now, get some air, but he promised Shane he’d be over to get Bogart as soon as he got home and, well.
He’s home.
It’s not a long drive to Shane’s, but Spencer’s still feeling unsettled with no clue how to cure it, and then, well. When he pulls up into the driveway, Shane opens the door to the house, and all Spencer sees is a blur of white before he gets tackled around the knees by a whole thirteen pounds of dog.
He’s laughing before he realizes it, crouching down to rub at Bogart’s ears, even as Bogart throws his head back and starts scolding Spencer like there’s no tomorrow. You’ve been gone and where have you been and I’ve been waiting and waiting and you were still gone! Then Bogart tries to climb into Spencer’s lap, which unbalances him enough that he kind of sits down on Shane and Regan’s driveway. They’re laughing at him (kindly, though) and Dylan and Indie come out to see what all the fuss is about, and it’s only after Bogart is done wiggling around, smelling Spencer from the top of his head down to his elbows, that he climbs out of Spencer’s lap and proceeds to go grab his tie dye tug toy.
“He’s missed you,” Regan says. Shane nods. “He has.”
“We’ve missed him too,” Spencer says. “Brendon’s really fucking missed him.”
Both Regan and Shane nod. This, obviously, was a foregone conclusion.
“So,” Regan asks as Spencer stands back up, “do you have food at your house yet? Do you want to stay for an early dinner?”
Spencer makes it back to the house a little after six, and it takes him longer to lug all of Bogart’s belongings into the house than it did his own, earlier. Bogart spends the first few minutes in the house running all around, probably looking for Brendon. Definitely looking for Brendon, Spencer thinks, when Bogart comes and lies down on the couch next to Spencer, looking up at him hopefully, like Spencer will be able to find his other person. Spencer scratches Bogart’s ears, then grabs his phone and takes a picture.
He sends it to Brendon via Twitter.
It takes Brendon less than an hour to respond. Two minutes later, he gets another text message, this one not fed through Twitter, that says miss you guys too.
*
The next day, when Brendon gets back, Spencer’s actually taking a nap. Or, well, he was taking a nap, because before he even hears the taxi arrive, Bogart’s racing through the house barking as loudly as he can, nails skidding on wood floors. Then Spencer hears the car door. Then he’s wide awake himself.
Bogart’s pacing frantically when Spencer actually makes it to the door, and he’s whining by the time Spencer gets it open. Bogart moves more quickly than Spencer thinks he’s ever seen Bogart move before, and Brendon actually has to drop his suitcases in the middle of the driveway when Bogart reaches him, because Bogart doesn’t just try to tackle his knees, he makes a leap for Brendon’s chest. He might be a little dog, but he can really fucking jump.
When Spencer gets close enough, he can hear Brendon saying, “Hey, hey, Bogart, it’s okay, I’m home, it’s okay.” The words are muffled, though, because Bogart keeps licking at Brendon’s face, ears, neck. His barks are sharp, high pitched, and Spencer knows that Brendon’s getting a different sort of scolding than the one that Spencer got the night before. I made it home and you weren’t here. Where were you?
Finally, Bogart calms down enough to jump out of Brendon’s arms, but instead of running into the house to grab his favorite toy of the day, he comes running for Spencer. He places his front paws on Spencer’s shoe, then barks once, twice, and looks over his shoulder at Brendon.
See? I found him! You can stop looking now.
Spencer-Okay, Spencer will admit that Bogart’s got him well trained, because he can’t help but crouch down and scratch at Bogart’s ears. The weight on the toes of his shoe shifts, then Bogart gives a softer bark.
When Spencer looks up, he sees Brendon looking down at him, this really stupid grin on his face.
“He missed you,” Spencer says. “I told you that your dog missed you.”
“Our dog,” Brendon says, and Spencer feels his heart freeze, just for a second. “He’s our dog. He was waiting for us to come home.”
Spencer doesn’t realize that he’s standing up, doesn’t realize that he’s walking across the yard to where Brendon’s standing. He just-one moment he’s too far away, the next he’s not, and then Spencer’s kissing Brendon, he can’t help it, and it’s only been a little over 24 hours, but that was way, way too long, and Brendon’s holding onto Spencer’s shirt and Bogart’s tail is hitting Spencer’s leg over and over again with the force of his wagging and he’s barking, too, and-
When Spencer pulls back, he rests his forehead against Brendon’s, feels like his smile is never going to leave his face.
“Hi,” he says, and Brendon rubs their noses together, making Spencer laugh as he says it again. “Hi. Welcome home.”
End.