The Ones You Call Home (3/3)
Master Post
part one | part two
The rest of the week crept by. He failed a chemistry pop quiz, inadvertently insulted Chelsea's best friend Holly, had to work over time at Strohecker's to cover for a co worker who didn't show up and didn't sleep for more than an hour at a time, thanks to weird, abstract dreams involving Spencer and Brendon.
The rain came with the last bell of the day, the skies opening up and letting loose the kind of rain that had you soaked and chilled to the bone the minute you stepped outside.
Jon tugged the hood of his rain coat up, ducked his head and darted through two lanes of traffic at a standstill towards his car.
He took fourteenth street towards Burnside and stopped at the light. Spencer was standing at the corner, waiting for the bus, his own coat pulled tight around him. He looked miserable, teeth clenched, head bent against the rain.
Jon watched him for a minute and before he could talk himself out of it, he was rolling down the window.
"Want a ride?" He shouted, trying to be heard over the noise of the rain on the roof of his car and the rush of traffic and horns blaring.
Spencer turned sharply, startled. His eyes narrowed, his chin came up a fraction of an inch and he shook his head.
Jon thought of letting it go, but he knew how far from school Spencer lived and it was getting colder.
"Get in the damn car," Jon sighed, putting the car in park and wrenching the door open. The light had changed to green and behind him people were leaning on their horns. Jon ignored them.
Spencer didn't move though Jon could see the defensiveness fade a little at the pull of the warmth of the car.
Jon was thinking of getting out of the car and shoving Spencer into the front seat when Spencer seemed to make a decision and came sloshing over, climbing with a grimace into the car.
Neither one said anything at first. But Spencer was shivering, Jon could practically hear his teeth chattering. He turned the heat up. "Take off your coat," Jon said quietly. They were at red light and Jon turned to help pull the slick, wet material clinging to Spencer.
"Better?" Jon asked.
Spencer was staring straight out the window. He nodded.
Jon let out a breath but didn't say anything else.
The traffic over to the east side of the river wasn't as bad as Jon had been fearing, but the tension in the car was making Jon antsy, a headache already building at the base of his skull.
"Look," Jon said suddenly, taking a detour onto a narrow side street. He jerked the car to a stop.
Spencer looked up sharply, startled.
"I'm sorry," Jon blurted, turning to look at Spencer.
It was the wrong thing to say. Spencer's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.
"Look, I shouldn't have led you on like that," Jon said quietly, "I knew it couldn't be anything and I let it happen. I kissed you anyway. I'm sorry for that." He let the silence fill the car as Spencer just sat there, saying nothing, but not looking away either. He was looking right at Jon, and Jon couldn't for the life of him figure out what Spencer was thinking.
"And I'm sorry I was such an asshole that morning." Jon said the last part as barely more than a whisper, remembering. Ashamed.
Jon thought that was all he'd wanted to say but something about seeing Spencer wet and cold, looking oddly vulnerable made Jon open his mouth again.
"I wanted to." It was an admission he hadn't planned on making. "I was watching you listen to that album and you looked like, fuck, you looked amazing." He watched Spencer's eyes widen, the pink flush was back.
"I panicked," Jon admitted. "The next morning, it was all I could think about, and I fucking freaked. And I'm sorry for that."
"Is that it?" Spencer asked quietly, the only thing he had to say in response to everything Jon had just told him.
Jon figured he probably didn't deserve anything else. He put the car in drive. "Yeah," he said quietly. "That's it."
The rest of the ride to Spencer's house was quiet. Jon pulled to the curb and watched Spencer shrug into his coat and grab his things. But he didn't move. "Maybe," Spencer said quietly after a minute, "you could give me a ride tomorrow?"
It was unsure, a question. But it was a peace offering. Jon felt something like relief flood him and he nodded, a little too enthusiastic. "Yes, I'll see you at 7:45?"
Spencer didn't smile but something in his eyes softened. "Thanks," he said.
Jon watched him go.
* * *
Jon picked Spencer up on Friday morning with a mug of coffee he'd convinced his mom to make.
"Thanks," Spencer said when he climbed into the car, taking the cup from Jon with a grateful sigh.
The ride to school wasn't calm or easy but the tension from yesterday seemed to have dissipated a little. They listened to Jon's iPod and Jon felt better than he had since before the kiss.
"Thanks for the ride, and the coffee," Spencer said when Jon had found a parking spot around the corner from Lincoln.
"Do you want to eat lunch with us?" Jon asked suddenly.
"Maybe some other time," was all Spencer said. Jon let him go. He'd gotten more than he deserved, he knew. Spencer was talking to him again. But despite all the confusion, it didn't feel like enough. Jon couldn't help the disappointment that it wasn't what he wanted.
Tom was waiting for him in their usual seats in Chemistry when Jon skidded in a few seconds before the bell.
"We're going to smoke up at Dave's tomorrow," Tom said, leaning across the aisle to whisper to Jon.
"Cool," Jon said, bumping his fist with Tom's. A sudden image of Spencer flashed into his head, his smiling eyes, his flushed skin. He wondered what Spencer would look like, high. Jon spent the entire fifty minute period staring into space, thinking about whether or not Spencer had ever smoked up before, and what Jon would have to do to not only convince him to try but also talk him into spending an entire afternoon with him. Jon didn't think he had much of a chance of either happening.
But when Jon met Chelsea and Holly and Tom at the lockers for lunch, Spencer was already there, sitting on the other side of Jon's locker, space enough for three people between him and Chelsea. He looked like he was a second from fleeing.
Jon was so surprised to see Spencer there he was pretty sure the smile on his face made him look ridiculous.
"Hi," Jon said, once he'd slid to the floor next to Spencer and was sitting comfortably with his back against the locker. Spencer didn't say anything.
Jon didn't know if he was forgiven. What he did know was the way he'd felt, seeing Spencer sitting there with his group of friends, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, but there because Jon had asked him.
For all the indecision and drama of the last few weeks, Jon felt like a decision had been made for him just then, a subconscious choice.
"Thank you," Jon said just soft enough for Spencer's ears alone. Spencer pulled back sharply, eyes wide.
And Jon felt like an ass again because inadvertently he'd jerked Spencer around. Spencer had no reason to give Jon a second chance. But here he was anyway.
Jon didn't try to say anything else to Spencer, though he made sure to include him in the conversation as much as he could. As the first bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Jon got to his feet. He held out a hand unthinkingly to pull Spencer up. Spencer took it, and Jon wrapped his fingers around Spencer's wrist, where the skin was warm and thin, and pulled him up. Spencer stumbled, foot tripping against Jon's book bag, still on the floor, and he ended up pressed against Jon's chest. Jon put a steadying hand on Spencer's hip but Spencer scrambled away a second later. He grabbed his backpack and took off down the hall without another glance back at Jon.
Chelsea was leaning against Jon's arm, her chin tucked over his shoulder. "He's weird," she said.
Jon didn't say anything.
* * *
Spencer was waiting at Jon’s locker after the last period.
“Hey,” he said quietly, still mostly aloof, still obviously hurt. “I just wanted to say thanks again for the ride, and let you know we're going to be at Sid's this weekend, obviously.” He took a breath and tilted his head, eyes guarded. “You could come, if you wanted."
He left it at that, up to Jon.
"I have plans," Jon said, wishing he hadn't told Tom he'd go over to Dave's.
Spencer's face was unreadable. "Okay," he shrugged. "See you on Monday."
Jon was still staring blankly in the direction Spencer had gone when Brendon came up behind him, arms locking him in a hug.
"Hey," Jon said, smiling softly. "You ready?"
Brendon squeezed his arms tighter around Jon's middle and pressed his face to Jon's shoulder.
"Hey," Jon said softly, "you okay?" Jon tried to move so he could turn around and look at Brendon but Brendon held him still.
"Fine," Brendon mumbled against Jon's back. Jon finally got Brendon to step back enough that he could pull him against him in a real hug.
Jon wasn't going to complain, he liked Brendon's hugs, but he was uncharacteristically quiet.
“Hey,” Jon whispered against Brendon’s hair. “You know you can talk to me, right?”
Brendon didn’t say anything, and if held on a little tighter, Jon figured that was okay by him.
* * *
Tom dragged Jon to a movie with him and Holly, insisting it was important to help him get over Chelsea. “You’ve been in a shitty mood ever since she dumped you,” Tom said on the way to the theater. Jon didn’t bother correcting him.
Jon sat through a spectacularly awful action flick starring some muscle head who used to be a wrestler and did his best to drown out the sounds of Tom and Holly trying to swallow each other’s face next to him.
Tom tried to convince Jon to come smoke up at his house but Jon gave some sort of lame excuse and let Tom drop him at his house.
He was in a weird, restless mood. He climbed into his car and sat there in front of his house with the engine on and the radio off.
After a few minutes he dug out his phone and sent a quick text to Spencer before he could think better of it. “want to go for a drive?”
His palms were sweaty, he felt like he might throw up and still, there was nothing but relief when Spencer typed back less than a minute later with a simple “yes.”
Spencer was sitting on the front steps of his house when Jon pulled up.
“Let’s go to the beach,” Jon blurted, as soon as Spencer had climbed into the car.
He raised his eyebrows, eyes wide. “You can’t be serious. Now?”
Jon had no idea what he was doing. It was rainy, and cool, they both had curfew in an hour. Yet, all he wanted to do was go to the beach. Now. With Spencer.
Even in the dark, Jon could make out the quiet, speculative look on Spencer's face. "Okay," he said with a tilt of his head after a minute. "Give me a second." He got out of the car and Jon watched him walk slowly back into the house.
There were no less than three reasons this was a terrible idea. But Jon was feeling restless, he needed to get out. And he wanted Spencer with him.
Spencer was back a few minutes later.
"What'd your parents say?" Jon asked. Spencer was a good kid. Jon had no doubt Spencer had been in there letting him know not to expect him until late.
Spencer busied himself with pulling the seatbelt over his shoulder and securing it with a click that seemed loud in the small car. "Nothing. I told them I was staying at Ryan's house." Spencer's chin went up, shoulders back, daring Jon to say something.
"Okay," Jon said.
Jon couldn't decipher the tension in the car between them. Neither of them said much as Jon took highway 26 west towards the coast. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet, but there was something in the air between them that made Jon feel like he was holding his breath.
"Thanks," Jon said after a while. The car was warm, Spencer had his legs underneath him, his head back against the seat and Jon was feeling better than he had since he'd gone and fucked everything up.
Spencer turned, startled, to look at Jon. "For what?"
Jon took a second, blew out a breath, shrugged. "For this."
Spencer looked surprised but after a beat he said softly, "you're welcome.”
Jon drove on auto pilot out towards Canyon Beach and the small strip of public beach a few miles south of Rockaway. It was past eleven when he pulled the car into the empty parking lot.
Jon grabbed his hoodie and rain coat from the back seat. The rain had stopped and the wind had dried things off so that when Jon pulled his shoes and socks off, the sand was cool but dry beneath his toes.
Spencer was bundled up in a dark hooded sweatshirt that was a couple sizes too big for him. It made him look smaller, more vulnerable. He watched Jon take off his shoes for a beat before he followed, stuffing his socks into the pockets of his sweatshirt.
The Oregon coast, especially like this, at night, was Jon's favorite place to be, always. The moon was three quarters tonight, already high up in the sky. The clouds had dispersed enough that the moon shone bright on the water, illuminating the beach enough to see where they were headed.
"Wow," Spencer mumbled, stumbling over his own feet as they made their way down the slope towards the water. It was accidental, Jon could tell from the way Spencer's shoulders hunched that he hadn't meant to say anything.
"Yeah," Jon agreed.
They walked up the beach, a fair distance between the two of them, Jon's face lifted up towards the sky, head back, unable to take his eyes off the millions of tiny stars. He took a deep breath that he felt all the way down to his toes, and spread his arms. The wind whipped around them, the roar of the waves drowned everything else out and Jon just took it all in.
"You want to sit?" Jon asked eventually. They'd walked close to three miles along the water, small, modest houses to their left, the waves to their right. The readout on Jon’s phone said it was past midnight.
Spencer nodded and let Jon lead them to the dunes, where the sand was dry and brush rose up around them like a nest.
Jon leaned back on his elbows, burrowed his bare feet in the cool, dry sand and closed his eyes.
The wind whipped around them, not too cold but comforting in a way.
Jon used to come here with Brendon when they were little, both of them running headfirst toward the water, having forgotten since the last time how brutally cold it was, no matter the time of year.
It felt different with Spencer, sharing this place with him, this beach. It felt like something.
“I’m really, really sorry,” Jon said suddenly, surprising himself. He hadn’t meant to say anything, to bring it up again. Spencer seemed okay with letting it drop, the whole thing, and Jon had thought that was okay by him. But now, here at this place with Spencer, it didn’t feel like enough to just pretend he hadn’t been an asshole.
He opened his eyes when he felt Spencer shift, not away but closer, close enough that he could feel Spencer’s body heat.
“Jon,” Spencer said quietly. “Don’t.”
Jon struggled up off his elbows, leaning forward, wanting to make things right between them again.
Spencer cut off whatever it was Jon had been about to say, and whatever that was he wasn’t sure, touched Jon’s shoulder briefly.
“This, whatever it is that’s going on between us, and I know you feel it too, it’s huge. It’s intense. It makes sense that we freaked out.”
“You freaked out?” Jon mumbled a little hoarsely. Spencer’s eyes looked really weirdly light, intense.
Spencer rolled his eyes and grinned a little ruefully. “Ask Ryan about how I made him come over after you dropped me off that night.”
“I was such an asshole that morning, though.” Jon’s chest felt tight suddenly, like he couldn’t breathe.
“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, smiling a small, sad smile. “But I could have been a little more understanding, I think.”
“Don’t,” Jon said then, grabbing Spencer’s hand, curling his fingers around Spencer’s wrist. “Don’t be all forgiving and shit, I don’t deserve it.”
“Jon,” Spencer muttered, “shut up. If I want to be forgiving and shit, then I’m going to.”
Jon huffed, a startled laugh. He ran his thumb over the inside of Spencer’s palm, a little absently.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jon admitted suddenly. It seemed like the least he could do.
“We’re kind of a mess about this,” Spencer agreed, a mumbled jumble of sound. Jon hadn’t realized how close they were until Spencer dropped his head, forehead resting on Jon’s shoulder for a brief second before he seemed to realize it and moved to scoot away. Jon’s hand came up, palm flat to rest on Spencer’s back, reassure him that this was okay.
They fell asleep eventually, right there in the dunes, legs tangled for warmth, Jon’s fingers curled in Spencer’s.
* * *
A chill woke Jon. It took him a minute to get his bearings, last night coming back to him as he opened his eyes. It wasn't quite morning, a dim gray light had started to creep up. Jon was lying on his side, legs curled beneath him, hood pulled up over his hair. Spencer was in the same position, facing Jon, his mouth open in sleep.
His hair was swept off his forehead, his face completely relaxed, peaceful as he slept. Jon shivered as the wind picked up, sending a rush of cool air down the back of his sweatshirt. Spencer moved, curling closer towards Jon, looking for body heat.
Jon hesitated for a second before lifting his arm to wrap it around Spencer's shoulders, pulling him in until Spencer's legs were scissored between Jon's, the way they’d fallen asleep together.
Jon took a shaky breath and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, it was morning. It was cloudy, no sun around to make things warmer. Jon yawned and felt Spencer shift awake.
"Morning," Jon mumbled, sitting up slowly. There was a knot in the pit of his stomach. He'd deliberately ignored his parents' request that he call them, and he'd not only missed curfew, he'd stayed out all night. He was going to be in so much trouble.
"What?" Spencer said quietly, taking in Jon's frown.
"My parents," Jon grimaced. "They're going to kill me."
"Oh," Spencer said, "I'm sor-"
"I'm not," Jon said quickly, reaching out for Spencer before he could talk himself out of it. He closed his fingers around Spencer's wrist. "I'm not sorry."
Spencer had sleep marks on his skin, cheek red with the imprint from sleeping on the sand. He looked a hell of a lot younger than sixteen.
Jon curled his fingers around the back of Spencer’s neck and brought him forward. Spencer’s eyes widened, his hands came up, fingers curling in Jon’s sweatshirt. Jon didn’t kiss him, not right away. His stomach was flipping wildly, nerves over his parents, nerves over Spencer, anticipation. He rested his forehead against Spencer’s, closed his eyes and breathed.
He felt it when Spencer relaxed, felt him take a shaky breath and then another.
Jon rubbed his thumb in circles over the cool skin at the nape of Spencer’s neck, felt Spencer’s breathing change, shaky again.
Jon slid his fingers in Spencer’s hair and gently lifted his head, just enough that he could press his lips to Spencer’s.
Jon’s mouth was dry, his breath was probably not all that attractive, and Spencer’s lips were slightly chapped from the cool air. But Spencer smelled like the ocean, like whatever soap he used, and his breath hitched and it didn’t matter that it wasn’t perfect.
“No more freaking out,” Spencer said a little blearily when Jon pulled away.
“I can’t promise anything,” Jon admitted with a sheepish smile. He touched his thumb to the corner of Spencer’s mouth. “But I’ll try.”
* * *
Jon's parents were waiting when he walked through the front door. It was a little after seven, the roads covered in the kind of slick wetness that only happened in Portland after a steady rain. Jon was tired, he had a knot in his stomach that had nothing to do with what was waiting for him inside and yet, he couldn't stop the small smile every time he thought about Spencer, standing on his front porch in Jon's hoodie.
Jon's father was sitting in the old wooden arm chair near the window, staring stonily out towards the street, and his mother, still in her sweats, was pacing the length of the living.
Jon stood just inside the entryway, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched. His mother stopped her pacing when she saw him, her face impassive, but she hurried to him and gave him a quick hug.
"You are in so much trouble," she told him, pulling away.
Jon already knew that, but it sucked to hear it out loud, to see the anger on his dad's face, the worry and relief on his mother's.
"You're grounded for the week," his dad said, getting to his feet. He came over to where Jon was huddled. He clasped him on the shoulder. "And after that, you're curfew is ten o'clock on school nights, eleven on weekends." Jon bit his tongue against the groan. He'd had a feeling his curfew was going to take a major hit but this was worse.
His dad looked at him for a moment, and then let out a breath. "I'm glad you're okay. But if you ever make your mother worry like that, curfew is going to be the least of your worries."
"Yes, dad," Jon mumbled.
His parents let him go after that and Jon all but ran up the stairs to escape to his room. He was stuck in the house for the rest of the weekend and the thought made him thoroughly depressed. But he thought about Monday, about getting to see Spencer at school, and it didn't seem like such a big deal.
He took a fast shower, his entire body aching from sleeping on the sand and when he got out, he bundled into a sweatshirt that had belonged to one of his brothers once upon a time.
It was barely eight, Jon realized, checking his phone. He climbed into bed, thinking he'd sleep the day away, but thumbed through his phone book, clicking "send" when he reached Spencer's number.
"Hey," Spencer said, his voice sleepy sounding when he answered.
There was a flood of warmth clear through to his fingertips, hearing Spencer's voice like that, his guard down.
"Hi," Jon agreed, burrowing down beneath the blankets, tucking his phone against his ear. "Did I wake you?"
"Mm, no," Spencer mumbled, and Jon had a sudden urge to know what he looked like right now. "Are you okay? How much trouble are you in?"
"It's okay," Jon said a little ruefully. It wasn't like this was unexpected. He hadn't been thinking all that clearly last night, showing up at Spencer's house, driving an hour out to the beach, ignoring the nagging in the back of his brain telling him he should call his mom, take Spencer home.
"I'm grounded," he admitted and he could hear Spencer's sympathetic groan.
"Sorry," Spencer said and Jon smiled. "Not your fault, remember? I'm the idiot who kidnapped you.”
"Jon, still, that sucks a lot."
Jon agreed, if only because it meant he wouldn't get to see Spencer until Monday. Not that he was going to say that out loud, ever.
"If it makes you feel any better," Spencer said around a yawn, sounding sleepy and far away, "Ryan's pissed at me."
"What? Why?" Jon knew the answer to that, Ryan hated him.
"He thinks I shouldn't have lied to my parents," Spencer said quietly. There was a beat of silence on the other end and then Spencer said softly, "he's right. I've never lied to them. I've never had to."
"Spence," Jon started, feeling like an asshole. He hadn't thought any of this through, hadn't thought about what it would mean for Spencer, having Ryan cover for him, lying to his parents.
"Don't, Jon," Spencer mumbled, "it's okay. I knew what I was doing. I wanted to." He said the last part quietly, his voice trailing off to a whisper.
"I'm sorry you're grounded," Spencer said after a minute. "I was hoping you could come to Sid's."
Jon had been hoping, too. "Yeah, I know. But I'll pick you up on Monday before school," he said. "Uh, if that's okay," he added hurriedly.
"Yeah," Spencer whispered, cleared his throat, and said a little louder, "that'd be nice."
They talked for a few more minutes but it was clear they were both quickly losing speed, exhausted.
"Okay, I'll see you on Monday," Jon said, eyes closed, curling to his side.
"Jon," Spencer said suddenly, "call me, if you get bored or whatever."
Jon smiled and mumbled, "I will."
* * *
The weekend sucked. That was all there was to it. His parents weren't feeling particularly generous towards Jon, not that he blamed them, but still. He spent most of it in his room, doing his homework, talking on the phone with Brendon about his latest attempts with Ryan, texting with Tom.
He was counting the hours, he realized on Sunday evening. For the first time in his life, he was counting down the hours until the weekend was over. It was Spencer's fault. He'd decided sometime that afternoon, lying on his back in his bed, his hand down his underwear, that everything that was crazy in his life was Spencer's fault. He'd jerked off five times over the weekend, every time thinking about Spencer. The first few times had started with the old standby fantasy he'd always jerked off to, the pretty redheaded girl giving way to Spencer's face as he was getting close. By the third time, he'd given up pretending and started off thinking of Spencer's pink lips, the shape of his ass in those ridiculous black jeans he loved, the way his t-shirt rode up his belly. He always came the hardest remembering that night a few weeks ago, the feel of Spencer hovering over him, the way his lips had tasted, the soft noises he'd made.
In short, Jon was screwed and it was Spencer's fault. But he wasn't that upset about it anymore, not when he thought about the alternative, not having Spencer. Not that he had Spencer, not that he wanted to have Spencer.
* * *
The week after the beach, Jon was at Spencer's house every morning at 7:45, waiting at the curb for him. He hadn't intended it to become a thing, giving Spencer a ride. But Monday morning when he showed up, Spencer came out of the house with his hair wet, his cheeks pink, smiling a crooked smile like he was happy to see Jon, it just sort of seemed natural to show up again on Tuesday. By Friday, when he pulled into Spencer's driveway, idling and waiting, he realized he'd spent the whole week looking forward to the mornings, to Spencer.
"You know," Spencer said when he'd climbed into the front seat and was buckling himself in, "you don't have to give me a ride to school." He was looking at Jon with a crooked eyebrow and a tilt of his head. "Not that I don't love you for it," he said, mouth curving in a soft smile and turning to stare out the window. Jon watched his profile and noticed the pink flush on Spencer's cheeks.
"I like it," Jon blurted before he could bite his lip.
Spencer turned his head. "Okay," he said with a small smile. "I do too."
School was still a drag. Jon hated first period chemistry as much as ever but now there were texts from Spencer to keep him from dying of boredom, Jon bent over his desk in the back row, Heffler obliviously rambling on. And break after second period meant Brendon and Spencer were waiting for him at the stairs in the language hall, heads bent together talking about something and they'd look up almost in unison, smiling, Brendon with his bright, beautiful beam, and Spencer with his softer, smaller smile that he only ever smiled for Jon.
Being grounded meant he went from school to work and from work straight home. No hanging out at Tom's or going to Council Crest, or giving Spencer or Brendon a ride home. By the end of the week he was ready for the punishment to be over.
If he had to be grounded for a week, it was decent timing that his punishment was up before the coming weekend, the weekend before Halloween.
"There's a huge party at Ben's," Jon told Spencer at lunch on Friday. They were in the cafeteria, a group of tables in the corner. Tom and Holly were making out and Jon was studiously ignoring them. Chelsea had started eating lunch with her soccer team. Jon felt like an asshole about that, but he wasn't sorry he'd ended things.
Spencer gave him a quirk of his lips that was all cynicism. "Jon," he said, a little bit of exasperation in his voice. "I don't think so."
"Me and Ryan are going," Brendon said suddenly, perking up. He had his leg draped over Ryan's lap. Ryan seemed completely oblivious, head bent over a book. He looked up when he heard his name. "No we're not," he said, jaw set.
"We are," Brendon nodded, pushing his fingers through Ryan's hair. "You'll like it, it's a Halloween party, Ryan," Brendon said like that made all the difference in the world. Ryan ignored him and bent his head back over his book.
"Okay," Jon said, running over options in his head. He didn't think he'd ever get Spencer to one of these parties. But he wasn't going to go without him, which was a huge issue Jon didn't want to think about ever, since it said way too much about his investment in Spencer.
"So," Jon said, voice pitched low for Spencer's ears only. "We could see a movie."
Spencer's eyes widened and the pink that was usually the only sign of Spencer's feelings on a particular subject crept down his throat, disappearing beneath the vee of his t-shirt. Not that Jon noticed.
"Yeah? Really?" Spencer looked pleased, and maybe a little like he didn't believe Jon.
If they'd been alone, instead of in a high school cafeteria, surrounded by people, Jon might have touched Spencer's hand. As it was, though no one was paying them any attention, Jon was hyper aware of how not alone they were.
"Yeah," Jon smiled. "We can grab something to eat, go see a movie. If you want."
Spencer looked so surprised, so completely content that Jon could think only of how much he suddenly wanted to kiss Spencer, pull him into his lap and kiss the surprise off his face.
"I want," Spencer said quietly, bending his head back over his lunch like it was the most important thing. The back of his neck was pink and Jon curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to see if it was as warm, as soft, as it looked.
It took Jon a second to realize that Brendon was watching him with an unreadable look on his face.
"What?" Jon said quietly, trying to keep the defensiveness out.
Brendon shrugged. "Nothing," he said, but it was so much more than nothing judging by the guard Jon watched come up.
"B," Jon muttered under his breath, not wanting to start anything but he fucking hated the way Brendon did that lately, closing in on himself in a way Jon had never seen before these last few weeks.
Brendon didn't budge and Jon grit his teeth. They'd talk about it eventually, they always did, but for now it was bugging the hell out of Jon.
* * *
Jon picked Spencer up a little after seven. He even parked his car in the driveway and went up the front steps, knocked on the door, and let Spencer's parents usher him in.
"Hello," Mrs. Smith said warmly, holding her hand out for Jon to shake. "It's nice to finally meet you. Thank you for giving Spencer a ride to school so often."
Jon shook her hand, and then Mr. Smith's. "I don't mind," Jon said with a shrug, hoping it didn't look like he was sweating from nerves and butterflies in his stomach.
"We're pleased Spencer is meeting so many new friends," his mother said and Jon knew then that she and her husband had no clue that her son and he were edging towards being so much more than that. He'd have felt vaguely guilty about that but Spencer came out of the kitchen then, wiping his hands on his jeans.
"Mom," Spencer said with a roll of his eyes. "Lay off the third degree please. Jon's a good guy."
“I wasn’t interrogating him, Spencer,” Mrs Smith said, pushing Spencer’s bangs off his forehead. “I was just telling him we’re glad you’re making new friends.”
Spencer looked horrified. He made an apologetic, embarrassed face at Jon. Jon bit his lip against a laugh.
“Okay, we’re going now before you cause any more damage,” Spencer said with a grimace.
“Home by eleven, Spencer,” Mr. Smith called from the front porch, as Jon and Spencer climbed into Jon’s car.
“Oh god, sorry,” Spencer muttered, “my parents are a little overprotective.”
"What do you want to see?" Jon asked as he turned onto East Burnside, heading over to Lloyd Center.
"Ryan told me about this German documentary that's playing this weekend," Spencer said with a shrug. Jon turned and made a horrified face at Spencer who tilted his head back and laughed. "Or," he said, grinning, "we could see that Will Ferrell movie that's playing."
"Thank you," Jon mumbled, giving Spencer a smile he hoped came off as charming. It seemed to work since Spencer looked away, ducking his head and biting his lip in a disarming, adorable way that made Jon narrowly miss running a red light.
"Shit," Jon muttered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel. It wasn't as though this was new, the effect Spencer had on him. But it took him by surprise occasionally. And there was the fact that Jon still wasn't all that comfortable with it.
The lot at the theater was packed, with Friday night movie goers and people taking the Max downtown. They walked across the huge lot, the wind picking up and making it suddenly a lot cooler than it had been in the last few months.
"Did Brendon convince Ryan to go to the party?" Jon asked as they walked, his hands tucked into his pockets to keep from reaching out and grabbing Spencer's hand, an impulse he'd never had when dating girls.
Spencer laughed then, an abrupt, amused sound. "Yes, and I had to hear an hour's worth of bitching about Brendon's persistence. I even walked over to Ryan's and helped him pick out a costume."
Jon grinned to himself. Jon had gotten away with saying no to Brendon once, and even that didn't really count since Brendon had been drunk at the time and halfway to passing out. Ryan didn't stand a chance.
"At least there's bound to be some stories tomorrow," Jon said, catching Spencer's eye and smiling at the thought. He was pretty sure an infatuated Brendon, alcohol and Ryan were not a good combination.
"Or we might have to do damage control," Spencer said with a wry tilt of his lips. "You don't know Ryan, and I'm a little worried Brendon's perfect for him."
Jon didn't ask for clarification. He knew exactly what Spencer meant.
When they got to the ticket window, Jon didn't offer to pay for Spencer's ticket, though he'd argued with himself about it on the drive to Spencer's house. He was afraid it might mean exactly what he wanted it to mean so he kept his mouth shut and let Spencer buy his own ticket.
"Do you want to share popcorn?" Jon couldn't help asking, thinking he liked the idea.
They were being pushed along the crowded lobby by the swell of people and Spencer seemed to stumble, tripping on the carpet. Jon raised his eyebrow and Spencer nudged him with an elbow in the stomach and told him to shut up.
"I didn't realize you were so graceful," Jon told him, using Spencer's lack of balance as an excuse to put a hand on his lower back, however briefly.
Spencer scowled, forehead furrowing adorably and said, "for that, I'm making you buy the popcorn. And you have to buy me Red Vines."
Jon found himself thinking he'd buy Spencer any damn thing he wanted, so long as he looked at Jon like that, pink lips and big, smiling eyes.
"What's going on with your family for Thanksgiving?" Jon asked while they waited in the interminable concession line.
"We're going to Las Vegas to see my grandparents," Spencer said with a shrug, looking like the idea depressed him. "You?"
"We drive up to Seattle every year," Jon said, taking a step as the line inched forward.
"God I'm jealous. I love Seattle," Spencer said with a noise that sounded like half a sigh, half a groan.
Jon bumped Spencer with his hip. "Yes, but Vegas has all that ... gambling?" Jon said with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders, coming up with nothing.
"I don't know why I like you," Spencer said with a sad shake of his head. Jon went completely still, eyes frozen on Spencer's face.
Spencer blanched immediately as what he'd said sunk in. "Oh god," he mumbled, looking down at the carpet. When he looked up again, he gave Jon a small smile.
They hadn’t so much as touched, really, since the beach, let alone kiss. They hadn’t talked about it, but there was some unspoken agreement that they were going to let things happen.
Jon bent his head, brushed his lips against Spencer’s ear and said, “it’s okay, I like you too.”
When he pulled back Spencer was looking at him, eyes huge, cheeks pink.
Jon gave him a reassuring smile and pulled him towards the theater.
* * *
"Hey, so," Spencer said quickly, rushed. "Can I ask you a question?"
Jon swallowed and tried to look nonchalant. "Sure," he nodded.
Spencer licked his lower lip, Jon watched the tip of his tongue slide along to the corner of his mouth and Jon's palms itched, his own mouth suddenly dry. He dragged his eyes back up. Spencer looked flushed.
"Was this a date?" Spencer blurted. His chin came up a fraction of an inch and his eyes never left Jon's.
Jon wanted to kiss Spencer, for a million reasons; so he wouldn't have to answer Spencer's question, so he wouldn't have to think about what he wanted the answer to be, to see if he could taste the candy on Spencer's tongue. But he knew the answer. He'd known the second he'd decided to ditch a party with his best friends and come see a lame movie on Halloween weekend with a guy he hadn’t stopped thinking about since they’d met.
"Yes, if you want it to be," Jon said quietly, resisting the urge to hold his breath.
“Oh,” Spencer said, clearly not expecting that answer. “Good,” he breathed, and slid across the seat, pushing his hand into Jon’s hair.
[ end ]
Edit: Some thoughts about the way this ended
part one | part two
The rest of the week crept by. He failed a chemistry pop quiz, inadvertently insulted Chelsea's best friend Holly, had to work over time at Strohecker's to cover for a co worker who didn't show up and didn't sleep for more than an hour at a time, thanks to weird, abstract dreams involving Spencer and Brendon.
The rain came with the last bell of the day, the skies opening up and letting loose the kind of rain that had you soaked and chilled to the bone the minute you stepped outside.
Jon tugged the hood of his rain coat up, ducked his head and darted through two lanes of traffic at a standstill towards his car.
He took fourteenth street towards Burnside and stopped at the light. Spencer was standing at the corner, waiting for the bus, his own coat pulled tight around him. He looked miserable, teeth clenched, head bent against the rain.
Jon watched him for a minute and before he could talk himself out of it, he was rolling down the window.
"Want a ride?" He shouted, trying to be heard over the noise of the rain on the roof of his car and the rush of traffic and horns blaring.
Spencer turned sharply, startled. His eyes narrowed, his chin came up a fraction of an inch and he shook his head.
Jon thought of letting it go, but he knew how far from school Spencer lived and it was getting colder.
"Get in the damn car," Jon sighed, putting the car in park and wrenching the door open. The light had changed to green and behind him people were leaning on their horns. Jon ignored them.
Spencer didn't move though Jon could see the defensiveness fade a little at the pull of the warmth of the car.
Jon was thinking of getting out of the car and shoving Spencer into the front seat when Spencer seemed to make a decision and came sloshing over, climbing with a grimace into the car.
Neither one said anything at first. But Spencer was shivering, Jon could practically hear his teeth chattering. He turned the heat up. "Take off your coat," Jon said quietly. They were at red light and Jon turned to help pull the slick, wet material clinging to Spencer.
"Better?" Jon asked.
Spencer was staring straight out the window. He nodded.
Jon let out a breath but didn't say anything else.
The traffic over to the east side of the river wasn't as bad as Jon had been fearing, but the tension in the car was making Jon antsy, a headache already building at the base of his skull.
"Look," Jon said suddenly, taking a detour onto a narrow side street. He jerked the car to a stop.
Spencer looked up sharply, startled.
"I'm sorry," Jon blurted, turning to look at Spencer.
It was the wrong thing to say. Spencer's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.
"Look, I shouldn't have led you on like that," Jon said quietly, "I knew it couldn't be anything and I let it happen. I kissed you anyway. I'm sorry for that." He let the silence fill the car as Spencer just sat there, saying nothing, but not looking away either. He was looking right at Jon, and Jon couldn't for the life of him figure out what Spencer was thinking.
"And I'm sorry I was such an asshole that morning." Jon said the last part as barely more than a whisper, remembering. Ashamed.
Jon thought that was all he'd wanted to say but something about seeing Spencer wet and cold, looking oddly vulnerable made Jon open his mouth again.
"I wanted to." It was an admission he hadn't planned on making. "I was watching you listen to that album and you looked like, fuck, you looked amazing." He watched Spencer's eyes widen, the pink flush was back.
"I panicked," Jon admitted. "The next morning, it was all I could think about, and I fucking freaked. And I'm sorry for that."
"Is that it?" Spencer asked quietly, the only thing he had to say in response to everything Jon had just told him.
Jon figured he probably didn't deserve anything else. He put the car in drive. "Yeah," he said quietly. "That's it."
The rest of the ride to Spencer's house was quiet. Jon pulled to the curb and watched Spencer shrug into his coat and grab his things. But he didn't move. "Maybe," Spencer said quietly after a minute, "you could give me a ride tomorrow?"
It was unsure, a question. But it was a peace offering. Jon felt something like relief flood him and he nodded, a little too enthusiastic. "Yes, I'll see you at 7:45?"
Spencer didn't smile but something in his eyes softened. "Thanks," he said.
Jon watched him go.
* * *
Jon picked Spencer up on Friday morning with a mug of coffee he'd convinced his mom to make.
"Thanks," Spencer said when he climbed into the car, taking the cup from Jon with a grateful sigh.
The ride to school wasn't calm or easy but the tension from yesterday seemed to have dissipated a little. They listened to Jon's iPod and Jon felt better than he had since before the kiss.
"Thanks for the ride, and the coffee," Spencer said when Jon had found a parking spot around the corner from Lincoln.
"Do you want to eat lunch with us?" Jon asked suddenly.
"Maybe some other time," was all Spencer said. Jon let him go. He'd gotten more than he deserved, he knew. Spencer was talking to him again. But despite all the confusion, it didn't feel like enough. Jon couldn't help the disappointment that it wasn't what he wanted.
Tom was waiting for him in their usual seats in Chemistry when Jon skidded in a few seconds before the bell.
"We're going to smoke up at Dave's tomorrow," Tom said, leaning across the aisle to whisper to Jon.
"Cool," Jon said, bumping his fist with Tom's. A sudden image of Spencer flashed into his head, his smiling eyes, his flushed skin. He wondered what Spencer would look like, high. Jon spent the entire fifty minute period staring into space, thinking about whether or not Spencer had ever smoked up before, and what Jon would have to do to not only convince him to try but also talk him into spending an entire afternoon with him. Jon didn't think he had much of a chance of either happening.
But when Jon met Chelsea and Holly and Tom at the lockers for lunch, Spencer was already there, sitting on the other side of Jon's locker, space enough for three people between him and Chelsea. He looked like he was a second from fleeing.
Jon was so surprised to see Spencer there he was pretty sure the smile on his face made him look ridiculous.
"Hi," Jon said, once he'd slid to the floor next to Spencer and was sitting comfortably with his back against the locker. Spencer didn't say anything.
Jon didn't know if he was forgiven. What he did know was the way he'd felt, seeing Spencer sitting there with his group of friends, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, but there because Jon had asked him.
For all the indecision and drama of the last few weeks, Jon felt like a decision had been made for him just then, a subconscious choice.
"Thank you," Jon said just soft enough for Spencer's ears alone. Spencer pulled back sharply, eyes wide.
And Jon felt like an ass again because inadvertently he'd jerked Spencer around. Spencer had no reason to give Jon a second chance. But here he was anyway.
Jon didn't try to say anything else to Spencer, though he made sure to include him in the conversation as much as he could. As the first bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Jon got to his feet. He held out a hand unthinkingly to pull Spencer up. Spencer took it, and Jon wrapped his fingers around Spencer's wrist, where the skin was warm and thin, and pulled him up. Spencer stumbled, foot tripping against Jon's book bag, still on the floor, and he ended up pressed against Jon's chest. Jon put a steadying hand on Spencer's hip but Spencer scrambled away a second later. He grabbed his backpack and took off down the hall without another glance back at Jon.
Chelsea was leaning against Jon's arm, her chin tucked over his shoulder. "He's weird," she said.
Jon didn't say anything.
* * *
Spencer was waiting at Jon’s locker after the last period.
“Hey,” he said quietly, still mostly aloof, still obviously hurt. “I just wanted to say thanks again for the ride, and let you know we're going to be at Sid's this weekend, obviously.” He took a breath and tilted his head, eyes guarded. “You could come, if you wanted."
He left it at that, up to Jon.
"I have plans," Jon said, wishing he hadn't told Tom he'd go over to Dave's.
Spencer's face was unreadable. "Okay," he shrugged. "See you on Monday."
Jon was still staring blankly in the direction Spencer had gone when Brendon came up behind him, arms locking him in a hug.
"Hey," Jon said, smiling softly. "You ready?"
Brendon squeezed his arms tighter around Jon's middle and pressed his face to Jon's shoulder.
"Hey," Jon said softly, "you okay?" Jon tried to move so he could turn around and look at Brendon but Brendon held him still.
"Fine," Brendon mumbled against Jon's back. Jon finally got Brendon to step back enough that he could pull him against him in a real hug.
Jon wasn't going to complain, he liked Brendon's hugs, but he was uncharacteristically quiet.
“Hey,” Jon whispered against Brendon’s hair. “You know you can talk to me, right?”
Brendon didn’t say anything, and if held on a little tighter, Jon figured that was okay by him.
* * *
Tom dragged Jon to a movie with him and Holly, insisting it was important to help him get over Chelsea. “You’ve been in a shitty mood ever since she dumped you,” Tom said on the way to the theater. Jon didn’t bother correcting him.
Jon sat through a spectacularly awful action flick starring some muscle head who used to be a wrestler and did his best to drown out the sounds of Tom and Holly trying to swallow each other’s face next to him.
Tom tried to convince Jon to come smoke up at his house but Jon gave some sort of lame excuse and let Tom drop him at his house.
He was in a weird, restless mood. He climbed into his car and sat there in front of his house with the engine on and the radio off.
After a few minutes he dug out his phone and sent a quick text to Spencer before he could think better of it. “want to go for a drive?”
His palms were sweaty, he felt like he might throw up and still, there was nothing but relief when Spencer typed back less than a minute later with a simple “yes.”
Spencer was sitting on the front steps of his house when Jon pulled up.
“Let’s go to the beach,” Jon blurted, as soon as Spencer had climbed into the car.
He raised his eyebrows, eyes wide. “You can’t be serious. Now?”
Jon had no idea what he was doing. It was rainy, and cool, they both had curfew in an hour. Yet, all he wanted to do was go to the beach. Now. With Spencer.
Even in the dark, Jon could make out the quiet, speculative look on Spencer's face. "Okay," he said with a tilt of his head after a minute. "Give me a second." He got out of the car and Jon watched him walk slowly back into the house.
There were no less than three reasons this was a terrible idea. But Jon was feeling restless, he needed to get out. And he wanted Spencer with him.
Spencer was back a few minutes later.
"What'd your parents say?" Jon asked. Spencer was a good kid. Jon had no doubt Spencer had been in there letting him know not to expect him until late.
Spencer busied himself with pulling the seatbelt over his shoulder and securing it with a click that seemed loud in the small car. "Nothing. I told them I was staying at Ryan's house." Spencer's chin went up, shoulders back, daring Jon to say something.
"Okay," Jon said.
Jon couldn't decipher the tension in the car between them. Neither of them said much as Jon took highway 26 west towards the coast. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet, but there was something in the air between them that made Jon feel like he was holding his breath.
"Thanks," Jon said after a while. The car was warm, Spencer had his legs underneath him, his head back against the seat and Jon was feeling better than he had since he'd gone and fucked everything up.
Spencer turned, startled, to look at Jon. "For what?"
Jon took a second, blew out a breath, shrugged. "For this."
Spencer looked surprised but after a beat he said softly, "you're welcome.”
Jon drove on auto pilot out towards Canyon Beach and the small strip of public beach a few miles south of Rockaway. It was past eleven when he pulled the car into the empty parking lot.
Jon grabbed his hoodie and rain coat from the back seat. The rain had stopped and the wind had dried things off so that when Jon pulled his shoes and socks off, the sand was cool but dry beneath his toes.
Spencer was bundled up in a dark hooded sweatshirt that was a couple sizes too big for him. It made him look smaller, more vulnerable. He watched Jon take off his shoes for a beat before he followed, stuffing his socks into the pockets of his sweatshirt.
The Oregon coast, especially like this, at night, was Jon's favorite place to be, always. The moon was three quarters tonight, already high up in the sky. The clouds had dispersed enough that the moon shone bright on the water, illuminating the beach enough to see where they were headed.
"Wow," Spencer mumbled, stumbling over his own feet as they made their way down the slope towards the water. It was accidental, Jon could tell from the way Spencer's shoulders hunched that he hadn't meant to say anything.
"Yeah," Jon agreed.
They walked up the beach, a fair distance between the two of them, Jon's face lifted up towards the sky, head back, unable to take his eyes off the millions of tiny stars. He took a deep breath that he felt all the way down to his toes, and spread his arms. The wind whipped around them, the roar of the waves drowned everything else out and Jon just took it all in.
"You want to sit?" Jon asked eventually. They'd walked close to three miles along the water, small, modest houses to their left, the waves to their right. The readout on Jon’s phone said it was past midnight.
Spencer nodded and let Jon lead them to the dunes, where the sand was dry and brush rose up around them like a nest.
Jon leaned back on his elbows, burrowed his bare feet in the cool, dry sand and closed his eyes.
The wind whipped around them, not too cold but comforting in a way.
Jon used to come here with Brendon when they were little, both of them running headfirst toward the water, having forgotten since the last time how brutally cold it was, no matter the time of year.
It felt different with Spencer, sharing this place with him, this beach. It felt like something.
“I’m really, really sorry,” Jon said suddenly, surprising himself. He hadn’t meant to say anything, to bring it up again. Spencer seemed okay with letting it drop, the whole thing, and Jon had thought that was okay by him. But now, here at this place with Spencer, it didn’t feel like enough to just pretend he hadn’t been an asshole.
He opened his eyes when he felt Spencer shift, not away but closer, close enough that he could feel Spencer’s body heat.
“Jon,” Spencer said quietly. “Don’t.”
Jon struggled up off his elbows, leaning forward, wanting to make things right between them again.
Spencer cut off whatever it was Jon had been about to say, and whatever that was he wasn’t sure, touched Jon’s shoulder briefly.
“This, whatever it is that’s going on between us, and I know you feel it too, it’s huge. It’s intense. It makes sense that we freaked out.”
“You freaked out?” Jon mumbled a little hoarsely. Spencer’s eyes looked really weirdly light, intense.
Spencer rolled his eyes and grinned a little ruefully. “Ask Ryan about how I made him come over after you dropped me off that night.”
“I was such an asshole that morning, though.” Jon’s chest felt tight suddenly, like he couldn’t breathe.
“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, smiling a small, sad smile. “But I could have been a little more understanding, I think.”
“Don’t,” Jon said then, grabbing Spencer’s hand, curling his fingers around Spencer’s wrist. “Don’t be all forgiving and shit, I don’t deserve it.”
“Jon,” Spencer muttered, “shut up. If I want to be forgiving and shit, then I’m going to.”
Jon huffed, a startled laugh. He ran his thumb over the inside of Spencer’s palm, a little absently.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jon admitted suddenly. It seemed like the least he could do.
“We’re kind of a mess about this,” Spencer agreed, a mumbled jumble of sound. Jon hadn’t realized how close they were until Spencer dropped his head, forehead resting on Jon’s shoulder for a brief second before he seemed to realize it and moved to scoot away. Jon’s hand came up, palm flat to rest on Spencer’s back, reassure him that this was okay.
They fell asleep eventually, right there in the dunes, legs tangled for warmth, Jon’s fingers curled in Spencer’s.
* * *
A chill woke Jon. It took him a minute to get his bearings, last night coming back to him as he opened his eyes. It wasn't quite morning, a dim gray light had started to creep up. Jon was lying on his side, legs curled beneath him, hood pulled up over his hair. Spencer was in the same position, facing Jon, his mouth open in sleep.
His hair was swept off his forehead, his face completely relaxed, peaceful as he slept. Jon shivered as the wind picked up, sending a rush of cool air down the back of his sweatshirt. Spencer moved, curling closer towards Jon, looking for body heat.
Jon hesitated for a second before lifting his arm to wrap it around Spencer's shoulders, pulling him in until Spencer's legs were scissored between Jon's, the way they’d fallen asleep together.
Jon took a shaky breath and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, it was morning. It was cloudy, no sun around to make things warmer. Jon yawned and felt Spencer shift awake.
"Morning," Jon mumbled, sitting up slowly. There was a knot in the pit of his stomach. He'd deliberately ignored his parents' request that he call them, and he'd not only missed curfew, he'd stayed out all night. He was going to be in so much trouble.
"What?" Spencer said quietly, taking in Jon's frown.
"My parents," Jon grimaced. "They're going to kill me."
"Oh," Spencer said, "I'm sor-"
"I'm not," Jon said quickly, reaching out for Spencer before he could talk himself out of it. He closed his fingers around Spencer's wrist. "I'm not sorry."
Spencer had sleep marks on his skin, cheek red with the imprint from sleeping on the sand. He looked a hell of a lot younger than sixteen.
Jon curled his fingers around the back of Spencer’s neck and brought him forward. Spencer’s eyes widened, his hands came up, fingers curling in Jon’s sweatshirt. Jon didn’t kiss him, not right away. His stomach was flipping wildly, nerves over his parents, nerves over Spencer, anticipation. He rested his forehead against Spencer’s, closed his eyes and breathed.
He felt it when Spencer relaxed, felt him take a shaky breath and then another.
Jon rubbed his thumb in circles over the cool skin at the nape of Spencer’s neck, felt Spencer’s breathing change, shaky again.
Jon slid his fingers in Spencer’s hair and gently lifted his head, just enough that he could press his lips to Spencer’s.
Jon’s mouth was dry, his breath was probably not all that attractive, and Spencer’s lips were slightly chapped from the cool air. But Spencer smelled like the ocean, like whatever soap he used, and his breath hitched and it didn’t matter that it wasn’t perfect.
“No more freaking out,” Spencer said a little blearily when Jon pulled away.
“I can’t promise anything,” Jon admitted with a sheepish smile. He touched his thumb to the corner of Spencer’s mouth. “But I’ll try.”
* * *
Jon's parents were waiting when he walked through the front door. It was a little after seven, the roads covered in the kind of slick wetness that only happened in Portland after a steady rain. Jon was tired, he had a knot in his stomach that had nothing to do with what was waiting for him inside and yet, he couldn't stop the small smile every time he thought about Spencer, standing on his front porch in Jon's hoodie.
Jon's father was sitting in the old wooden arm chair near the window, staring stonily out towards the street, and his mother, still in her sweats, was pacing the length of the living.
Jon stood just inside the entryway, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched. His mother stopped her pacing when she saw him, her face impassive, but she hurried to him and gave him a quick hug.
"You are in so much trouble," she told him, pulling away.
Jon already knew that, but it sucked to hear it out loud, to see the anger on his dad's face, the worry and relief on his mother's.
"You're grounded for the week," his dad said, getting to his feet. He came over to where Jon was huddled. He clasped him on the shoulder. "And after that, you're curfew is ten o'clock on school nights, eleven on weekends." Jon bit his tongue against the groan. He'd had a feeling his curfew was going to take a major hit but this was worse.
His dad looked at him for a moment, and then let out a breath. "I'm glad you're okay. But if you ever make your mother worry like that, curfew is going to be the least of your worries."
"Yes, dad," Jon mumbled.
His parents let him go after that and Jon all but ran up the stairs to escape to his room. He was stuck in the house for the rest of the weekend and the thought made him thoroughly depressed. But he thought about Monday, about getting to see Spencer at school, and it didn't seem like such a big deal.
He took a fast shower, his entire body aching from sleeping on the sand and when he got out, he bundled into a sweatshirt that had belonged to one of his brothers once upon a time.
It was barely eight, Jon realized, checking his phone. He climbed into bed, thinking he'd sleep the day away, but thumbed through his phone book, clicking "send" when he reached Spencer's number.
"Hey," Spencer said, his voice sleepy sounding when he answered.
There was a flood of warmth clear through to his fingertips, hearing Spencer's voice like that, his guard down.
"Hi," Jon agreed, burrowing down beneath the blankets, tucking his phone against his ear. "Did I wake you?"
"Mm, no," Spencer mumbled, and Jon had a sudden urge to know what he looked like right now. "Are you okay? How much trouble are you in?"
"It's okay," Jon said a little ruefully. It wasn't like this was unexpected. He hadn't been thinking all that clearly last night, showing up at Spencer's house, driving an hour out to the beach, ignoring the nagging in the back of his brain telling him he should call his mom, take Spencer home.
"I'm grounded," he admitted and he could hear Spencer's sympathetic groan.
"Sorry," Spencer said and Jon smiled. "Not your fault, remember? I'm the idiot who kidnapped you.”
"Jon, still, that sucks a lot."
Jon agreed, if only because it meant he wouldn't get to see Spencer until Monday. Not that he was going to say that out loud, ever.
"If it makes you feel any better," Spencer said around a yawn, sounding sleepy and far away, "Ryan's pissed at me."
"What? Why?" Jon knew the answer to that, Ryan hated him.
"He thinks I shouldn't have lied to my parents," Spencer said quietly. There was a beat of silence on the other end and then Spencer said softly, "he's right. I've never lied to them. I've never had to."
"Spence," Jon started, feeling like an asshole. He hadn't thought any of this through, hadn't thought about what it would mean for Spencer, having Ryan cover for him, lying to his parents.
"Don't, Jon," Spencer mumbled, "it's okay. I knew what I was doing. I wanted to." He said the last part quietly, his voice trailing off to a whisper.
"I'm sorry you're grounded," Spencer said after a minute. "I was hoping you could come to Sid's."
Jon had been hoping, too. "Yeah, I know. But I'll pick you up on Monday before school," he said. "Uh, if that's okay," he added hurriedly.
"Yeah," Spencer whispered, cleared his throat, and said a little louder, "that'd be nice."
They talked for a few more minutes but it was clear they were both quickly losing speed, exhausted.
"Okay, I'll see you on Monday," Jon said, eyes closed, curling to his side.
"Jon," Spencer said suddenly, "call me, if you get bored or whatever."
Jon smiled and mumbled, "I will."
* * *
The weekend sucked. That was all there was to it. His parents weren't feeling particularly generous towards Jon, not that he blamed them, but still. He spent most of it in his room, doing his homework, talking on the phone with Brendon about his latest attempts with Ryan, texting with Tom.
He was counting the hours, he realized on Sunday evening. For the first time in his life, he was counting down the hours until the weekend was over. It was Spencer's fault. He'd decided sometime that afternoon, lying on his back in his bed, his hand down his underwear, that everything that was crazy in his life was Spencer's fault. He'd jerked off five times over the weekend, every time thinking about Spencer. The first few times had started with the old standby fantasy he'd always jerked off to, the pretty redheaded girl giving way to Spencer's face as he was getting close. By the third time, he'd given up pretending and started off thinking of Spencer's pink lips, the shape of his ass in those ridiculous black jeans he loved, the way his t-shirt rode up his belly. He always came the hardest remembering that night a few weeks ago, the feel of Spencer hovering over him, the way his lips had tasted, the soft noises he'd made.
In short, Jon was screwed and it was Spencer's fault. But he wasn't that upset about it anymore, not when he thought about the alternative, not having Spencer. Not that he had Spencer, not that he wanted to have Spencer.
* * *
The week after the beach, Jon was at Spencer's house every morning at 7:45, waiting at the curb for him. He hadn't intended it to become a thing, giving Spencer a ride. But Monday morning when he showed up, Spencer came out of the house with his hair wet, his cheeks pink, smiling a crooked smile like he was happy to see Jon, it just sort of seemed natural to show up again on Tuesday. By Friday, when he pulled into Spencer's driveway, idling and waiting, he realized he'd spent the whole week looking forward to the mornings, to Spencer.
"You know," Spencer said when he'd climbed into the front seat and was buckling himself in, "you don't have to give me a ride to school." He was looking at Jon with a crooked eyebrow and a tilt of his head. "Not that I don't love you for it," he said, mouth curving in a soft smile and turning to stare out the window. Jon watched his profile and noticed the pink flush on Spencer's cheeks.
"I like it," Jon blurted before he could bite his lip.
Spencer turned his head. "Okay," he said with a small smile. "I do too."
School was still a drag. Jon hated first period chemistry as much as ever but now there were texts from Spencer to keep him from dying of boredom, Jon bent over his desk in the back row, Heffler obliviously rambling on. And break after second period meant Brendon and Spencer were waiting for him at the stairs in the language hall, heads bent together talking about something and they'd look up almost in unison, smiling, Brendon with his bright, beautiful beam, and Spencer with his softer, smaller smile that he only ever smiled for Jon.
Being grounded meant he went from school to work and from work straight home. No hanging out at Tom's or going to Council Crest, or giving Spencer or Brendon a ride home. By the end of the week he was ready for the punishment to be over.
If he had to be grounded for a week, it was decent timing that his punishment was up before the coming weekend, the weekend before Halloween.
"There's a huge party at Ben's," Jon told Spencer at lunch on Friday. They were in the cafeteria, a group of tables in the corner. Tom and Holly were making out and Jon was studiously ignoring them. Chelsea had started eating lunch with her soccer team. Jon felt like an asshole about that, but he wasn't sorry he'd ended things.
Spencer gave him a quirk of his lips that was all cynicism. "Jon," he said, a little bit of exasperation in his voice. "I don't think so."
"Me and Ryan are going," Brendon said suddenly, perking up. He had his leg draped over Ryan's lap. Ryan seemed completely oblivious, head bent over a book. He looked up when he heard his name. "No we're not," he said, jaw set.
"We are," Brendon nodded, pushing his fingers through Ryan's hair. "You'll like it, it's a Halloween party, Ryan," Brendon said like that made all the difference in the world. Ryan ignored him and bent his head back over his book.
"Okay," Jon said, running over options in his head. He didn't think he'd ever get Spencer to one of these parties. But he wasn't going to go without him, which was a huge issue Jon didn't want to think about ever, since it said way too much about his investment in Spencer.
"So," Jon said, voice pitched low for Spencer's ears only. "We could see a movie."
Spencer's eyes widened and the pink that was usually the only sign of Spencer's feelings on a particular subject crept down his throat, disappearing beneath the vee of his t-shirt. Not that Jon noticed.
"Yeah? Really?" Spencer looked pleased, and maybe a little like he didn't believe Jon.
If they'd been alone, instead of in a high school cafeteria, surrounded by people, Jon might have touched Spencer's hand. As it was, though no one was paying them any attention, Jon was hyper aware of how not alone they were.
"Yeah," Jon smiled. "We can grab something to eat, go see a movie. If you want."
Spencer looked so surprised, so completely content that Jon could think only of how much he suddenly wanted to kiss Spencer, pull him into his lap and kiss the surprise off his face.
"I want," Spencer said quietly, bending his head back over his lunch like it was the most important thing. The back of his neck was pink and Jon curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to see if it was as warm, as soft, as it looked.
It took Jon a second to realize that Brendon was watching him with an unreadable look on his face.
"What?" Jon said quietly, trying to keep the defensiveness out.
Brendon shrugged. "Nothing," he said, but it was so much more than nothing judging by the guard Jon watched come up.
"B," Jon muttered under his breath, not wanting to start anything but he fucking hated the way Brendon did that lately, closing in on himself in a way Jon had never seen before these last few weeks.
Brendon didn't budge and Jon grit his teeth. They'd talk about it eventually, they always did, but for now it was bugging the hell out of Jon.
* * *
Jon picked Spencer up a little after seven. He even parked his car in the driveway and went up the front steps, knocked on the door, and let Spencer's parents usher him in.
"Hello," Mrs. Smith said warmly, holding her hand out for Jon to shake. "It's nice to finally meet you. Thank you for giving Spencer a ride to school so often."
Jon shook her hand, and then Mr. Smith's. "I don't mind," Jon said with a shrug, hoping it didn't look like he was sweating from nerves and butterflies in his stomach.
"We're pleased Spencer is meeting so many new friends," his mother said and Jon knew then that she and her husband had no clue that her son and he were edging towards being so much more than that. He'd have felt vaguely guilty about that but Spencer came out of the kitchen then, wiping his hands on his jeans.
"Mom," Spencer said with a roll of his eyes. "Lay off the third degree please. Jon's a good guy."
“I wasn’t interrogating him, Spencer,” Mrs Smith said, pushing Spencer’s bangs off his forehead. “I was just telling him we’re glad you’re making new friends.”
Spencer looked horrified. He made an apologetic, embarrassed face at Jon. Jon bit his lip against a laugh.
“Okay, we’re going now before you cause any more damage,” Spencer said with a grimace.
“Home by eleven, Spencer,” Mr. Smith called from the front porch, as Jon and Spencer climbed into Jon’s car.
“Oh god, sorry,” Spencer muttered, “my parents are a little overprotective.”
"What do you want to see?" Jon asked as he turned onto East Burnside, heading over to Lloyd Center.
"Ryan told me about this German documentary that's playing this weekend," Spencer said with a shrug. Jon turned and made a horrified face at Spencer who tilted his head back and laughed. "Or," he said, grinning, "we could see that Will Ferrell movie that's playing."
"Thank you," Jon mumbled, giving Spencer a smile he hoped came off as charming. It seemed to work since Spencer looked away, ducking his head and biting his lip in a disarming, adorable way that made Jon narrowly miss running a red light.
"Shit," Jon muttered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel. It wasn't as though this was new, the effect Spencer had on him. But it took him by surprise occasionally. And there was the fact that Jon still wasn't all that comfortable with it.
The lot at the theater was packed, with Friday night movie goers and people taking the Max downtown. They walked across the huge lot, the wind picking up and making it suddenly a lot cooler than it had been in the last few months.
"Did Brendon convince Ryan to go to the party?" Jon asked as they walked, his hands tucked into his pockets to keep from reaching out and grabbing Spencer's hand, an impulse he'd never had when dating girls.
Spencer laughed then, an abrupt, amused sound. "Yes, and I had to hear an hour's worth of bitching about Brendon's persistence. I even walked over to Ryan's and helped him pick out a costume."
Jon grinned to himself. Jon had gotten away with saying no to Brendon once, and even that didn't really count since Brendon had been drunk at the time and halfway to passing out. Ryan didn't stand a chance.
"At least there's bound to be some stories tomorrow," Jon said, catching Spencer's eye and smiling at the thought. He was pretty sure an infatuated Brendon, alcohol and Ryan were not a good combination.
"Or we might have to do damage control," Spencer said with a wry tilt of his lips. "You don't know Ryan, and I'm a little worried Brendon's perfect for him."
Jon didn't ask for clarification. He knew exactly what Spencer meant.
When they got to the ticket window, Jon didn't offer to pay for Spencer's ticket, though he'd argued with himself about it on the drive to Spencer's house. He was afraid it might mean exactly what he wanted it to mean so he kept his mouth shut and let Spencer buy his own ticket.
"Do you want to share popcorn?" Jon couldn't help asking, thinking he liked the idea.
They were being pushed along the crowded lobby by the swell of people and Spencer seemed to stumble, tripping on the carpet. Jon raised his eyebrow and Spencer nudged him with an elbow in the stomach and told him to shut up.
"I didn't realize you were so graceful," Jon told him, using Spencer's lack of balance as an excuse to put a hand on his lower back, however briefly.
Spencer scowled, forehead furrowing adorably and said, "for that, I'm making you buy the popcorn. And you have to buy me Red Vines."
Jon found himself thinking he'd buy Spencer any damn thing he wanted, so long as he looked at Jon like that, pink lips and big, smiling eyes.
"What's going on with your family for Thanksgiving?" Jon asked while they waited in the interminable concession line.
"We're going to Las Vegas to see my grandparents," Spencer said with a shrug, looking like the idea depressed him. "You?"
"We drive up to Seattle every year," Jon said, taking a step as the line inched forward.
"God I'm jealous. I love Seattle," Spencer said with a noise that sounded like half a sigh, half a groan.
Jon bumped Spencer with his hip. "Yes, but Vegas has all that ... gambling?" Jon said with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders, coming up with nothing.
"I don't know why I like you," Spencer said with a sad shake of his head. Jon went completely still, eyes frozen on Spencer's face.
Spencer blanched immediately as what he'd said sunk in. "Oh god," he mumbled, looking down at the carpet. When he looked up again, he gave Jon a small smile.
They hadn’t so much as touched, really, since the beach, let alone kiss. They hadn’t talked about it, but there was some unspoken agreement that they were going to let things happen.
Jon bent his head, brushed his lips against Spencer’s ear and said, “it’s okay, I like you too.”
When he pulled back Spencer was looking at him, eyes huge, cheeks pink.
Jon gave him a reassuring smile and pulled him towards the theater.
* * *
"Hey, so," Spencer said quickly, rushed. "Can I ask you a question?"
Jon swallowed and tried to look nonchalant. "Sure," he nodded.
Spencer licked his lower lip, Jon watched the tip of his tongue slide along to the corner of his mouth and Jon's palms itched, his own mouth suddenly dry. He dragged his eyes back up. Spencer looked flushed.
"Was this a date?" Spencer blurted. His chin came up a fraction of an inch and his eyes never left Jon's.
Jon wanted to kiss Spencer, for a million reasons; so he wouldn't have to answer Spencer's question, so he wouldn't have to think about what he wanted the answer to be, to see if he could taste the candy on Spencer's tongue. But he knew the answer. He'd known the second he'd decided to ditch a party with his best friends and come see a lame movie on Halloween weekend with a guy he hadn’t stopped thinking about since they’d met.
"Yes, if you want it to be," Jon said quietly, resisting the urge to hold his breath.
“Oh,” Spencer said, clearly not expecting that answer. “Good,” he breathed, and slid across the seat, pushing his hand into Jon’s hair.
[ end ]
Edit: Some thoughts about the way this ended