Get Up and Shake the Glitter Off Your Clothes (Brendon/Spencer) 2/5
Back to Part 1.
It feels strange to be welcoming Brendon’s parents into what is, technically, Spencer and Brendon’s home together.
Brendon’s mom presses a kiss to Spencer’s cheek as he greets her, and Brendon’s dad gives him a small but friendly smile. Spencer can’t help but think of the first time he’d met them, tense and suspicious when a teenage Spencer had mistakenly rang the doorbell when picking Brendon up for practice instead of waiting around the corner like Brendon had asked him to.
“You have a lovely home,” Brendon’s mom tells Spencer as they walk into the lounge, and even though Spencer’s done nothing but rush around and tidy up after Brendon and Shane as best he can, he feels a surge of pride at her approval.
“Thank you,” he says and smiles. There’s a long, awkward moment as they all stand around. “Um, please sit down?” Spencer suggests, waving his hand towards the sofa and feeling like some sort of bizarre talk show host.
They do, and Spencer sits opposite them in an armchair. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Brendon hesitate for a moment, before walking over and sitting on the arm of Spencer’s chair.
Spencer looks up at him and smiles. Brendon rests his hand on Spencer’s shoulder to steady himself when he leans forward too sharply.
When Spencer looks over, Brendon’s parents are exchanging a look. He has a brief moment of worry, but it doesn’t seem to be a suspicious look, so he lets himself relax.
No one speaks for a long moment. Brendon clears his throat into the silence and then says, “Shane’s sorry he couldn’t be here. He’s visiting a friend this weekend.”
Brendon’s mom looks surprised. “Shane still lives here? With you both?”
Brendon shrugs and she frowns a little, confused.
“But this is your first marital home!” she says. “Surely you want to be alone, together.”
Brendon glances down at Spencer who pulls on his calm, deal-with-the-press smile. “It’s hardly fair of us to expect Shane to move out so quickly, when we sprung the marriage thing on him like we did. We’re happy to have him here until he’s able to find the perfect place to stay.”
Brendon’s dad nods, as if Spencer’s diplomatic answer is what he wanted to hear, and Spencer is about to inwardly sigh in relief when Brendon’s mom asks, “Shane didn’t know about the wedding either?”
Spencer looks up at Brendon.
“Um, no, well, you see, we…” Brendon trails off, jiggling his knee nervously. He waves his hand about and then guides it towards his mouth. Spencer’s certain he’s about to bite his fingernails off again, a habit that drives Spencer mad and only seems to surface whenever Brendon is nervous. So he reaches out and takes Brendon’s hand, pulling it down to tuck between his thigh and the arm of the chair.
“No one knew,” Spencer says, and marvels at how much easier the truth rolls off his tongue. “It was a spur of the moment decision. I know that probably sounds bad but at the time it made sense. We wanted to be together, and the chapel was there and it seemed…romantic.”
When he looks up, Brendon is staring down at him with a soft, happy look on his face, and Spencer wonders if that’s how it was, if somewhere in their drunken haze they’d recognised romance and something they didn’t notice when sober. It had obviously been enough to make it seem like a good idea and Spencer wishes he could remember that night. He’s had snatches of memory come back- holding a glass full of ice and alcohol, holding a full house during a tense round of poker, holding Brendon’s hot, sweaty hand tightly in his- but nowhere near enough pieces to solve the puzzle of how they ended up married and sprawled across a motel bed.
Brendon leans in towards Spencer a little, and for a crazy moment Spencer thinks he’s going to kiss him. But it’s more than that- there’s a part of Spencer that wants Brendon to kiss him and he’s not entirely sure where these thoughts are coming from, out of the blue like this. He wonders if he’s getting swept up in the whole charade, the show they’re putting on for Brendon’s family. Spencer’s heard about getting into a role, but he doesn’t think he’s that good an actor. Brendon though, Brendon is that good an actor and it reminds Spencer how important it is for Brendon that this goes smoothly.
He lifts his chin and Brendon leans in even closer, eyes trained on Spencer’s face, smiling a little.
A distant, insistent beeping fills the air and Spencer jumps out of his seat, almost sending Brendon flying. He reaches out to steady Brendon.
“Dinner!” he exclaims. “I should go and check on it.”
“You cooked?” Brendon’s dad asks, and Spencer nods.
“It’s just a casserole. Nothing spectacular,” he says modestly, as if he hadn’t spent longer than he’d care to admit cooking earlier in the day.
Brendon’s mom gives Spencer an approving look and it makes him think of back when Brendon had gotten ridiculously skinny and Spencer had nagged and nagged him to eat and look after himself. Brendon had rolled his eyes and sighed and said “That is exactly what my mom said the last time she saw me,” but he’d eaten the grilled cheese sandwich Spencer had made for him without argument.
“I should go and finish,” Spencer says, and flees into the kitchen.
The door swings shut behind him just after he hears Brendon’s mom say, “So, tell us all about the ceremony.”
Hearing Brendon’s flustered reply, Spencer’s pretty sure he’s made a lucky escape, but the conversation continues over dinner. Brendon seems to be getting into the spirit of storytelling, expanding more than he should. Spencer kicks him under the table whenever he gets too ludicrous (doves did not place the ring on Spencer’s finger- in fact they don’t have rings and Spencer wonders if that’s something they should organise or whether that’s taking the whole marriage of convenience thing too far) but between them they concoct a simple story of a brief but beautiful wedding ceremony.
Brendon’s parents seem to be accepting, both of the story and of Spencer, and Spencer finds himself starting to relax around them.
After dinner, Brendon’s mom helps Spencer with the dishes while Brendon shows his dad a stack of vinyl records they’d found in a dusty music store around the corner from their house.
Spencer washes, letting the dishes drain on the side while he finishes. Before he can pick up a dishcloth, Brendon’s mom reaches over and starts drying off the glasses. Spencer puts them away, and they carry on a steady stream of conversation about how he’d gotten the recipe for dinner from watching the food network.
“Before you were married,” Brendon’s mom says, when there’s a lull in the conversation, handing Spencer a now-dry plate to put away. “Were you…together for long?”
Spencer frowns a little as he puts the plate away in the cupboard. “Well, I mean, I’ve known Brendon since we were 15,” he says. “You know that.”
He’s rather proud of himself for keeping the accusatory tone out of his voice, the reminder of Brendon turning up on his doorstep looking broken and saying “I had to leave”, or all the nights, after Brendon had gotten his own place, when Spencer’s mom would prod Spencer to phone him, invite him round for dinner, since that was the only way they’d know that Brendon was eating right.
Brendon’s mom gives him a sharp look. “Yes, but you weren’t…” she waves her hand at Spencer then back towards the living room, where Brendon is entertaining his father with the more PG-rated stories from the last tour, “together then,” she finishes, and Spencer catches on.
He shakes his head quickly. “Oh, oh no. No no. Not then. No. Definitely not. Nope. We’ve not been together like, uh, like this for that long, honestly. But we’ve been good friends for a long time. So…yeah.”
Brendon’s mom nods and hands him another plate. “And were you acting as man and…ahem, I mean, a married couple before you were married?”
The plate’s still a bit damp and it slips from Spencer’s fingers. He manages to catch it before it hits the counter, and he places it in the cupboard quickly.
“Um, you mean…”
“Relations,” she clarifies, looking as uncomfortable as Spencer feels. “Did the two of you-“
“Oh!” Spencer blurts. “No! God no! I mean, no ma’am. We did not.” He wonders what she’d say if she knew they weren’t having ‘relations’ now, not in this strange sham-but-maybe-not-sham-in-the-back-of-Spencer’s-mind marriage they have going on.
She stares at him a moment too long, as if checking to see if he’s lying, but eventually she nods, satisfied he’s telling the truth. She reaches up and pats his cheek lightly.
“You’re a good boy,” she says, then corrects herself. “Man, I mean. You’re good for Brendon. You make him happy. That’s all we want for our son.”
“Me too,” Spencer says, and he means it. He’s always meant it, but he means it more now. He’s not sure why. He’s always felt protective over Brendon, over his whole band, but lately, since that day they’d woken up in Vegas, he’s felt it even more.
Spencer figures he’s somehow buying into some archaic stereotype of how a husband should act, how he should care for his…well, in this case, husband because Brendon would probably punch him if he called Brendon his wife. But it’s nice too, to be there to provide and care for someone, and to know they want you to do it. It’s the role Spencer’s always played, always liked playing. It feels comfortable, and it feels right being with Brendon all the time too.
Spencer realises he’s really content, right now. It makes him smile, and Brendon’s mom smiles back.
They finish the dishes and go into the living room, where Brendon’s dad challenges them to a couples game of Scrabble. Spencer makes sure to let the Urie’s win, which makes Brendon pout.
Spencer reaches over and squeezes Brendon’s knee, just lightly, and Brendon smiles at him and puts his hand over Spencer’s.
Later, when he’s packing away the tiles, Spencer catches Brendon’s dad watching him. He looks up and Brendon’s dad nods, just once, but it’s approving. And Spencer can’t help but enjoy the surge of happiness the acceptance gives him.
The next morning they take Brendon’s parents out for brunch, and spend the rest of the day wandering around tiny stores in their neighbourhood, until Brendon and his dad start to tire of shopping and find an excuse to go back home.
“You can go back too,” Brendon’s mom says to Spencer. “I don’t get to look at these fancy LA boutiques often, so I’ll be alright on my own if you’re bored.”
Spencer gives her a scandalised look. “Are you kidding me? They sell shoes here. I can’t leave until I’ve bought something.”
Brendon’s mom laughs and asks Spencer what he thinks of a blouse she likes. Spencer’s just relieved it’s not ugly and he doesn’t have to lie.
“They seem to believe it,” Brendon says that night when they’re lying in darkness. “I can’t believe we’re getting away with this. Thanks for playing along.”
Spencer shrugs even though Brendon can’t see him. “It’s not like it’s a hardship,” he points out, and smiles when Brendon’s ankle brushes his.
The next morning he wakes up with a warm weight lying across his chest. He cracks his eyes open and blinks down at where Brendon’s head is on his shoulder, one arm slung across Spencer’s chest. It’s not the first time he’s woken up like this- Brendon is as tactile in sleep as he is when awake- but it’s the first time Spencer stays where he is and just enjoys the nearness of another person.
He closes his eyes and is about to doze back off, when there’s a light tap at their bedroom door.
“Boys? I’m making breakfast. Just wanted to check how many pancakes you wanted.”
Spencer opens his eyes and lifts his head in time to see Brendon’s mom smiling at them from the doorway. He imagines it must paint a pretty scene, Brendon’s arm wrapped around Spencer in his sleep.
“I’ll leave you both to sleep a bit longer then,” Brendon’s mom says, in a hushed voice. She gives her son a fond smile and then directs it at Spencer, before softly closing the door.
When Brendon wakes up, Spencer tells him all about it, and Brendon seems a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” he says, shrugging into a clean shirt.
Spencer’s not sure what Brendon’s sorry about. If anything it was a clever tactic. Brendon’s parents are friendlier than ever to Spencer, hugging him goodbye before they set off on the drive home, making them promise to visit soon.
“That went well,” Spencer says. Brendon nods and doesn’t say anything, except to challenge Spencer to a game of Mario Kart.
Spencer doesn’t think about their sleeping arrangement until late that night when he pauses in the doorway of the spare room. It really is a minty green they’ve somehow chosen, and Spencer doesn’t like it at all.
“I’m staying in here tonight,” Spencer says, walking into Brendon’s room. Brendon doesn’t complain as Spencer gets into bed beside him, like he’s been doing for the past week. “I hate moving,” he reminds Brendon and Brendon laughs. “And we need to redecorate. Again.”
He means to buy new paint the next day, to start moving his things back into the other room, but he doesn’t get around to either. He forgets the next day too, and the next day, until Brendon shrugs and says “why don’t you just live in here?” like it makes perfect sense.
Spencer’s unsure but Brendon points out that if they have other guests come and stay, they’ll have a readily available room for them, that Spencer wouldn’t have to move, that Brendon has his own bathroom so it’s nice and convenient, that married couples usually share a room anyway and that it’s no different than having to share a bed when they’re on tour.
Spencer doesn’t argue with any of Brendon’s points and Brendon’s room becomes their room and it doesn’t seem that weird at all. Most of the time it’s just like being on tour, living in each others pockets but better because they’re not cramped up in tiny claustrophobic bunks. It’s not like they have any secrets from each other either- they’ve known each other long enough that any weird or unusual habits are well known and Brendon’s fondness for pantsless Wednesdays on tour means there’s very little to be awkward about when they’re sharing each others spaces.
Except, of course, for jerking off. Spencer has to plan his jerking off for times when he knows Brendon won’t be around. He can barely bring himself to do it during his morning shower, since he’s sure that Brendon’s thinking that’s what he’s doing in there. That makes it weird somehow, probably because Spencer lies in bed most mornings listening to the sound of water running in the bathroom and wonders if Brendon is jerking off, forehead pressed against the cool tile and eyes clenched shut to keep the soap out of his eyes.
Spencer doesn’t think about how it’s weird they don’t tease each other about it, when they would have done before. A rustle of bedclothes and muffled gasp in the bunks had been enough for hours of good natured teasing on the buses, and it had been a main topic of conversation during the early days, recording the album and sharing shitty motel rooms and sleeping in the back of a dirty van. Now though, something’s different, something’s changed, and Spencer tries not to think about whether it’s more than just that piece of paper that’s changed them.
Brendon jumps up guiltily when Spencer wanders into the living room one day, intent on walking into the kitchen and hanging up his keys by the back door.
“Spence!” Brendon exclaims, voice a little too high, a stain of red on both his cheeks. Spencer’s not sure what’s going on until he glances across at the TV and sees the pay-per-view porn menu.
Spencer rolls his eyes. “Wow, Bren, no need to freak out. It’s not like I haven’t caught you looking at porn before.”
He tries not to think about that time in the dingy motel, right when they were first starting out. He and Brent had stumbled in, tired and ready for showers and bed, to find Brendon with his hand in his pants, gazing at some late night erotica movie he’d found on one of the cable channels. All he remembers is the way the light from the TV in the darkened room had lit Brendon’s face, how red his lips had been, how still his arm had gone, and how incessant Brent’s teasing had been. And how much Ryan had shouted when he’d found out and thought Brendon was watching stuff they couldn’t afford to pay for.
Brendon ducks his head, laughing, and then shakes it. “It’s different now,” he says, and Spencer’s not sure what he means until Brendon waves a hand between them and says, “Married, remember?”
Spencer chuckles. “Married couples watch porn all the time,” he points out.
“Yeah, together maybe,” Brendon shrugs.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not true,” Spencer says. “I don’t care if you watch porn, Brendon. It’s not like…you know.” Not like they’re a real couple, he means and he’s beginning to realise that that doesn’t necessarily mean anything to Brendon. He’s taken the whole marriage vows thing a lot more seriously than Spencer expected, considering he can’t remember making them.
Brendon makes a face.
“You know,” Spencer says. “I think I’m going to go for a drive.” He twirls his keys on his finger and turns to head back out the door.
“What’re you doing?”
Spencer glances back. “Leaving you alone so you can…” he mimes jacking off and Brendon flips him off. It makes Spencer grin as he heads out the door.
He gets into the car and drives to a Starbucks that’s a good thirty minute drive away in decent traffic (and hates himself, just a little, for knowing its location), takes his time over his orange mocha frappuccino, orders the same thing for Brendon even though it’ll have melted by the time he gets back, and heads home.
Brendon is still sitting on the couch when Spencer walks in. He hands over the melted drink and makes a joking face at the remote Brendon’s using to systematically flick through the channels.
“Hope you washed your hand, dude,” he says, and Brendon pauses and glances up at him.
The channel is part of the way through an episode of Murder, She Wrote, and it’s a bizarre backdrop to Brendon saying, “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t jerk off. It felt wrong.”
Spencer sits down beside him. “Wrong?” he asks, and Brendon nods.
“We’re married,” he says, a little miserably which Spencer tries not to take personally. “And I’d always had these expectations, of marriage, of what you should and shouldn’t do, how you respect your partner. And I know it’s stupid, but it feels like I’m cheating on you if I’m watching porn on my own.”
Spencer doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Brendon…you know that you can actually cheat on me and it’d be okay, right?”
Brendon shakes his head. “No! I vowed to be faithful!”
“You don’t know what you vowed. Neither do I. I don’t…I don’t expect you to follow any of those vows to the letter anyway.”
Brendon sighs. “You don’t understand. I’ve not done a lot of things right, in my life. I’ve gone against most of what I was raised to believe, hurt my family and myself and my friends and I’m trying to do something right, for once. Because even if this isn’t what I’d planned, I want to do it properly.”
Spencer frowns at him. “And what happens when, down the line, you fall in love with someone? Or I fall in love with someone? And we have to get that divorce, or just pretend this never happened at all?”
“I don’t know,” Brendon shrugs. “But that’s then. This is now and I am going to do it as best I can. So I’m not going to fuck anyone. And I’m not going to sit here and watch porn on my own.”
Spencer wants to ask what will happen if Spencer wants to fuck someone or watch porn on his own. But he doesn’t. Instead he finds himself saying, “fucking hell, do you want me to watch with you? Will that make you feel better?”
Brendon’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Uh, you mean…”
“I don’t mean do you want to pull your dick out and jack off while I sit here doing the same thing,” Spencer rolls his eyes and pushes the image that conjures up out of his mind. “I mean, we’ll watch your porno, you can store the images up for later and then…well, that’s not so bad, right?”
Brendon’s head tips to the side as he considers. “Okay,” he says finally, and pops a straw into the drink Spencer had brought him. He takes a long, noisy sip of watery milk and picks up the remote again, silencing Jessica Fletcher’s musings.
Spencer stretches out his legs and rests his head against the back of the sofa. This they’ve done before, all of them. Him and Brendon and Jon and Ryan, Eric and Zack and Shane and some of the techs and whoever else was on tour with them, hanging out in the bus and laughing at some porn that someone had brought on board. It was a normal guy thing to do, and there was nothing weird about it.
A loud moan of “Oh, yeah baby,” from the vicinity of the TV drags Spencer’s attention to the screen, where a girl with scarily long nails is writhing and moaning as an over-bronzed dude with muscles pounds into her.
“Brendon,” Spencer says after a moment, and Brendon looks worried when he glances over.
“Yeah?”
“Why are we watching some chick getting banged?”
Brendon stares at him for a moment. “Because you said you’d watch porn with me?” he says it like it’s a question and Spencer sighs.
“Is this what you were going to watch?” he asks, and Brendon hesitates before shaking his head.
“Then put that on,” Spencer tells him, but Brendon pauses with his thumb over the button on the remote.
“You realise I was going to watch some gay porn, right?” Brendon says and Spencer laughs.
“Colour me completely unsurprised. Just put it on.”
“But you-“
“Like guy-on-guy action as much as I like guy-on-girl,” Spencer answers and fixes his eyes on the screen until Brendon changes it. He can feel Brendon’s gaze on him and it’s making his neck flush read.
“What?” he demands, as the two guys now on screen start peeling each others clothes off.
“I…I didn’t know,” Brendon says. His voice is light and curious and something else that Spencer might have thought was nervousness if he didn’t know Brendon better and if that made any sense at all.
Spencer shrugs. “Yeah. Well. Not many people do.”
“Oh,” Brendon says, and Spencer thinks that nervousness is disguised hurt, at not being told, when he says, “Ryan?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. Of course Ryan knows, probably knew before Spencer had, knowing him.
Neither of them say anything else, just turn their attention back to the film. Spencer tries to concentrate but Brendon’s never been a quiet guy, and every so often there’s a slight gasp that escapes his lips, or he’ll shift his body, just a little, rearranging his hips and jeans for more or less friction (Spencer’s not sure which, not sure which he’d prefer right now, either). There’s a good two feet of space between them, on the sofa, but Spencer is painfully aware of Brendon’s presence as every slight movement makes the cushions shift, just a little bit.
When the movie is over, Spencer wipes his damp palms on the knees of his jeans and slides his eyes towards Brendon who lifts the remote and switches the TV off. His hand is a little shaky and Spencer curses himself for being an idiot and not thinking about this part, not planning ahead to the inevitable moment where they’d be so hard- from the porn, obviously- that they’d have to deal with it.
“Um,” Brendon says awkwardly. Spencer looks up and meets Brendon’s eyes. They stare at each other for a moment, then Brendon is up and out of the sofa and running up the stairs. Spencer hears their bedroom door close. After a moment the sound of distant running water tells him Brendon is in the shower and so he unbuttons his jeans, just enough to get his hand inside.
He tries to think back about what they’d just watched, but instead he can’t help but think about Brendon lifting up his face as the water beats down on him, jerking himself off frantically. It’s enough that Spencer’s barely gotten in a full stroke before he’s coming, biting his bottom lip with his eyes closed, the images burned onto the inside of his eyelids until his heart starts to beat normally again and he remembers how to breathe.
Spencer’s legs are unsteady when he gets to his feet and goes to clean himself up. He can hear the faint sound of Brendon singing, which tells him two things- that Brendon is finished jerking off, and that he’s happy.
Spencer’s happy too, as fucked up as that sounds, as fucked up as the situation is, as fucked up as Spencer is, coming at the thought of his friend/band mate/accidental husband getting off in the shower. Spencer does what he’s good at and files those thoughts away carefully, to freak out about on another day, and goes to make dinner.
When Brendon emerges his hair is damp and he’s smiling. He coos happily over the plate of spaghetti Spencer sets in front of him and they talk about a song Brendon’s working on and whether they need to get Boba a new leash since she’s almost chewed through the current one, and when Ryan will stop insisting on wearing that horrible shirt he’s currently in love with. Just like normal, as if nothing weird happened.
They do it again, three more times before they finish making the demos and go out on tour. Spencer stops thinking anything of it, stops berating himself for thinking about what Brendon’s doing, instead of whatever they’ve just watched, when he has his dick in his hand afterwards.
~~~
Now that Ryan lives in LA too, it makes sense for them to get together and record the demos and practice out there. Jon flies in and stays with Ryan, which puts Spencer’s mind at ease a little since Jon is bound to make sure the electricity stays on to ensure he’ll always have cold beer at least.
They decide to play in Brendon’s music room, mostly, since the fridge there is always well stocked and Ryan still hasn’t unpacked half his shit. Ryan brings Jon round on the first morning and they spend a few hours jamming before someone suggests smoking up and they lounge around for awhile.
Jon rolls his head to the side and smiles at Spencer. “How d’you like living in LA?” he asks and Spencer shrugs.
“I like it here” he says, full of emphasis, and Brendon turns and beams at Spencer, and rests his head against Spencer’s shoulder. He taps out a little tune on the mini keyboard in his lap and Ryan perks up.
“Play that again,” he commands. Brendon does and Ryan reaches for his guitar and they’re back into the music again.
That night, when they’ve put the instruments to the side and eaten too much take out and drank too much beer and smoked too much weed, they sprawl out on the floor. They pass several pleasant hours by playing the ‘hey, remember that time when…’ game and laughing a lot.
Eventually Brendon yawns and stretches, spine cracking.
“Bed,” he announces, and gets to his knees. He leans over Spencer, who is staring at the tiny crack in one corner of the ceiling, a thin black line weaving aimlessly across the plaster. “You coming?” Brendon asks and offers a hand to help him Spencer sit up.
Spencer shakes his head and lets Brendon’s hand go. “In a minute,” he says, glancing at the mess strewn around them. “Gonna clean up a little.”
Brendon laughs and presses a kiss between Spencer’s eyes. “I’ve got the best little housewife in the world,” he says to Ryan and Jon, and climbs to his feet. “Don’t be long,” he adds. “Else I’ll be fast asleep, sprawled across the whole bed and you’ll have to sleep on the floor.”
Spencer snorts. “Yeah, that’ll happen,” he says and gets to his feet. He follows Brendon out of the room, and goes to find a garbage bag. When he returns, Jon is frowning slightly.
“You two are sharing a bed now?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Spencer replies, picking up empty beer bottles and putting them together for recycling in the morning. “When his parents visited…it made sense. Avoided awkward questions.”
“Avoided them?” Jon sounds surprised.
Spencer nods and folds up a pizza box. “Not sure how we’d explain to them why a married couple aren’t sharing a bed.”
“Married couple,” Jon repeats, and it’s Spencer’s turn to frown.
“Yeah. We told you about it. You were there Jon. You pissed yourself laughing and then I made you help me load that stupid hire van with my shit.”
Jon glances across at Ryan, who is picking invisible dirt off the sleeve of his shirt and not looking at anyone.
Jon laughs, a little nervously. “But it’s a joke. It’s all a joke. You guys don’t have to live like this. You weren’t supposed to-”
“Do you need a hand, Spence?” Ryan interrupts loudly. He shoots Jon a look that Spencer doesn’t quite understand and Jon folds his arms across his chest and looks confused.
“This works for us,” Spencer explains, because he needs for Jon to get it. “Everyone is happy. No one else is bothered by it. I didn’t expect you to be. I know it’s not some weird, homophobic, anti-same-sex marriage freak out, Jon, so what is it? Do you not like the idea of two of your band mates being married? Even if it’s not…if it’s just…whatever this is. Because this doesn’t change any band dynamics at all. Things are going to stay the same. Brendon and I just…share a bed. Share a life. Just like we all do except we’re cutting down on having to pay two lots of rent.”
“No!” Jon shakes his head. “That’s not it. It’s just…you’re not married, not really.”
“But what if we were?” Spencer asks. “What then?”
Jon stares at him for a moment. “Do you want to be?”
Spencer shoves the last remaining bits of trash into the bag and huffs as he picks it up. “Don’t be a dick,” he says, and takes the trash out.
When he gets back Jon and Ryan look up at him like he’s just walked into the middle of a conversation.
“I’m going to bed,” Spencer announces. “The one I share with Brendon. You guys can let yourselves out.”
“Spence,” Jon says, and his eyes flick towards Ryan, who nods. “I’m sorry. Really. I just don’t want either of you to get hurt. Pretending to be married…that can’t be easy.”
“We’re not pretending,” Spencer tells him. “We are married and we’re making it work. And no one is going to get hurt.”
“You can’t know that,” Jon says. “Spence, I’m really sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Spencer tells him. “No one’s going to get hurt because this is…convenience. No emotions or hearts to get broken.”
“Are you sure about that?” Jon asks, and Spencer is half sure. There’s no feelings on Brendon’s side at least, and Spencer still isn’t ready to think about his own, so he nods.
“I’m sure,” he tells him, and then heads to bed.
Brendon is asleep when he slides in, but he half wakes up and scoots a little closer.
“Hi,” he says, voice muffled by the pillow.
“Go back to sleep,” Spencer says softly and closes his eyes when Brendon sighs contentedly and says “Okay.”
~~~
Making demos goes well and Spencer sends them off to Pete, who is unsurprisingly enthusiastic about them. They practice for a couple more days, then head off on what Ryan insists on calling a pre-tour tour. Just a few shows, nothing big, nothing spectacular. Festivals, mainly, warming them up before they head into the studio and finally lay down the tracks they’ve been working on for months.
It’s a good feeling, being back on the road. Spencer’s missed it. They all have. It’s a nice change from the domesticity he’s grown used to. There’s something about it, going to sleep in one place, travelling through the night and waking up into sunlight on a new stretch of scenery. A different day, a different city. There’s no room for boredom here, even though Spencer’s rarely been bored at home lately.
Spencer can’t break all of their routines though. He still bundles up Brendon’s clothes and washes them with his own, still accepts the morning coffee that Brendon hands him at the crack of noon and sits opposite him to eat their cereal. These are habits he can’t, and doesn’t want to break. It’s also habit to fall asleep listening to Brendon’s breathing, and it’s not quite the same when there are two curtains and several feet of air between them. Spencer’s not the only one missing this though- for the first few nights Brendon climbs out of his own bunk and into Spencer’s.
Spencer inches over until his nose brushes the wall, remembering how they’d done this the first time they’d gotten a bus. It had all been so new and unfamiliar that sleeping in each others bunks had been the only comforting thing available to them.
It’s not something they’ve done in awhile- they were tinier back then and it’s not as easy to squeeze two grown men with filled out shoulders into a tight space. They manage though, for the first few nights at least, until Brendon complains it’s too uncomfortable and Spencer snaps at him to get back to his own bunk then. Brendon goes and Spencer doesn’t sleep that night.
He sleeps the next night though, the effects of touring taking their toll. He’s so tired he could sleep anywhere, with or without Brendon.
The tour goes too fast and too slow at the same time. Before they know it it’s the last show and afterwards they celebrate, just like always. The bands, the crew, staff from the last venue, all head out on the town. It’s fun- Spencer feels himself unwind, the tension that’s been twisting up in his shoulders easing as he sips on his drink. He sits in a corner with Jon and Shane and gets drunk because he can, because there’s someone else to be the responsible one.
He looks over at Zack, wondering who he’s busy keeping an eye on, and follows Zack’s gaze. He almost expects his eyes to land on Ryan, but it’s Brendon Zack’s watching with a slightly wary look.
Brendon is leaning against the bar, bottle of beer dangling loosely between his fingers. There are a lot of people around him, but Spencer can see immediately he’s only really talking to one of them. It’s a tech belonging to one of the other bands on the tour and Spencer wishes he could remember the guy’s name, until Brendon leans in and rests his hand on the guy’s shoulder to steady himself as he laughs. Spencer’s drink tastes suddenly bitter on his tongue and he sets the glass down. To most people, it would look innocent, but Spencer knows Brendon well, knows that the cock of his head, the lean of his shoulders and that smile, that gorgeous fucking smile, means he’s flirting.
It makes Spencer feel sick, and he’s not sure why. He has no claim on Brendon- there’s no ring on Brendon’s finger despite their stupid fucked up marriage. Even with Brendon’s insistence of fidelity, Spencer has no claim on him because it’s not like they’re in a real relationship.
He’s not sure what to call the ugly, clawing monster that stirs suddenly inside him, but Spencer’s pretty sure if he were to ask, it’d tell him it’s name is jealousy. Which makes no sense. None of this makes sense, and the bar is too dark suddenly, too stuffy, too full of people that Brendon might flirt with (because that could be anyone, everyone- except for Spencer).
“Hey, you alright?” Jon asks, and Spencer picks up his glass and downs his drink.
“Yeah, yeah, just tired,” he says. “I’m gonna head back to the bus.”
Shane frowns. “Want me to come with?” he asks, and Spencer shakes his head and half stands up to inch his way out of the booth, nudging Jon out of the way as he does so.
“Tell Zack?” Spencer asks as Jon slides back into the booth, leaning heavily against Shane, who laughs and nods.
“Want me to tell the wife, too?” he asks. Spencer’s not quick enough to hide the grimace that comes over his face, but luckily Shane is pushing Jon’s hand away from where it’s trying to steal Shane’s glass.
“I don’t think he’ll really care,” Spencer says and heads for the door. He doesn’t glance towards the bar, doesn’t look for Brendon, although he can picture it in his head. He’s seen Brendon flirt with enough people to know how these things always go. The light touches, the wide eyes and big smile and the nod of the head towards somewhere a little more private. Spencer needs to get out of the place before he runs the risk of accidentally spotting Brendon and his conquest in an alleyway. Even though it shouldn’t matter. He keeps telling himself this, but he’s finding it hard to listen.
“Hey, not so fast!”
There’s a hand on his chest and Spencer stumbles a little as his feet try to keep moving him towards the door. He blinks down at the girl. He’s sure her name is Ally or Callie or something and she’d been the one to show them around backstage when they’d arrived at the venue earlier in the day. She’s petite and has a bleached blonde trendy haircut and too much black eye makeup and she’s smiling up at Spencer like he’s worth flirting with.
“I was just leaving,” he says, before he can stop himself and she pouts, over exaggerated, lips shiny with gloss.
“Don’t you want to buy me a drink before you go?” she asks. “Or let me buy you one?” She runs her hand down his arm until it reaches his hand and then slips her palm into his, tugging him back towards the bar.
“I’m not thirsty,” Spencer says, thinking of Brendon holding his bottle of beer, tipping it up and taking a swallow, throat moving and bared as he drinks. He doesn’t want to see that, not if it’s for the benefit of some tech Brendon’s trying to fuck.
She raises an eyebrow at him. “Either you’re brushing me off or you’re straight to the point. I like direct guys. Wanna fuck?”
And no, no he doesn’t. Not with this girl whose name he can’t remember because Spencer’s good at keeping track of the important things, not the silly bits that float around the fringes of their lives. But if Brendon can break the vows he’s insisted are so important, well, Spencer can too, especially since he’s been the one who’s maintained all along that this farce can only last for so long before reality got in the way and made it obvious that being married to someone you aren’t supposed to be with can never work.
“Sure,” Spencer says and she leads him into the women’s restroom, pushes him into a stall and pulls his head down to kiss her.
Her lip gloss is cinnamon flavoured and she’s too short, but Spencer kisses her anyway, long and hard and then, when his neck twinges in protest, picks her up and presses her against the wall. She wraps her legs around his waist and it makes Spencer think of every time Brendon had jumped on his back, demanding a piggyback and wrapping his legs around to cross his ankles over Spencer’s bellybutton.
“Do you have anything?” she asks, between kisses and Spencer shakes his head. She looks disappointed for a moment, then says, “okay, that’s okay, put me down, I wanna-” and then drops to her knees when Spencer lowers her back to the floor.
She grins up at him, a practiced wicked grin, and reaches for his belt buckle. She’s got it undone and is slowly pulling down the zipper of Spencer’s jeans when Spencer realises three things- one, he’s nowhere near hard, two, he’s about to walk out of this bathroom without getting laid and three, he’s looking down at her wondering what Brendon looks like from that angle.
“No, stop,” he says, and her hands fall away. She frowns up at him.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I can’t do this,” he says, and starts to buckle his belt back up. She reaches out and places a hand on his, stilling it.
“What are you, married or something?” she says. “Because it’s okay if you are.”
Spencer laughs. “Yeah,” he replies. “Yeah, I am actually. And it’s not okay. I have to go.”
He moves to open the door but she’s in the way and he has to hold down a hand to her, pulling her to her feet, before he can escape.
“Are you serious?” she asks, dusting herself off. “You’re turning this down?”
Spencer nods.
“Wow, that is really fucking gay.” She looks pissed off, even more so when Spencer laughs again because yeah, it really fucking is.
Spencer goes back to the bus and climbs into his bunk. He tries to sleep, but every time he closes his eyes he thinks about Brendon, head tipped back against a brick wall and the tech on his knees in front of him. He tosses and turns for awhile and must eventually fall asleep because he’s woken at some point later by his curtain being drawn back and Brendon whispering “Spence? Can I sleep with you tonight?”
Brendon smells like booze and weed and probably sex too, and Spencer hates Brendon then, for being the cause of this jealous creature in his chest, for all his insincere talk of vows and honouring them.
He knows Brendon can see he’s awake, but he just turns onto his side, away from Brendon, without a word.
There’s a pause, and then Brendon gets in behind him.
“You smell like cinnamon,” he says against Spencer’s neck and Spencer thinks of that girl, of the bathroom stall, and feels sick, guilty, like he’s done something wrong when it’s Brendon who started this whole thing.
Spencer doesn’t sleep, not with Brendon pressed hot and clingy along his back, and the next morning he’s in a pissy mood. Everyone seems to put it down to end of tour blues, and they avoid him as much as possible, which suits Spencer just fine. He avoids looking at the tech when they arrive at the airport, and doesn’t talk for the entirety of the flight other than to tell Brendon to stop being a baby when he sulks because Spencer took the window seat.
Spencer wants to talk to Ryan, even though he’s not sure what he’d say. He’s not sure how to voice ‘I could have gotten laid last night because Brendon was fucking some tech but I didn’t want to because I think I’m jealous of Brendon having sex with other people and I’m scared what that means’ and it’s a moot point anyway because Ryan and Jon are flying east for a few days before joining them back in LA to record.
They take a taxi from the airport to their house and the moment they get inside Shane gives Spencer a strange look, grabs a beer out of the fridge and hightails it into his room.
“Wanna hang out?” Brendon asks, dumping his back in the hallway.
Spencer doesn’t reply, just walks straight to their room and puts his bag near the laundry basket, ready to sort out in the morning. He sits down on the bed and unlaces his shoes carefully.
When he looks up Brendon is standing in the doorway, smiling. The smile slides off slowly as Spencer stares at him, and Brendon pushes himself away from the doorframe and fidgets.
“Uh, I’ll leave you alone then,” he says, and disappears back down the hallway.
Spencer goes straight to bed without bothering to shower, even though he can still smell and taste the cinnamon. He wakes up in the middle of the night and finds the mattress beside him empty, but he’s too tired to get up and check on Brendon, to see if he’s just caught up watching reruns on TV or playing an epic game of Halo, or if it’s something more serious that a glass of warm milk and someone to talk to might ease.
The next morning Shane leaves early, leaving Brendon and Spencer alone in the kitchen. Spencer’s buttering his toast when Brendon puts down his orange juice and says, “Have I pissed you off? Because I’m sorry if I have. I didn’t mean to. I don’t want you to be mad.”
Spencer wants to tell Brendon that yes, yes he has pissed him off, but this isn’t Brendon’s fault. It’s not Brendon’s fault that Spencer’s developing feelings he’s still not ready to admit to. It’s not Brendon’s fault he’s doing exactly what Spencer told him to do- go out and sleep with people, do what he’d do normally, ignore that stupid marriage license.
Spencer cuts his toast in half and offers a piece to Brendon.
“I’m not mad at you,” he says, and it’s mostly true. He’s pretty much just mad at himself.
Brendon hesitates, then takes the toast. “Thanks,” he says.
“It’s just tour, is all,” Spencer elaborates. “End of tour stuff. You know. It’s kinda crazy.”
Brendon nods earnestly. “I could sleep for a hundred days,” he says.
“Just not last night?” Spencer asks and Brendon doesn’t meet his eyes right away.
“I slept in the spare room,” he admits finally. “Thought maybe you wanted some space.”
Spencer stares at Brendon for a long moment and then sighs. “I had plenty of space on tour,” he tells him. “If you want to go on sharing a room, we should.”
Brendon frowns. “Why wouldn’t I want to? It’s easier to steal your shirts if they’re in the same wardrobe as mine anyway.”
Spencer makes a face and Brendon laughs.
“We’re good, right?” Brendon asks after a moment. “I mean, tour can be weird anyway. Touring as a married couple is-”
“No different than touring used to be,” Spencer says, and Brendon hesitates for a moment, before nodding.
“Okay then,” he says. “Hey, want to pick the dogs up and take them to the beach for the day?”
Spencer really, really does.
~~~
“Wanna watch some porn?” Brendon asks one night when they’re sitting around doing nothing and watching TV. They’ve been back from tour for four days, and it’s been weeks since they’ve watched any together.
“Sure,” Spencer says and Brendon grins as he gets up and puts on what Spencer’s realising is his favourite DVD. He has it hidden in a case entitled Ryan’s Favourite Moulin Rouge Clips and according to Brendon the only person who’s ever accidentally seen it was Pete, who’d picked it up last time he visited, and had posted it back with a post-it saying ‘Nice, Patrick says thanks’ stuck to the front.
It’s a good porno, Spencer has to admit. The boomchickawowows are kept to a minimum and there’s not much of a bad attempt at a plot- it’s just two hot guys getting it on and the few times Spencer’s seen it before, he’s enjoyed it.
Except today, as he watches, he can’t help but wonder if that’s what Brendon and that tech had done. If the tech had kissed his way down Brendon’s spine and then slid a hand around to wrap his fingers around Brendon’s dick. If Brendon had arched into the touch and if he’d turned and kissed the tech hungrily, if he’d wrapped his own hand around the hand holding him.
Spencer tries to concentrate on what’s on screen, but Brendon’s making those tiny little sighs that Spencer’s not even sure he knows he makes. It makes him wonder if that’s what Brendon had sounded like, and really he has no right to think about any of this.
He swallows hard and stands up. He can feel Brendon’s eyes on him as he leaves the room and walks purposefully towards their bedroom. He lies down on the bed and stares at the ceiling and tries to think of anything but Brendon, anything unsexy. He’s skipped past math homework and having to kiss his great aunt Sally and every boring sport he can think of until he remembers that time when he was nine and Ryan was ten and Ryan had dressed up in Spencer’s mom’s clothing and had made the ugliest girl in the world ever and made Spencer dance with him. It makes Spencer pull a face and then laugh and that’s when the knock on the door comes.
“Spence?” Brendon asks as he pushes the door open. He has his hand across his eyes, peeping between his fingers and it makes Spencer almost smile. “Are you okay?”
He sees Spencer lying on the bed, fully clothed and drops his hand. “Oh!” he says. “I thought you might be. Um. You know.”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. “No.”
“We could watch something else, if you want?” Brendon suggests and Spencer realises that Brendon should still be watching the movie, should be getting his rocks off somehow.
“Nah. You go and watch,” Spencer says and Brendon shakes his head.
“We watch together,” he reminds Spencer and Spencer sighs.
“I don’t want to, anymore.”
Brendon nods. “Okay. Fair enough. Some other time then?”
Spencer’s about to nod but he shakes his head instead. “No. I. I don’t think we should do that anymore. I mean…it’s kinda weird. Right?”
Brendon’s face falls and then his big fake smile is in place. “Oh. Sure,” he says. “Whatever you want. Yeah. It probably is weird.”
Spencer nods and Brendon sits down at the edge of the bed. Neither of them say anything for a long moment.
“Hey,” Spencer says. “Wanna hear about the time Ryan dressed up in a black bra and high heels and did a song from Cabaret?”
Brendon grins, a real smile slowly spreading across his face and almost reaching his eyes.
“Always,” he says and Spencer laughs and tells him, and then they call Ryan up and mock him for a little while and it’s fun.
It stops being fun when Spencer wakes up one morning and realises it’s been two weeks since he last jerked off and he’s pretty sure Brendon hasn’t in awhile either. Not that he’s with Brendon constantly, but he knows Brendon well enough to know when the jitteriness that lives under his skin is because of pent up nerves or energy or something else.
It’s not that they can’t do anything about it- they still take showers and have toilet breaks and are by themselves in the house for periods of time where they could take five minutes to beat off. But it feels even weirder now than it did before and Spencer wonders if he’s fucked things up completely. Even though there’s really not anything more than friendship to fuck up.
He’s considered talking to Brendon about it. How Brendon had somehow managed to invoke the 150 mile rule even when Spencer was there on tour with him and how he should be able to fuck whoever he wants, whenever he wants, regardless of what a drunken mistake and the resulting piece of paper says. But Spencer can’t bring himself to say anything. Whether it’s because he wants to avoid an awkward conversation or because he doesn’t want Brendon to sleep with anyone, he’s still not sure although more and more he’s beginning to admit to himself these are feelings that he has no right to be having.
Spencer gets out of bed. The mattress beside him is cold which means Brendon’s been up for awhile and there’s no sound of running water from the bathroom. Spencer pulls on a t-shirt and heads towards the kitchen. He can hear voices- Brendon, and Shane too, probably enjoying breakfast. Spencer’s about to push open the door and step inside when he hears Brendon complain, “I need to get laid.”
It makes Spencer hesitate, hand resting against the door handle.
"The porn not doing it for you?" he hears Shane ask and Brendon makes a frustrated noise. Spencer can't see his face, but he can imagine his expression, how he's rubbing his hand through his already messy hair.
“We don’t do that anymore,” he says, voice sounding a little strained.
"Dude," Shane says after a beat. "Go out and get laid then."
"You know I can't do that," Brendon tells him.
"Spencer won't mind," Shane points out and Spencer almost laughs at how wrong Shane is.
There's a pause. "I know," Brendon says, eventually, and Spencer wishes he could see their faces now, could see why it took him so long to respond. "But that's not the point. I'll mind."
Spencer inhales sharply. For a giddy moment he wonders if Brendon will mind for the same reasons Spencer probably might mind, if he was willing to admit it to himself, but then he hears Shane curiously say "Oh?" and Brendon laughs.
"The vows dude. That's all. I made a promise and I'm going to keep it. It's not. You know."
"You sure?" Shane questions and there's another long pause.
"Fuck off," Brendon says. "I'm not having this conversation again."
"You know your own mind better than I do," Shane agrees, but there's a hint of something he's not saying in his voice. “Didn’t you hook up with some tech on tour anyway?”
“No,” Brendon says quickly. Too quickly, Spencer thinks, and wishes again he could see Brendon’s face. “No. I was just…it was nice to flirt with someone. It’s nice to get attention, to feel wanted.”
Shane snorts. “You have hundreds of screaming girls watching you every night, blogging about you and writing weird shit,” he points out.
“You know what I mean,” Brendon says, sounding exasperated. “I feel like one of those 50s housewives who worry they’re not desirable anymore.”
“You would look hot in a full skirt and red lipstick,” Shane replies and then exclaims, “ow!” when Brendon presumably punches him.
“I’m married and I’m not having sex and it’s kind of frustrating,” Brendon tells him. “So, man, sorry if I liked the attention from that dude. Nothing happened though. I made vows, Shane. And I’m going to keep them, even if Spencer doesn’t.”
There’s another long pause.
“Have you thought about telling Spencer how you feel?” Shane asks.
“I don’t-”
“About this whole sex issue,” Shane adds hurriedly. “Not…anything else.”
“There is nothing else,” Brendon says firmly. “Honest. Stop looking at me like that, Shane.”
“I’m just saying-”
Brendon sighs. “I know. But I don’t think there’s a solution to this. There’s nothing he can do to make me want to break those vows. And telling him would just make things more awkward than they are. I’m forcing the guy to be married to me, holding him back from his own life just so I don’t disappoint my family. He’s doing me a favour so the least I can do is not whine to him about it.”
“Whatever you want, dude,” Shane says and then all Spencer can hear is the sound of crockery and cutlery being moved around so he figures it’s safe to enter.
He stretches and yawns as he pushes open the door and notices the way Brendon’s eyes grow a little wider when he sees Spencer, how he glances worriedly at Shane.
“Morning,” Spencer declares, nudging Shane out of the way with his hip so he can get at the coffee pot. He tries not to give Brendon too considering a look when he sits down at the kitchen table, mug clutched in his hand, even though Brendon is watching him and frowning a little.
Spencer wants to tell Brendon that he doesn’t mind being married to him, that he wishes it were easier, that he’ll figure out a solution to the situation. But instead he gives Brendon a sleepy smile and says, “What’ve you guys got planned for today?”
Shane has a meeting to go to, and Brendon has some songs he wants to work on, so Spencer spends the day in the music room, offering input and taking advantage of Brendon going to grab them both lunch to wail on the drums for a bit. It makes his shoulders ache and his fingers sore, but he feels better, even if inside his head he’s more confused than ever.
On to Part 3.
It feels strange to be welcoming Brendon’s parents into what is, technically, Spencer and Brendon’s home together.
Brendon’s mom presses a kiss to Spencer’s cheek as he greets her, and Brendon’s dad gives him a small but friendly smile. Spencer can’t help but think of the first time he’d met them, tense and suspicious when a teenage Spencer had mistakenly rang the doorbell when picking Brendon up for practice instead of waiting around the corner like Brendon had asked him to.
“You have a lovely home,” Brendon’s mom tells Spencer as they walk into the lounge, and even though Spencer’s done nothing but rush around and tidy up after Brendon and Shane as best he can, he feels a surge of pride at her approval.
“Thank you,” he says and smiles. There’s a long, awkward moment as they all stand around. “Um, please sit down?” Spencer suggests, waving his hand towards the sofa and feeling like some sort of bizarre talk show host.
They do, and Spencer sits opposite them in an armchair. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Brendon hesitate for a moment, before walking over and sitting on the arm of Spencer’s chair.
Spencer looks up at him and smiles. Brendon rests his hand on Spencer’s shoulder to steady himself when he leans forward too sharply.
When Spencer looks over, Brendon’s parents are exchanging a look. He has a brief moment of worry, but it doesn’t seem to be a suspicious look, so he lets himself relax.
No one speaks for a long moment. Brendon clears his throat into the silence and then says, “Shane’s sorry he couldn’t be here. He’s visiting a friend this weekend.”
Brendon’s mom looks surprised. “Shane still lives here? With you both?”
Brendon shrugs and she frowns a little, confused.
“But this is your first marital home!” she says. “Surely you want to be alone, together.”
Brendon glances down at Spencer who pulls on his calm, deal-with-the-press smile. “It’s hardly fair of us to expect Shane to move out so quickly, when we sprung the marriage thing on him like we did. We’re happy to have him here until he’s able to find the perfect place to stay.”
Brendon’s dad nods, as if Spencer’s diplomatic answer is what he wanted to hear, and Spencer is about to inwardly sigh in relief when Brendon’s mom asks, “Shane didn’t know about the wedding either?”
Spencer looks up at Brendon.
“Um, no, well, you see, we…” Brendon trails off, jiggling his knee nervously. He waves his hand about and then guides it towards his mouth. Spencer’s certain he’s about to bite his fingernails off again, a habit that drives Spencer mad and only seems to surface whenever Brendon is nervous. So he reaches out and takes Brendon’s hand, pulling it down to tuck between his thigh and the arm of the chair.
“No one knew,” Spencer says, and marvels at how much easier the truth rolls off his tongue. “It was a spur of the moment decision. I know that probably sounds bad but at the time it made sense. We wanted to be together, and the chapel was there and it seemed…romantic.”
When he looks up, Brendon is staring down at him with a soft, happy look on his face, and Spencer wonders if that’s how it was, if somewhere in their drunken haze they’d recognised romance and something they didn’t notice when sober. It had obviously been enough to make it seem like a good idea and Spencer wishes he could remember that night. He’s had snatches of memory come back- holding a glass full of ice and alcohol, holding a full house during a tense round of poker, holding Brendon’s hot, sweaty hand tightly in his- but nowhere near enough pieces to solve the puzzle of how they ended up married and sprawled across a motel bed.
Brendon leans in towards Spencer a little, and for a crazy moment Spencer thinks he’s going to kiss him. But it’s more than that- there’s a part of Spencer that wants Brendon to kiss him and he’s not entirely sure where these thoughts are coming from, out of the blue like this. He wonders if he’s getting swept up in the whole charade, the show they’re putting on for Brendon’s family. Spencer’s heard about getting into a role, but he doesn’t think he’s that good an actor. Brendon though, Brendon is that good an actor and it reminds Spencer how important it is for Brendon that this goes smoothly.
He lifts his chin and Brendon leans in even closer, eyes trained on Spencer’s face, smiling a little.
A distant, insistent beeping fills the air and Spencer jumps out of his seat, almost sending Brendon flying. He reaches out to steady Brendon.
“Dinner!” he exclaims. “I should go and check on it.”
“You cooked?” Brendon’s dad asks, and Spencer nods.
“It’s just a casserole. Nothing spectacular,” he says modestly, as if he hadn’t spent longer than he’d care to admit cooking earlier in the day.
Brendon’s mom gives Spencer an approving look and it makes him think of back when Brendon had gotten ridiculously skinny and Spencer had nagged and nagged him to eat and look after himself. Brendon had rolled his eyes and sighed and said “That is exactly what my mom said the last time she saw me,” but he’d eaten the grilled cheese sandwich Spencer had made for him without argument.
“I should go and finish,” Spencer says, and flees into the kitchen.
The door swings shut behind him just after he hears Brendon’s mom say, “So, tell us all about the ceremony.”
Hearing Brendon’s flustered reply, Spencer’s pretty sure he’s made a lucky escape, but the conversation continues over dinner. Brendon seems to be getting into the spirit of storytelling, expanding more than he should. Spencer kicks him under the table whenever he gets too ludicrous (doves did not place the ring on Spencer’s finger- in fact they don’t have rings and Spencer wonders if that’s something they should organise or whether that’s taking the whole marriage of convenience thing too far) but between them they concoct a simple story of a brief but beautiful wedding ceremony.
Brendon’s parents seem to be accepting, both of the story and of Spencer, and Spencer finds himself starting to relax around them.
After dinner, Brendon’s mom helps Spencer with the dishes while Brendon shows his dad a stack of vinyl records they’d found in a dusty music store around the corner from their house.
Spencer washes, letting the dishes drain on the side while he finishes. Before he can pick up a dishcloth, Brendon’s mom reaches over and starts drying off the glasses. Spencer puts them away, and they carry on a steady stream of conversation about how he’d gotten the recipe for dinner from watching the food network.
“Before you were married,” Brendon’s mom says, when there’s a lull in the conversation, handing Spencer a now-dry plate to put away. “Were you…together for long?”
Spencer frowns a little as he puts the plate away in the cupboard. “Well, I mean, I’ve known Brendon since we were 15,” he says. “You know that.”
He’s rather proud of himself for keeping the accusatory tone out of his voice, the reminder of Brendon turning up on his doorstep looking broken and saying “I had to leave”, or all the nights, after Brendon had gotten his own place, when Spencer’s mom would prod Spencer to phone him, invite him round for dinner, since that was the only way they’d know that Brendon was eating right.
Brendon’s mom gives him a sharp look. “Yes, but you weren’t…” she waves her hand at Spencer then back towards the living room, where Brendon is entertaining his father with the more PG-rated stories from the last tour, “together then,” she finishes, and Spencer catches on.
He shakes his head quickly. “Oh, oh no. No no. Not then. No. Definitely not. Nope. We’ve not been together like, uh, like this for that long, honestly. But we’ve been good friends for a long time. So…yeah.”
Brendon’s mom nods and hands him another plate. “And were you acting as man and…ahem, I mean, a married couple before you were married?”
The plate’s still a bit damp and it slips from Spencer’s fingers. He manages to catch it before it hits the counter, and he places it in the cupboard quickly.
“Um, you mean…”
“Relations,” she clarifies, looking as uncomfortable as Spencer feels. “Did the two of you-“
“Oh!” Spencer blurts. “No! God no! I mean, no ma’am. We did not.” He wonders what she’d say if she knew they weren’t having ‘relations’ now, not in this strange sham-but-maybe-not-sham-in-the-back-of-Spencer’s-mind marriage they have going on.
She stares at him a moment too long, as if checking to see if he’s lying, but eventually she nods, satisfied he’s telling the truth. She reaches up and pats his cheek lightly.
“You’re a good boy,” she says, then corrects herself. “Man, I mean. You’re good for Brendon. You make him happy. That’s all we want for our son.”
“Me too,” Spencer says, and he means it. He’s always meant it, but he means it more now. He’s not sure why. He’s always felt protective over Brendon, over his whole band, but lately, since that day they’d woken up in Vegas, he’s felt it even more.
Spencer figures he’s somehow buying into some archaic stereotype of how a husband should act, how he should care for his…well, in this case, husband because Brendon would probably punch him if he called Brendon his wife. But it’s nice too, to be there to provide and care for someone, and to know they want you to do it. It’s the role Spencer’s always played, always liked playing. It feels comfortable, and it feels right being with Brendon all the time too.
Spencer realises he’s really content, right now. It makes him smile, and Brendon’s mom smiles back.
They finish the dishes and go into the living room, where Brendon’s dad challenges them to a couples game of Scrabble. Spencer makes sure to let the Urie’s win, which makes Brendon pout.
Spencer reaches over and squeezes Brendon’s knee, just lightly, and Brendon smiles at him and puts his hand over Spencer’s.
Later, when he’s packing away the tiles, Spencer catches Brendon’s dad watching him. He looks up and Brendon’s dad nods, just once, but it’s approving. And Spencer can’t help but enjoy the surge of happiness the acceptance gives him.
The next morning they take Brendon’s parents out for brunch, and spend the rest of the day wandering around tiny stores in their neighbourhood, until Brendon and his dad start to tire of shopping and find an excuse to go back home.
“You can go back too,” Brendon’s mom says to Spencer. “I don’t get to look at these fancy LA boutiques often, so I’ll be alright on my own if you’re bored.”
Spencer gives her a scandalised look. “Are you kidding me? They sell shoes here. I can’t leave until I’ve bought something.”
Brendon’s mom laughs and asks Spencer what he thinks of a blouse she likes. Spencer’s just relieved it’s not ugly and he doesn’t have to lie.
“They seem to believe it,” Brendon says that night when they’re lying in darkness. “I can’t believe we’re getting away with this. Thanks for playing along.”
Spencer shrugs even though Brendon can’t see him. “It’s not like it’s a hardship,” he points out, and smiles when Brendon’s ankle brushes his.
The next morning he wakes up with a warm weight lying across his chest. He cracks his eyes open and blinks down at where Brendon’s head is on his shoulder, one arm slung across Spencer’s chest. It’s not the first time he’s woken up like this- Brendon is as tactile in sleep as he is when awake- but it’s the first time Spencer stays where he is and just enjoys the nearness of another person.
He closes his eyes and is about to doze back off, when there’s a light tap at their bedroom door.
“Boys? I’m making breakfast. Just wanted to check how many pancakes you wanted.”
Spencer opens his eyes and lifts his head in time to see Brendon’s mom smiling at them from the doorway. He imagines it must paint a pretty scene, Brendon’s arm wrapped around Spencer in his sleep.
“I’ll leave you both to sleep a bit longer then,” Brendon’s mom says, in a hushed voice. She gives her son a fond smile and then directs it at Spencer, before softly closing the door.
When Brendon wakes up, Spencer tells him all about it, and Brendon seems a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” he says, shrugging into a clean shirt.
Spencer’s not sure what Brendon’s sorry about. If anything it was a clever tactic. Brendon’s parents are friendlier than ever to Spencer, hugging him goodbye before they set off on the drive home, making them promise to visit soon.
“That went well,” Spencer says. Brendon nods and doesn’t say anything, except to challenge Spencer to a game of Mario Kart.
Spencer doesn’t think about their sleeping arrangement until late that night when he pauses in the doorway of the spare room. It really is a minty green they’ve somehow chosen, and Spencer doesn’t like it at all.
“I’m staying in here tonight,” Spencer says, walking into Brendon’s room. Brendon doesn’t complain as Spencer gets into bed beside him, like he’s been doing for the past week. “I hate moving,” he reminds Brendon and Brendon laughs. “And we need to redecorate. Again.”
He means to buy new paint the next day, to start moving his things back into the other room, but he doesn’t get around to either. He forgets the next day too, and the next day, until Brendon shrugs and says “why don’t you just live in here?” like it makes perfect sense.
Spencer’s unsure but Brendon points out that if they have other guests come and stay, they’ll have a readily available room for them, that Spencer wouldn’t have to move, that Brendon has his own bathroom so it’s nice and convenient, that married couples usually share a room anyway and that it’s no different than having to share a bed when they’re on tour.
Spencer doesn’t argue with any of Brendon’s points and Brendon’s room becomes their room and it doesn’t seem that weird at all. Most of the time it’s just like being on tour, living in each others pockets but better because they’re not cramped up in tiny claustrophobic bunks. It’s not like they have any secrets from each other either- they’ve known each other long enough that any weird or unusual habits are well known and Brendon’s fondness for pantsless Wednesdays on tour means there’s very little to be awkward about when they’re sharing each others spaces.
Except, of course, for jerking off. Spencer has to plan his jerking off for times when he knows Brendon won’t be around. He can barely bring himself to do it during his morning shower, since he’s sure that Brendon’s thinking that’s what he’s doing in there. That makes it weird somehow, probably because Spencer lies in bed most mornings listening to the sound of water running in the bathroom and wonders if Brendon is jerking off, forehead pressed against the cool tile and eyes clenched shut to keep the soap out of his eyes.
Spencer doesn’t think about how it’s weird they don’t tease each other about it, when they would have done before. A rustle of bedclothes and muffled gasp in the bunks had been enough for hours of good natured teasing on the buses, and it had been a main topic of conversation during the early days, recording the album and sharing shitty motel rooms and sleeping in the back of a dirty van. Now though, something’s different, something’s changed, and Spencer tries not to think about whether it’s more than just that piece of paper that’s changed them.
Brendon jumps up guiltily when Spencer wanders into the living room one day, intent on walking into the kitchen and hanging up his keys by the back door.
“Spence!” Brendon exclaims, voice a little too high, a stain of red on both his cheeks. Spencer’s not sure what’s going on until he glances across at the TV and sees the pay-per-view porn menu.
Spencer rolls his eyes. “Wow, Bren, no need to freak out. It’s not like I haven’t caught you looking at porn before.”
He tries not to think about that time in the dingy motel, right when they were first starting out. He and Brent had stumbled in, tired and ready for showers and bed, to find Brendon with his hand in his pants, gazing at some late night erotica movie he’d found on one of the cable channels. All he remembers is the way the light from the TV in the darkened room had lit Brendon’s face, how red his lips had been, how still his arm had gone, and how incessant Brent’s teasing had been. And how much Ryan had shouted when he’d found out and thought Brendon was watching stuff they couldn’t afford to pay for.
Brendon ducks his head, laughing, and then shakes it. “It’s different now,” he says, and Spencer’s not sure what he means until Brendon waves a hand between them and says, “Married, remember?”
Spencer chuckles. “Married couples watch porn all the time,” he points out.
“Yeah, together maybe,” Brendon shrugs.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not true,” Spencer says. “I don’t care if you watch porn, Brendon. It’s not like…you know.” Not like they’re a real couple, he means and he’s beginning to realise that that doesn’t necessarily mean anything to Brendon. He’s taken the whole marriage vows thing a lot more seriously than Spencer expected, considering he can’t remember making them.
Brendon makes a face.
“You know,” Spencer says. “I think I’m going to go for a drive.” He twirls his keys on his finger and turns to head back out the door.
“What’re you doing?”
Spencer glances back. “Leaving you alone so you can…” he mimes jacking off and Brendon flips him off. It makes Spencer grin as he heads out the door.
He gets into the car and drives to a Starbucks that’s a good thirty minute drive away in decent traffic (and hates himself, just a little, for knowing its location), takes his time over his orange mocha frappuccino, orders the same thing for Brendon even though it’ll have melted by the time he gets back, and heads home.
Brendon is still sitting on the couch when Spencer walks in. He hands over the melted drink and makes a joking face at the remote Brendon’s using to systematically flick through the channels.
“Hope you washed your hand, dude,” he says, and Brendon pauses and glances up at him.
The channel is part of the way through an episode of Murder, She Wrote, and it’s a bizarre backdrop to Brendon saying, “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t jerk off. It felt wrong.”
Spencer sits down beside him. “Wrong?” he asks, and Brendon nods.
“We’re married,” he says, a little miserably which Spencer tries not to take personally. “And I’d always had these expectations, of marriage, of what you should and shouldn’t do, how you respect your partner. And I know it’s stupid, but it feels like I’m cheating on you if I’m watching porn on my own.”
Spencer doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Brendon…you know that you can actually cheat on me and it’d be okay, right?”
Brendon shakes his head. “No! I vowed to be faithful!”
“You don’t know what you vowed. Neither do I. I don’t…I don’t expect you to follow any of those vows to the letter anyway.”
Brendon sighs. “You don’t understand. I’ve not done a lot of things right, in my life. I’ve gone against most of what I was raised to believe, hurt my family and myself and my friends and I’m trying to do something right, for once. Because even if this isn’t what I’d planned, I want to do it properly.”
Spencer frowns at him. “And what happens when, down the line, you fall in love with someone? Or I fall in love with someone? And we have to get that divorce, or just pretend this never happened at all?”
“I don’t know,” Brendon shrugs. “But that’s then. This is now and I am going to do it as best I can. So I’m not going to fuck anyone. And I’m not going to sit here and watch porn on my own.”
Spencer wants to ask what will happen if Spencer wants to fuck someone or watch porn on his own. But he doesn’t. Instead he finds himself saying, “fucking hell, do you want me to watch with you? Will that make you feel better?”
Brendon’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Uh, you mean…”
“I don’t mean do you want to pull your dick out and jack off while I sit here doing the same thing,” Spencer rolls his eyes and pushes the image that conjures up out of his mind. “I mean, we’ll watch your porno, you can store the images up for later and then…well, that’s not so bad, right?”
Brendon’s head tips to the side as he considers. “Okay,” he says finally, and pops a straw into the drink Spencer had brought him. He takes a long, noisy sip of watery milk and picks up the remote again, silencing Jessica Fletcher’s musings.
Spencer stretches out his legs and rests his head against the back of the sofa. This they’ve done before, all of them. Him and Brendon and Jon and Ryan, Eric and Zack and Shane and some of the techs and whoever else was on tour with them, hanging out in the bus and laughing at some porn that someone had brought on board. It was a normal guy thing to do, and there was nothing weird about it.
A loud moan of “Oh, yeah baby,” from the vicinity of the TV drags Spencer’s attention to the screen, where a girl with scarily long nails is writhing and moaning as an over-bronzed dude with muscles pounds into her.
“Brendon,” Spencer says after a moment, and Brendon looks worried when he glances over.
“Yeah?”
“Why are we watching some chick getting banged?”
Brendon stares at him for a moment. “Because you said you’d watch porn with me?” he says it like it’s a question and Spencer sighs.
“Is this what you were going to watch?” he asks, and Brendon hesitates before shaking his head.
“Then put that on,” Spencer tells him, but Brendon pauses with his thumb over the button on the remote.
“You realise I was going to watch some gay porn, right?” Brendon says and Spencer laughs.
“Colour me completely unsurprised. Just put it on.”
“But you-“
“Like guy-on-guy action as much as I like guy-on-girl,” Spencer answers and fixes his eyes on the screen until Brendon changes it. He can feel Brendon’s gaze on him and it’s making his neck flush read.
“What?” he demands, as the two guys now on screen start peeling each others clothes off.
“I…I didn’t know,” Brendon says. His voice is light and curious and something else that Spencer might have thought was nervousness if he didn’t know Brendon better and if that made any sense at all.
Spencer shrugs. “Yeah. Well. Not many people do.”
“Oh,” Brendon says, and Spencer thinks that nervousness is disguised hurt, at not being told, when he says, “Ryan?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. Of course Ryan knows, probably knew before Spencer had, knowing him.
Neither of them say anything else, just turn their attention back to the film. Spencer tries to concentrate but Brendon’s never been a quiet guy, and every so often there’s a slight gasp that escapes his lips, or he’ll shift his body, just a little, rearranging his hips and jeans for more or less friction (Spencer’s not sure which, not sure which he’d prefer right now, either). There’s a good two feet of space between them, on the sofa, but Spencer is painfully aware of Brendon’s presence as every slight movement makes the cushions shift, just a little bit.
When the movie is over, Spencer wipes his damp palms on the knees of his jeans and slides his eyes towards Brendon who lifts the remote and switches the TV off. His hand is a little shaky and Spencer curses himself for being an idiot and not thinking about this part, not planning ahead to the inevitable moment where they’d be so hard- from the porn, obviously- that they’d have to deal with it.
“Um,” Brendon says awkwardly. Spencer looks up and meets Brendon’s eyes. They stare at each other for a moment, then Brendon is up and out of the sofa and running up the stairs. Spencer hears their bedroom door close. After a moment the sound of distant running water tells him Brendon is in the shower and so he unbuttons his jeans, just enough to get his hand inside.
He tries to think back about what they’d just watched, but instead he can’t help but think about Brendon lifting up his face as the water beats down on him, jerking himself off frantically. It’s enough that Spencer’s barely gotten in a full stroke before he’s coming, biting his bottom lip with his eyes closed, the images burned onto the inside of his eyelids until his heart starts to beat normally again and he remembers how to breathe.
Spencer’s legs are unsteady when he gets to his feet and goes to clean himself up. He can hear the faint sound of Brendon singing, which tells him two things- that Brendon is finished jerking off, and that he’s happy.
Spencer’s happy too, as fucked up as that sounds, as fucked up as the situation is, as fucked up as Spencer is, coming at the thought of his friend/band mate/accidental husband getting off in the shower. Spencer does what he’s good at and files those thoughts away carefully, to freak out about on another day, and goes to make dinner.
When Brendon emerges his hair is damp and he’s smiling. He coos happily over the plate of spaghetti Spencer sets in front of him and they talk about a song Brendon’s working on and whether they need to get Boba a new leash since she’s almost chewed through the current one, and when Ryan will stop insisting on wearing that horrible shirt he’s currently in love with. Just like normal, as if nothing weird happened.
They do it again, three more times before they finish making the demos and go out on tour. Spencer stops thinking anything of it, stops berating himself for thinking about what Brendon’s doing, instead of whatever they’ve just watched, when he has his dick in his hand afterwards.
~~~
Now that Ryan lives in LA too, it makes sense for them to get together and record the demos and practice out there. Jon flies in and stays with Ryan, which puts Spencer’s mind at ease a little since Jon is bound to make sure the electricity stays on to ensure he’ll always have cold beer at least.
They decide to play in Brendon’s music room, mostly, since the fridge there is always well stocked and Ryan still hasn’t unpacked half his shit. Ryan brings Jon round on the first morning and they spend a few hours jamming before someone suggests smoking up and they lounge around for awhile.
Jon rolls his head to the side and smiles at Spencer. “How d’you like living in LA?” he asks and Spencer shrugs.
“I like it here” he says, full of emphasis, and Brendon turns and beams at Spencer, and rests his head against Spencer’s shoulder. He taps out a little tune on the mini keyboard in his lap and Ryan perks up.
“Play that again,” he commands. Brendon does and Ryan reaches for his guitar and they’re back into the music again.
That night, when they’ve put the instruments to the side and eaten too much take out and drank too much beer and smoked too much weed, they sprawl out on the floor. They pass several pleasant hours by playing the ‘hey, remember that time when…’ game and laughing a lot.
Eventually Brendon yawns and stretches, spine cracking.
“Bed,” he announces, and gets to his knees. He leans over Spencer, who is staring at the tiny crack in one corner of the ceiling, a thin black line weaving aimlessly across the plaster. “You coming?” Brendon asks and offers a hand to help him Spencer sit up.
Spencer shakes his head and lets Brendon’s hand go. “In a minute,” he says, glancing at the mess strewn around them. “Gonna clean up a little.”
Brendon laughs and presses a kiss between Spencer’s eyes. “I’ve got the best little housewife in the world,” he says to Ryan and Jon, and climbs to his feet. “Don’t be long,” he adds. “Else I’ll be fast asleep, sprawled across the whole bed and you’ll have to sleep on the floor.”
Spencer snorts. “Yeah, that’ll happen,” he says and gets to his feet. He follows Brendon out of the room, and goes to find a garbage bag. When he returns, Jon is frowning slightly.
“You two are sharing a bed now?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Spencer replies, picking up empty beer bottles and putting them together for recycling in the morning. “When his parents visited…it made sense. Avoided awkward questions.”
“Avoided them?” Jon sounds surprised.
Spencer nods and folds up a pizza box. “Not sure how we’d explain to them why a married couple aren’t sharing a bed.”
“Married couple,” Jon repeats, and it’s Spencer’s turn to frown.
“Yeah. We told you about it. You were there Jon. You pissed yourself laughing and then I made you help me load that stupid hire van with my shit.”
Jon glances across at Ryan, who is picking invisible dirt off the sleeve of his shirt and not looking at anyone.
Jon laughs, a little nervously. “But it’s a joke. It’s all a joke. You guys don’t have to live like this. You weren’t supposed to-”
“Do you need a hand, Spence?” Ryan interrupts loudly. He shoots Jon a look that Spencer doesn’t quite understand and Jon folds his arms across his chest and looks confused.
“This works for us,” Spencer explains, because he needs for Jon to get it. “Everyone is happy. No one else is bothered by it. I didn’t expect you to be. I know it’s not some weird, homophobic, anti-same-sex marriage freak out, Jon, so what is it? Do you not like the idea of two of your band mates being married? Even if it’s not…if it’s just…whatever this is. Because this doesn’t change any band dynamics at all. Things are going to stay the same. Brendon and I just…share a bed. Share a life. Just like we all do except we’re cutting down on having to pay two lots of rent.”
“No!” Jon shakes his head. “That’s not it. It’s just…you’re not married, not really.”
“But what if we were?” Spencer asks. “What then?”
Jon stares at him for a moment. “Do you want to be?”
Spencer shoves the last remaining bits of trash into the bag and huffs as he picks it up. “Don’t be a dick,” he says, and takes the trash out.
When he gets back Jon and Ryan look up at him like he’s just walked into the middle of a conversation.
“I’m going to bed,” Spencer announces. “The one I share with Brendon. You guys can let yourselves out.”
“Spence,” Jon says, and his eyes flick towards Ryan, who nods. “I’m sorry. Really. I just don’t want either of you to get hurt. Pretending to be married…that can’t be easy.”
“We’re not pretending,” Spencer tells him. “We are married and we’re making it work. And no one is going to get hurt.”
“You can’t know that,” Jon says. “Spence, I’m really sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Spencer tells him. “No one’s going to get hurt because this is…convenience. No emotions or hearts to get broken.”
“Are you sure about that?” Jon asks, and Spencer is half sure. There’s no feelings on Brendon’s side at least, and Spencer still isn’t ready to think about his own, so he nods.
“I’m sure,” he tells him, and then heads to bed.
Brendon is asleep when he slides in, but he half wakes up and scoots a little closer.
“Hi,” he says, voice muffled by the pillow.
“Go back to sleep,” Spencer says softly and closes his eyes when Brendon sighs contentedly and says “Okay.”
~~~
Making demos goes well and Spencer sends them off to Pete, who is unsurprisingly enthusiastic about them. They practice for a couple more days, then head off on what Ryan insists on calling a pre-tour tour. Just a few shows, nothing big, nothing spectacular. Festivals, mainly, warming them up before they head into the studio and finally lay down the tracks they’ve been working on for months.
It’s a good feeling, being back on the road. Spencer’s missed it. They all have. It’s a nice change from the domesticity he’s grown used to. There’s something about it, going to sleep in one place, travelling through the night and waking up into sunlight on a new stretch of scenery. A different day, a different city. There’s no room for boredom here, even though Spencer’s rarely been bored at home lately.
Spencer can’t break all of their routines though. He still bundles up Brendon’s clothes and washes them with his own, still accepts the morning coffee that Brendon hands him at the crack of noon and sits opposite him to eat their cereal. These are habits he can’t, and doesn’t want to break. It’s also habit to fall asleep listening to Brendon’s breathing, and it’s not quite the same when there are two curtains and several feet of air between them. Spencer’s not the only one missing this though- for the first few nights Brendon climbs out of his own bunk and into Spencer’s.
Spencer inches over until his nose brushes the wall, remembering how they’d done this the first time they’d gotten a bus. It had all been so new and unfamiliar that sleeping in each others bunks had been the only comforting thing available to them.
It’s not something they’ve done in awhile- they were tinier back then and it’s not as easy to squeeze two grown men with filled out shoulders into a tight space. They manage though, for the first few nights at least, until Brendon complains it’s too uncomfortable and Spencer snaps at him to get back to his own bunk then. Brendon goes and Spencer doesn’t sleep that night.
He sleeps the next night though, the effects of touring taking their toll. He’s so tired he could sleep anywhere, with or without Brendon.
The tour goes too fast and too slow at the same time. Before they know it it’s the last show and afterwards they celebrate, just like always. The bands, the crew, staff from the last venue, all head out on the town. It’s fun- Spencer feels himself unwind, the tension that’s been twisting up in his shoulders easing as he sips on his drink. He sits in a corner with Jon and Shane and gets drunk because he can, because there’s someone else to be the responsible one.
He looks over at Zack, wondering who he’s busy keeping an eye on, and follows Zack’s gaze. He almost expects his eyes to land on Ryan, but it’s Brendon Zack’s watching with a slightly wary look.
Brendon is leaning against the bar, bottle of beer dangling loosely between his fingers. There are a lot of people around him, but Spencer can see immediately he’s only really talking to one of them. It’s a tech belonging to one of the other bands on the tour and Spencer wishes he could remember the guy’s name, until Brendon leans in and rests his hand on the guy’s shoulder to steady himself as he laughs. Spencer’s drink tastes suddenly bitter on his tongue and he sets the glass down. To most people, it would look innocent, but Spencer knows Brendon well, knows that the cock of his head, the lean of his shoulders and that smile, that gorgeous fucking smile, means he’s flirting.
It makes Spencer feel sick, and he’s not sure why. He has no claim on Brendon- there’s no ring on Brendon’s finger despite their stupid fucked up marriage. Even with Brendon’s insistence of fidelity, Spencer has no claim on him because it’s not like they’re in a real relationship.
He’s not sure what to call the ugly, clawing monster that stirs suddenly inside him, but Spencer’s pretty sure if he were to ask, it’d tell him it’s name is jealousy. Which makes no sense. None of this makes sense, and the bar is too dark suddenly, too stuffy, too full of people that Brendon might flirt with (because that could be anyone, everyone- except for Spencer).
“Hey, you alright?” Jon asks, and Spencer picks up his glass and downs his drink.
“Yeah, yeah, just tired,” he says. “I’m gonna head back to the bus.”
Shane frowns. “Want me to come with?” he asks, and Spencer shakes his head and half stands up to inch his way out of the booth, nudging Jon out of the way as he does so.
“Tell Zack?” Spencer asks as Jon slides back into the booth, leaning heavily against Shane, who laughs and nods.
“Want me to tell the wife, too?” he asks. Spencer’s not quick enough to hide the grimace that comes over his face, but luckily Shane is pushing Jon’s hand away from where it’s trying to steal Shane’s glass.
“I don’t think he’ll really care,” Spencer says and heads for the door. He doesn’t glance towards the bar, doesn’t look for Brendon, although he can picture it in his head. He’s seen Brendon flirt with enough people to know how these things always go. The light touches, the wide eyes and big smile and the nod of the head towards somewhere a little more private. Spencer needs to get out of the place before he runs the risk of accidentally spotting Brendon and his conquest in an alleyway. Even though it shouldn’t matter. He keeps telling himself this, but he’s finding it hard to listen.
“Hey, not so fast!”
There’s a hand on his chest and Spencer stumbles a little as his feet try to keep moving him towards the door. He blinks down at the girl. He’s sure her name is Ally or Callie or something and she’d been the one to show them around backstage when they’d arrived at the venue earlier in the day. She’s petite and has a bleached blonde trendy haircut and too much black eye makeup and she’s smiling up at Spencer like he’s worth flirting with.
“I was just leaving,” he says, before he can stop himself and she pouts, over exaggerated, lips shiny with gloss.
“Don’t you want to buy me a drink before you go?” she asks. “Or let me buy you one?” She runs her hand down his arm until it reaches his hand and then slips her palm into his, tugging him back towards the bar.
“I’m not thirsty,” Spencer says, thinking of Brendon holding his bottle of beer, tipping it up and taking a swallow, throat moving and bared as he drinks. He doesn’t want to see that, not if it’s for the benefit of some tech Brendon’s trying to fuck.
She raises an eyebrow at him. “Either you’re brushing me off or you’re straight to the point. I like direct guys. Wanna fuck?”
And no, no he doesn’t. Not with this girl whose name he can’t remember because Spencer’s good at keeping track of the important things, not the silly bits that float around the fringes of their lives. But if Brendon can break the vows he’s insisted are so important, well, Spencer can too, especially since he’s been the one who’s maintained all along that this farce can only last for so long before reality got in the way and made it obvious that being married to someone you aren’t supposed to be with can never work.
“Sure,” Spencer says and she leads him into the women’s restroom, pushes him into a stall and pulls his head down to kiss her.
Her lip gloss is cinnamon flavoured and she’s too short, but Spencer kisses her anyway, long and hard and then, when his neck twinges in protest, picks her up and presses her against the wall. She wraps her legs around his waist and it makes Spencer think of every time Brendon had jumped on his back, demanding a piggyback and wrapping his legs around to cross his ankles over Spencer’s bellybutton.
“Do you have anything?” she asks, between kisses and Spencer shakes his head. She looks disappointed for a moment, then says, “okay, that’s okay, put me down, I wanna-” and then drops to her knees when Spencer lowers her back to the floor.
She grins up at him, a practiced wicked grin, and reaches for his belt buckle. She’s got it undone and is slowly pulling down the zipper of Spencer’s jeans when Spencer realises three things- one, he’s nowhere near hard, two, he’s about to walk out of this bathroom without getting laid and three, he’s looking down at her wondering what Brendon looks like from that angle.
“No, stop,” he says, and her hands fall away. She frowns up at him.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I can’t do this,” he says, and starts to buckle his belt back up. She reaches out and places a hand on his, stilling it.
“What are you, married or something?” she says. “Because it’s okay if you are.”
Spencer laughs. “Yeah,” he replies. “Yeah, I am actually. And it’s not okay. I have to go.”
He moves to open the door but she’s in the way and he has to hold down a hand to her, pulling her to her feet, before he can escape.
“Are you serious?” she asks, dusting herself off. “You’re turning this down?”
Spencer nods.
“Wow, that is really fucking gay.” She looks pissed off, even more so when Spencer laughs again because yeah, it really fucking is.
Spencer goes back to the bus and climbs into his bunk. He tries to sleep, but every time he closes his eyes he thinks about Brendon, head tipped back against a brick wall and the tech on his knees in front of him. He tosses and turns for awhile and must eventually fall asleep because he’s woken at some point later by his curtain being drawn back and Brendon whispering “Spence? Can I sleep with you tonight?”
Brendon smells like booze and weed and probably sex too, and Spencer hates Brendon then, for being the cause of this jealous creature in his chest, for all his insincere talk of vows and honouring them.
He knows Brendon can see he’s awake, but he just turns onto his side, away from Brendon, without a word.
There’s a pause, and then Brendon gets in behind him.
“You smell like cinnamon,” he says against Spencer’s neck and Spencer thinks of that girl, of the bathroom stall, and feels sick, guilty, like he’s done something wrong when it’s Brendon who started this whole thing.
Spencer doesn’t sleep, not with Brendon pressed hot and clingy along his back, and the next morning he’s in a pissy mood. Everyone seems to put it down to end of tour blues, and they avoid him as much as possible, which suits Spencer just fine. He avoids looking at the tech when they arrive at the airport, and doesn’t talk for the entirety of the flight other than to tell Brendon to stop being a baby when he sulks because Spencer took the window seat.
Spencer wants to talk to Ryan, even though he’s not sure what he’d say. He’s not sure how to voice ‘I could have gotten laid last night because Brendon was fucking some tech but I didn’t want to because I think I’m jealous of Brendon having sex with other people and I’m scared what that means’ and it’s a moot point anyway because Ryan and Jon are flying east for a few days before joining them back in LA to record.
They take a taxi from the airport to their house and the moment they get inside Shane gives Spencer a strange look, grabs a beer out of the fridge and hightails it into his room.
“Wanna hang out?” Brendon asks, dumping his back in the hallway.
Spencer doesn’t reply, just walks straight to their room and puts his bag near the laundry basket, ready to sort out in the morning. He sits down on the bed and unlaces his shoes carefully.
When he looks up Brendon is standing in the doorway, smiling. The smile slides off slowly as Spencer stares at him, and Brendon pushes himself away from the doorframe and fidgets.
“Uh, I’ll leave you alone then,” he says, and disappears back down the hallway.
Spencer goes straight to bed without bothering to shower, even though he can still smell and taste the cinnamon. He wakes up in the middle of the night and finds the mattress beside him empty, but he’s too tired to get up and check on Brendon, to see if he’s just caught up watching reruns on TV or playing an epic game of Halo, or if it’s something more serious that a glass of warm milk and someone to talk to might ease.
The next morning Shane leaves early, leaving Brendon and Spencer alone in the kitchen. Spencer’s buttering his toast when Brendon puts down his orange juice and says, “Have I pissed you off? Because I’m sorry if I have. I didn’t mean to. I don’t want you to be mad.”
Spencer wants to tell Brendon that yes, yes he has pissed him off, but this isn’t Brendon’s fault. It’s not Brendon’s fault that Spencer’s developing feelings he’s still not ready to admit to. It’s not Brendon’s fault he’s doing exactly what Spencer told him to do- go out and sleep with people, do what he’d do normally, ignore that stupid marriage license.
Spencer cuts his toast in half and offers a piece to Brendon.
“I’m not mad at you,” he says, and it’s mostly true. He’s pretty much just mad at himself.
Brendon hesitates, then takes the toast. “Thanks,” he says.
“It’s just tour, is all,” Spencer elaborates. “End of tour stuff. You know. It’s kinda crazy.”
Brendon nods earnestly. “I could sleep for a hundred days,” he says.
“Just not last night?” Spencer asks and Brendon doesn’t meet his eyes right away.
“I slept in the spare room,” he admits finally. “Thought maybe you wanted some space.”
Spencer stares at Brendon for a long moment and then sighs. “I had plenty of space on tour,” he tells him. “If you want to go on sharing a room, we should.”
Brendon frowns. “Why wouldn’t I want to? It’s easier to steal your shirts if they’re in the same wardrobe as mine anyway.”
Spencer makes a face and Brendon laughs.
“We’re good, right?” Brendon asks after a moment. “I mean, tour can be weird anyway. Touring as a married couple is-”
“No different than touring used to be,” Spencer says, and Brendon hesitates for a moment, before nodding.
“Okay then,” he says. “Hey, want to pick the dogs up and take them to the beach for the day?”
Spencer really, really does.
~~~
“Wanna watch some porn?” Brendon asks one night when they’re sitting around doing nothing and watching TV. They’ve been back from tour for four days, and it’s been weeks since they’ve watched any together.
“Sure,” Spencer says and Brendon grins as he gets up and puts on what Spencer’s realising is his favourite DVD. He has it hidden in a case entitled Ryan’s Favourite Moulin Rouge Clips and according to Brendon the only person who’s ever accidentally seen it was Pete, who’d picked it up last time he visited, and had posted it back with a post-it saying ‘Nice, Patrick says thanks’ stuck to the front.
It’s a good porno, Spencer has to admit. The boomchickawowows are kept to a minimum and there’s not much of a bad attempt at a plot- it’s just two hot guys getting it on and the few times Spencer’s seen it before, he’s enjoyed it.
Except today, as he watches, he can’t help but wonder if that’s what Brendon and that tech had done. If the tech had kissed his way down Brendon’s spine and then slid a hand around to wrap his fingers around Brendon’s dick. If Brendon had arched into the touch and if he’d turned and kissed the tech hungrily, if he’d wrapped his own hand around the hand holding him.
Spencer tries to concentrate on what’s on screen, but Brendon’s making those tiny little sighs that Spencer’s not even sure he knows he makes. It makes him wonder if that’s what Brendon had sounded like, and really he has no right to think about any of this.
He swallows hard and stands up. He can feel Brendon’s eyes on him as he leaves the room and walks purposefully towards their bedroom. He lies down on the bed and stares at the ceiling and tries to think of anything but Brendon, anything unsexy. He’s skipped past math homework and having to kiss his great aunt Sally and every boring sport he can think of until he remembers that time when he was nine and Ryan was ten and Ryan had dressed up in Spencer’s mom’s clothing and had made the ugliest girl in the world ever and made Spencer dance with him. It makes Spencer pull a face and then laugh and that’s when the knock on the door comes.
“Spence?” Brendon asks as he pushes the door open. He has his hand across his eyes, peeping between his fingers and it makes Spencer almost smile. “Are you okay?”
He sees Spencer lying on the bed, fully clothed and drops his hand. “Oh!” he says. “I thought you might be. Um. You know.”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. “No.”
“We could watch something else, if you want?” Brendon suggests and Spencer realises that Brendon should still be watching the movie, should be getting his rocks off somehow.
“Nah. You go and watch,” Spencer says and Brendon shakes his head.
“We watch together,” he reminds Spencer and Spencer sighs.
“I don’t want to, anymore.”
Brendon nods. “Okay. Fair enough. Some other time then?”
Spencer’s about to nod but he shakes his head instead. “No. I. I don’t think we should do that anymore. I mean…it’s kinda weird. Right?”
Brendon’s face falls and then his big fake smile is in place. “Oh. Sure,” he says. “Whatever you want. Yeah. It probably is weird.”
Spencer nods and Brendon sits down at the edge of the bed. Neither of them say anything for a long moment.
“Hey,” Spencer says. “Wanna hear about the time Ryan dressed up in a black bra and high heels and did a song from Cabaret?”
Brendon grins, a real smile slowly spreading across his face and almost reaching his eyes.
“Always,” he says and Spencer laughs and tells him, and then they call Ryan up and mock him for a little while and it’s fun.
It stops being fun when Spencer wakes up one morning and realises it’s been two weeks since he last jerked off and he’s pretty sure Brendon hasn’t in awhile either. Not that he’s with Brendon constantly, but he knows Brendon well enough to know when the jitteriness that lives under his skin is because of pent up nerves or energy or something else.
It’s not that they can’t do anything about it- they still take showers and have toilet breaks and are by themselves in the house for periods of time where they could take five minutes to beat off. But it feels even weirder now than it did before and Spencer wonders if he’s fucked things up completely. Even though there’s really not anything more than friendship to fuck up.
He’s considered talking to Brendon about it. How Brendon had somehow managed to invoke the 150 mile rule even when Spencer was there on tour with him and how he should be able to fuck whoever he wants, whenever he wants, regardless of what a drunken mistake and the resulting piece of paper says. But Spencer can’t bring himself to say anything. Whether it’s because he wants to avoid an awkward conversation or because he doesn’t want Brendon to sleep with anyone, he’s still not sure although more and more he’s beginning to admit to himself these are feelings that he has no right to be having.
Spencer gets out of bed. The mattress beside him is cold which means Brendon’s been up for awhile and there’s no sound of running water from the bathroom. Spencer pulls on a t-shirt and heads towards the kitchen. He can hear voices- Brendon, and Shane too, probably enjoying breakfast. Spencer’s about to push open the door and step inside when he hears Brendon complain, “I need to get laid.”
It makes Spencer hesitate, hand resting against the door handle.
"The porn not doing it for you?" he hears Shane ask and Brendon makes a frustrated noise. Spencer can't see his face, but he can imagine his expression, how he's rubbing his hand through his already messy hair.
“We don’t do that anymore,” he says, voice sounding a little strained.
"Dude," Shane says after a beat. "Go out and get laid then."
"You know I can't do that," Brendon tells him.
"Spencer won't mind," Shane points out and Spencer almost laughs at how wrong Shane is.
There's a pause. "I know," Brendon says, eventually, and Spencer wishes he could see their faces now, could see why it took him so long to respond. "But that's not the point. I'll mind."
Spencer inhales sharply. For a giddy moment he wonders if Brendon will mind for the same reasons Spencer probably might mind, if he was willing to admit it to himself, but then he hears Shane curiously say "Oh?" and Brendon laughs.
"The vows dude. That's all. I made a promise and I'm going to keep it. It's not. You know."
"You sure?" Shane questions and there's another long pause.
"Fuck off," Brendon says. "I'm not having this conversation again."
"You know your own mind better than I do," Shane agrees, but there's a hint of something he's not saying in his voice. “Didn’t you hook up with some tech on tour anyway?”
“No,” Brendon says quickly. Too quickly, Spencer thinks, and wishes again he could see Brendon’s face. “No. I was just…it was nice to flirt with someone. It’s nice to get attention, to feel wanted.”
Shane snorts. “You have hundreds of screaming girls watching you every night, blogging about you and writing weird shit,” he points out.
“You know what I mean,” Brendon says, sounding exasperated. “I feel like one of those 50s housewives who worry they’re not desirable anymore.”
“You would look hot in a full skirt and red lipstick,” Shane replies and then exclaims, “ow!” when Brendon presumably punches him.
“I’m married and I’m not having sex and it’s kind of frustrating,” Brendon tells him. “So, man, sorry if I liked the attention from that dude. Nothing happened though. I made vows, Shane. And I’m going to keep them, even if Spencer doesn’t.”
There’s another long pause.
“Have you thought about telling Spencer how you feel?” Shane asks.
“I don’t-”
“About this whole sex issue,” Shane adds hurriedly. “Not…anything else.”
“There is nothing else,” Brendon says firmly. “Honest. Stop looking at me like that, Shane.”
“I’m just saying-”
Brendon sighs. “I know. But I don’t think there’s a solution to this. There’s nothing he can do to make me want to break those vows. And telling him would just make things more awkward than they are. I’m forcing the guy to be married to me, holding him back from his own life just so I don’t disappoint my family. He’s doing me a favour so the least I can do is not whine to him about it.”
“Whatever you want, dude,” Shane says and then all Spencer can hear is the sound of crockery and cutlery being moved around so he figures it’s safe to enter.
He stretches and yawns as he pushes open the door and notices the way Brendon’s eyes grow a little wider when he sees Spencer, how he glances worriedly at Shane.
“Morning,” Spencer declares, nudging Shane out of the way with his hip so he can get at the coffee pot. He tries not to give Brendon too considering a look when he sits down at the kitchen table, mug clutched in his hand, even though Brendon is watching him and frowning a little.
Spencer wants to tell Brendon that he doesn’t mind being married to him, that he wishes it were easier, that he’ll figure out a solution to the situation. But instead he gives Brendon a sleepy smile and says, “What’ve you guys got planned for today?”
Shane has a meeting to go to, and Brendon has some songs he wants to work on, so Spencer spends the day in the music room, offering input and taking advantage of Brendon going to grab them both lunch to wail on the drums for a bit. It makes his shoulders ache and his fingers sore, but he feels better, even if inside his head he’s more confused than ever.
On to Part 3.