fic: spencer smith superhero extraordinaire (brendon/spencer)
Firts fic of the new year \o/
Title: Spencer Smith Superhero Extraordinaire
Rating: PG
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer
POV: 3rd
Summary: The boys have a photo shoot, Jon misses his cats, Ryan does not like argyle, Brendon has a green crisis, it’s up to Spencer to save the day. Again.
Word Count: 3107
Disclaimer: Sadly enough they’re not mine and this is just a work of fiction : (
A/N: *giggles madly* Because I like to believe this band does not function without the awesomeness that is Spencer Smith :)
ETA: A big thanks to xdametokillforx for doing an awesome beta job on this.
xposted to slashatthediscoand
bandslashmania
Spencer is late to their photo shoot; actually, he’s on time, but considering his band’s tendency towards giving into melodramatics when he’s not around, being on time is equal to being late. He rushes into the studio and does a quick scan of the room and feels himself relax.
He adjusts the bags he’s carrying on his shoulder which contain what he hopes is whatever he will need to avoid any tragedies that are surely to occur at some point in the day. Spencer walks further into the studio.
There is no one on fire, crying or screaming so he counts that as a win. He’s not sure what it is about photo shoots, but they always bring the drama queen out of every member of the band. Well, except for Spencer, who needs to keep a level head to deal with everyone’s crisis and get them through a photo shoot.
“Finally,” he hears someone say. Spencer turns, spots Zack walking towards him, and immediately tenses again. Zack takes the duffle bag and messenger bag from Spencer.
“Equipment?” Zack asks.
“Equipment,” Spencer confirms, then “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“I tried but we had an emergency as soon as we stepped out of the bus,” Zack says and continues. “Did you see what’s in front of the studio?”
Spencer shakes his head; he had been too busy scrambling out of the bus to notice much else.
“A jungle gym.” The way he says it makes it sound like he believes someone did that on purpose just to make his life harder. Spencer coughs to cover up his laugh.
“As soon as I saw that I knew I had to be on Brendon like white on rice,” Zack continues. “And seriously, what did his mom feed that kid? One minute I’m guiding him inside, and the next he’s off like a bullet and in the fucking jungle gym racing Jon to the monkey bars. And you know how Jon is with Brendon; no help there.”
This is true, because even though they are all really close friends Jon has always handled Brendon with the protectiveness of a big brother. Jon can never say no to Brendon.
“By the time I managed to get them into the studio my priority became keeping them in here,” Zack finishes.
“Okay, so what’s the damage?” Spencer asks, knowing the relative calm is too good to be true.
Spencer and Zack are a team, so Zack wastes no time on giving Spencer the quick and dirty. “Ryan is throwing a fit. He refuses to wear anything wardrobe has shown him and he won’t tell them why. Jon is pouting and I think he’s, genuinely, about two minutes away from water works.”
Spencer nods and stares at Zack, waiting for him to finish. When Zack says nothing more, Spencer sighs. “And Brendon?” he asks, expecting the worst.
“Uncharacteristically out of trouble,” Zack says slowly, almost reluctantly as he fights the urge to look around to see if his words have jinxed them. He may even be holding his breath a little.
And who would blame him? Not Spencer. But okay, he has diva Ryan to deal with and a sad Jon; that’s not too bad. He can handle this no problem.
Spencer nods to Zack and goes off to fix his band mates. He goes after Jon first because Jon is always the easiest if he gets to him on time.
The thing about Jon is that he’s an honest to God, cheerful guy all the time, so when he’s upset about something he usually means it. Therefore, if Jon isn’t snapped out of his sad funk, and quickly, there is nothing short of an emergency trip to see his cats that will fix it.
“Hey, why the long face?” Spencer asks when he finds Jon. Jon is sitting on a treasure chest, which Spencer assumes is props for later.
Jon sighs and his shoulders slump a little and there is nothing in the world more sad than a sad Jon. “I just miss my cats,” he admits softly and his gaze goes off to the right.
Following his gaze, Spencer spots a puppy, and he wonders if the puppy is a prop as well. The puppy is playing eagerly with what looks like a shoe. Spencer cringes; shoes are not to be treated as chew toys, ever, but he pushes away his feelings of outrage to concentrate on Jon.
“Why don’t you go say hi to them, then?” Spencer takes a seat next to Jon on the treasure chest.
Jon turns and gives him a look. “Spence, I can’t just leave the photo shoot and hop a flight to Chicago, just to say hi to my cats,” he says reasonably, except for the fact that he would definitely do that if he didn’t feel like he was letting the band down.
That’s why they love Jon Walker; he can be as crazy and impulsive as Brendon but also completely responsible, like Spencer.
“I didn’t mean fly out. Remember the web cam we set up for you at home? I brought my lap-top; you can use it and check on them before we have to start taking pictures,” Spencer suggests.
The change in Jon is instantaneous; he sits up straighter and his face just beams, like sunshine breaking through a cloudy day. Spencer may be spending a little too much time watching Disney movies with Brendon if he’s thinking about similes having to do with the sun and Jon’s smile.
“Oh my God, I totally forgot about that. Spencer, you are the best,” Jon exclaims as he hops off the treasure chest. Once on his feet, he looks at Spencer expectantly.
“Zack has it.” Jon gives Spencer a bone-crushing hug before he leaves. The sound of his flip-flops slapping cheerfully as he dashes to find Zack makes Spencer smile.
One down, one to go.
Spencer finds Ryan in the changing room. There is a girl with him, who must be in charge of wardrobe. Spencer looks at the two and he isn’t sure if Ryan or the girl is closer to tears.
“No, I said I want to wear a pattern shirt,” Ryan says, and only their years of friendship allow Spencer to know that Ryan is using his frustrated voice. The only outward sign he gives is a small sigh.
Both Ryan and the wardrobe girl are completely oblivious to Spencer, who sneaks in and starts riffling through the clothes on the Z-rack in the corner of the room. The other clothing rack, the one the girl is taking clothes from to show to Ryan, is conveniently in the way so he doesn’t have to worry too much about them seeing him.
“Okay, patterns. How about argyle? This blue one would look great on you.” Spencer hears her say, her voice desperate.
“No, not like that, I like patterns with the, the--” Ryan says, and Spencer doesn’t have to be looking at them to know that Ryan is actually flailing.
And this is possibly Ryan’s greatest bane; he has the ability to write metaphors about life into witty lyrics that no one gets but Ryan and possibly Pete Wentz, but ask him to remember anything else and his mind goes blank.
Everything becomes, “You know, that purple one with the things,” as Ryan would say to Brendon when ordering his favorite drink at the Smoothie Hut, or:
“Spencer I need more eye liner,” Ryan says holding three full tubes in his hand. Spencer rolls his eyes. “No, not eye liner, EYE liner. The eye liner I use to draw the birds.”
OR:
“I like her,” Ryan says at the VMAs with a goofy smile.
“Which one?” Brendon asks.
“The dancer,” Ryan says unhelpfully.
Spencer rolls his eyes. “Which one?”
“The blonde one with the--” flaily hands, again, “legs.”
“Oh my God. If I ever go missing, don’t ever let Ryan give a description of me,” Spencer states.
Brendon giggles. “He’d be like; he’s tall with the,” Brendon flails his hands like Ryan had earlier, “hips.”
In short Ryan became kind of... inarticulate. So, it’s no surprise to Spencer how Ryan is completely failing to tell this poor girl what he wants to wear.
“No, I don’t like this argyle thing. I like patterns with the, the thing that looks like half of a yin-yang, you know,” Ryan finishes lamely.
Spencer almost laughs at that. He pulls out a few more shirts from the rack and nonchalantly walks over to the Z-rack the girl is taking clothes from and hangs them on the rack.
“Umm no, but I’ve seen pictures from your shows and I have shirts with prints. Do you like roses? Because I saw this one picture of you and you had a rose vest on,” she says.
Shitshitshit. They do not talk about the rose vest anymore; that’s a no-no topic. Spencer watches Ryan’s face trying to turn an impressive magenta color. It would be comical if it wasn’t an indicative that he has about five seconds before Ryan really blows up.
“Hello!” He greets them cheerfully, pretending he just stepped into the room. “Are you ready for me?” Spencer asks the girl, and makes it a point to grab one of the shirts he placed on the rack and starts playing with the sleeve.
“No, actually; would you mind going into hair and makeup first?” she asks.
Though Spencer is paying more attention to the way Ryan has straightened in his chair and is eyeing the shirt Spencer is playing with.
“What is that?” Ryan asks, pointing to the shirt, his voice trembling a little with excitement. Well, to Spencer it sounds like excitement; to the girl it probably sounds like Ryan’s normal monotone.
She turns to see the shirt Spencer is playing with and turns back to Ryan. “The paisley shirt?” she asks slowly, the desperate hope clear in her voice.
“Paisley,” Ryan parrots and stands to move closer to the clothing rack. “I like paisley,” Ryan says he gives the shirts a quick scan and nods his head. “I’ll wear one of these.”
“Oh, thank God.”
Neither one hears Spencer laughter as he walks out of the room. Spencer sighs and fights the urge to pump his fist in the air; that would be so dorky, and besides, he’s already doing mental cartwheels anyway. Two tragedies avoided and he feels like he climbed a small mountain, or at least a steep hill.
Spencer heads over to hair and makeup where Brendon is talking cheerfully with the hair and makeup guy. It seems like they really hit it off. And Spencer would feel jealous, but why would he? He’s the one who gets to take Brendon home at the end of the day.
As Spencer approaches he hears the one question that will start more drama than that of Jon and Ryan.
“Does the hairspray have CFC's?” Brendon asks his voice pleasant, not giving the guy any warning as to what his answer should be.
“Um. Sure! Tons!” The guy replies before Spencer can intervene and tell him how bad that answer is. Too late now, he will see soon enough; actually, they all will see.
“What?” Brendon squawks, flails and somehow still manages not to fall off his chair, though there is some comical stumbling.
“How could you?” Brendon asks outraged, he snatches the can of hairspray from the guy’s hand. The guy takes a step back looking afraid of the tiny, but furious, person before him.
“I can’t let you increase my carbon foot print by using this on me. Or on anyone else.” Brendon turns to the makeup table and grabs all the hairspray cans he can find, which are a lot.
“Now, where can I get rid of these?” Brendon asks, while he struggles to keep all the aluminum hairspray cans in his arms.
“Uh there’s a garbage bin behind the-”
“Ahh!” Brendon screeches before storming off, mumbling about careless people and the dangers of CFC’s and the importance of disposing of hazardous waste products in an environmentally-friendly manner.
Spencer sighs and stares after Brendon. Can’t win them all, Spencer thinks while trying not to glare at the makeup guy.
“What the hell are CFC’s?” The makeup guy asks.
“ChloroFluoroCarbons,” Spencer answers with the lackluster tone of someone who has answered that question more times then he’d like. The guy gives him a confused look. “They deplete the ozone layer,” Spencer further explains sounding like a, well rehearsed, after school special.
“Oh, so is he one of those people?” he asks. Spencer doesn’t need him to elaborate he knows exactly what he means.
“Not really,” Spencer answers, and makes a mental note to let Zack know Brendon is no longer allowed to have unsupervised conversations with one Andrew John Hurley.
Five minutes later everyone is running around trying to find Brendon. Spencer knows Brendon is hiding. Brendon is hiding because he most likely found out they don’t have a recycling system set up in the studio and when things don’t go Brendon’s way he likes to sulk in solitude, preferably in a small space with a lock.
Brendon has done this before, and not even in the wake of a tantrum, but simply because he is Brendon, a small guy who can fit into tiny places. In fact, Brendon will purposely find the smallest places he can fit in and hide, just because he can. Like the time he hid in a cupboard, under some freaking stairs, because he wanted to see how Harry-fucking-Potter had lived.
With this information in mind, Spencer goes to find Zack. He finds Zack rather quickly, since the other man is looking for him as well.
“Bathroom? Changing room?” Spencer asks as soon as he sees Zack. “Or, please don’t tell me he found a cupboard.”
Zack shakes his head. “No, broom closet. End of the hall,” Zack says, pointing. “Jon’s already trying to talk to him.”
Spencer nods. That’s good; Jon can keep Brendon’s hysterics from escalating. Spencer quickly forms a plan in his head and turns to Zack. “Okay this is what we need to do.”
Ten minutes later, Spencer is walking to the broom closet with a can of CFC-free hairspray.
“Come on B, if you come out now you can say hi to Clover and Dylan,” Spencer hears Jon say.
“No. Jonny Walker, they’re killing the ozone layer and they don’t even care. Come in here and protest with me.” Brendon’s voice is muffled through the wooden door but even that can’t hide the tremble in voice.
“Bden,” Jon says quietly.
“Hey,” Spencer says placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I got this.”
Jon turns and stands in front of the door with his arms crossed. Spencer blinks; Jon seriously looks like a mother hen protecting her young. But then Jon remembers this is Spencer and if he can trust anyone with Bden, it's Spencer. He uncrosses his arms and pats Spencer on the shoulder.
“Good luck,” he says before walking away.
“Brendon,” Spencer says, and feels stupid when he knocks on the door.
“Go away, Spencer.” Brendon sniffles, and it really breaks Spencer’s heart. He knows Brendon goes through phases like people go through their junk mail. But regardless of what phase Brendon goes through, he always means it with his whole heart. Spencer knows that Brendon is truly hurt by people not caring about the environment.
“Brendon, come on. Open the door and talk to me,” Spencer says his voice soft.
“No, you’ll distract me with your blue eyes and your amazing hips,” Brendon says through the door.
Spencer hears a few chuckles behind him and he realizes there’s a small crowd gathered around the hall in front of the broom closet. Spencer turns briefly from the closed door to look at everyone around him.
“Do. You. Mind.” Three little words and one well placed bitch look and people are scrambling to get away from Spencer.
Once the hall is cleared, Spencer turns back to the door.
“Brendon, come on out,” Spencer says again. It’s time to see if his plan will work he says, “I went on Google and found a recycling center near here; Zack says we can stop by after the photo shoot, so we can get rid of the cans in a safe manner,” Spencer says trying to coax Brendon from his hiding place.
“Really?” Brendon asks his voice tiny and muffled.
“Really. And we also got someone to go out and buy cans of hairspray, CFC-free. If you open the door, I’ll show you.”
“You’re not just saying that?” Which is a fair question; not one of them is above using dirty tricks to get things done.
“No, see.” And Spencer starts reading off the grocery list of eco- friendly compounds on the can, some of which he can’t even pronounce.
He’s at the fourth ingredient when the door opens. He starts to smile but it dies on his lips when he’s yanked forward. Brendon is pulling him inside and then pushing him onto the door, which slams shut.
“Brendon,” Spencer says in a rush as Brendon presses his body flush against Spencer’s.
“I love it when you talk organic to me,” Brendon says, smiling, before he kisses Spencer. The can of hairspray clutters to the floor when Spencer decides his hands can be put to better use, like cupping the back of Brendon’s head while he kisses him.
Spencer and Brendon are still in the closet ten minutes later. And Zack should have known better than to leave Spencer anywhere near Brendon and a room with a locking door. If Spencer Smith were a superhero his kryptonite would be Brendon Urie, every single time.
There’s a giggle from the other side of the door followed by thump and a groan, that Zack is one hundred percent sure is not from pain. A production assistant chooses that moment to walk over.
“Are they still arguing?” she asks, looking at the closed door.
“They’re talking it out.” And just then they hear a really loud moan from inside and Zack is so tired of feeling embarrassed for other people’s kids. He clears his throat. “Let’s um, given them ten minutes,” he says loudly.
“Fifteen,” he hears from inside. That must be Brendon; seriously, that kid, give him an inch and he’ll take a fucking mile.
“Five,” Zack counters.
“Ten’s good,” is the immediate response.
Zack grins and counts his small triumph and quickly ushers the production assistant away before the noises from the closet get louder.
Title: Spencer Smith Superhero Extraordinaire
Rating: PG
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer
POV: 3rd
Summary: The boys have a photo shoot, Jon misses his cats, Ryan does not like argyle, Brendon has a green crisis, it’s up to Spencer to save the day. Again.
Word Count: 3107
Disclaimer: Sadly enough they’re not mine and this is just a work of fiction : (
A/N: *giggles madly* Because I like to believe this band does not function without the awesomeness that is Spencer Smith :)
ETA: A big thanks to xdametokillforx for doing an awesome beta job on this.
xposted to slashatthediscoand
bandslashmania
Spencer is late to their photo shoot; actually, he’s on time, but considering his band’s tendency towards giving into melodramatics when he’s not around, being on time is equal to being late. He rushes into the studio and does a quick scan of the room and feels himself relax.
He adjusts the bags he’s carrying on his shoulder which contain what he hopes is whatever he will need to avoid any tragedies that are surely to occur at some point in the day. Spencer walks further into the studio.
There is no one on fire, crying or screaming so he counts that as a win. He’s not sure what it is about photo shoots, but they always bring the drama queen out of every member of the band. Well, except for Spencer, who needs to keep a level head to deal with everyone’s crisis and get them through a photo shoot.
“Finally,” he hears someone say. Spencer turns, spots Zack walking towards him, and immediately tenses again. Zack takes the duffle bag and messenger bag from Spencer.
“Equipment?” Zack asks.
“Equipment,” Spencer confirms, then “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“I tried but we had an emergency as soon as we stepped out of the bus,” Zack says and continues. “Did you see what’s in front of the studio?”
Spencer shakes his head; he had been too busy scrambling out of the bus to notice much else.
“A jungle gym.” The way he says it makes it sound like he believes someone did that on purpose just to make his life harder. Spencer coughs to cover up his laugh.
“As soon as I saw that I knew I had to be on Brendon like white on rice,” Zack continues. “And seriously, what did his mom feed that kid? One minute I’m guiding him inside, and the next he’s off like a bullet and in the fucking jungle gym racing Jon to the monkey bars. And you know how Jon is with Brendon; no help there.”
This is true, because even though they are all really close friends Jon has always handled Brendon with the protectiveness of a big brother. Jon can never say no to Brendon.
“By the time I managed to get them into the studio my priority became keeping them in here,” Zack finishes.
“Okay, so what’s the damage?” Spencer asks, knowing the relative calm is too good to be true.
Spencer and Zack are a team, so Zack wastes no time on giving Spencer the quick and dirty. “Ryan is throwing a fit. He refuses to wear anything wardrobe has shown him and he won’t tell them why. Jon is pouting and I think he’s, genuinely, about two minutes away from water works.”
Spencer nods and stares at Zack, waiting for him to finish. When Zack says nothing more, Spencer sighs. “And Brendon?” he asks, expecting the worst.
“Uncharacteristically out of trouble,” Zack says slowly, almost reluctantly as he fights the urge to look around to see if his words have jinxed them. He may even be holding his breath a little.
And who would blame him? Not Spencer. But okay, he has diva Ryan to deal with and a sad Jon; that’s not too bad. He can handle this no problem.
Spencer nods to Zack and goes off to fix his band mates. He goes after Jon first because Jon is always the easiest if he gets to him on time.
The thing about Jon is that he’s an honest to God, cheerful guy all the time, so when he’s upset about something he usually means it. Therefore, if Jon isn’t snapped out of his sad funk, and quickly, there is nothing short of an emergency trip to see his cats that will fix it.
“Hey, why the long face?” Spencer asks when he finds Jon. Jon is sitting on a treasure chest, which Spencer assumes is props for later.
Jon sighs and his shoulders slump a little and there is nothing in the world more sad than a sad Jon. “I just miss my cats,” he admits softly and his gaze goes off to the right.
Following his gaze, Spencer spots a puppy, and he wonders if the puppy is a prop as well. The puppy is playing eagerly with what looks like a shoe. Spencer cringes; shoes are not to be treated as chew toys, ever, but he pushes away his feelings of outrage to concentrate on Jon.
“Why don’t you go say hi to them, then?” Spencer takes a seat next to Jon on the treasure chest.
Jon turns and gives him a look. “Spence, I can’t just leave the photo shoot and hop a flight to Chicago, just to say hi to my cats,” he says reasonably, except for the fact that he would definitely do that if he didn’t feel like he was letting the band down.
That’s why they love Jon Walker; he can be as crazy and impulsive as Brendon but also completely responsible, like Spencer.
“I didn’t mean fly out. Remember the web cam we set up for you at home? I brought my lap-top; you can use it and check on them before we have to start taking pictures,” Spencer suggests.
The change in Jon is instantaneous; he sits up straighter and his face just beams, like sunshine breaking through a cloudy day. Spencer may be spending a little too much time watching Disney movies with Brendon if he’s thinking about similes having to do with the sun and Jon’s smile.
“Oh my God, I totally forgot about that. Spencer, you are the best,” Jon exclaims as he hops off the treasure chest. Once on his feet, he looks at Spencer expectantly.
“Zack has it.” Jon gives Spencer a bone-crushing hug before he leaves. The sound of his flip-flops slapping cheerfully as he dashes to find Zack makes Spencer smile.
One down, one to go.
Spencer finds Ryan in the changing room. There is a girl with him, who must be in charge of wardrobe. Spencer looks at the two and he isn’t sure if Ryan or the girl is closer to tears.
“No, I said I want to wear a pattern shirt,” Ryan says, and only their years of friendship allow Spencer to know that Ryan is using his frustrated voice. The only outward sign he gives is a small sigh.
Both Ryan and the wardrobe girl are completely oblivious to Spencer, who sneaks in and starts riffling through the clothes on the Z-rack in the corner of the room. The other clothing rack, the one the girl is taking clothes from to show to Ryan, is conveniently in the way so he doesn’t have to worry too much about them seeing him.
“Okay, patterns. How about argyle? This blue one would look great on you.” Spencer hears her say, her voice desperate.
“No, not like that, I like patterns with the, the--” Ryan says, and Spencer doesn’t have to be looking at them to know that Ryan is actually flailing.
And this is possibly Ryan’s greatest bane; he has the ability to write metaphors about life into witty lyrics that no one gets but Ryan and possibly Pete Wentz, but ask him to remember anything else and his mind goes blank.
Everything becomes, “You know, that purple one with the things,” as Ryan would say to Brendon when ordering his favorite drink at the Smoothie Hut, or:
“Spencer I need more eye liner,” Ryan says holding three full tubes in his hand. Spencer rolls his eyes. “No, not eye liner, EYE liner. The eye liner I use to draw the birds.”
OR:
“I like her,” Ryan says at the VMAs with a goofy smile.
“Which one?” Brendon asks.
“The dancer,” Ryan says unhelpfully.
Spencer rolls his eyes. “Which one?”
“The blonde one with the--” flaily hands, again, “legs.”
“Oh my God. If I ever go missing, don’t ever let Ryan give a description of me,” Spencer states.
Brendon giggles. “He’d be like; he’s tall with the,” Brendon flails his hands like Ryan had earlier, “hips.”
In short Ryan became kind of... inarticulate. So, it’s no surprise to Spencer how Ryan is completely failing to tell this poor girl what he wants to wear.
“No, I don’t like this argyle thing. I like patterns with the, the thing that looks like half of a yin-yang, you know,” Ryan finishes lamely.
Spencer almost laughs at that. He pulls out a few more shirts from the rack and nonchalantly walks over to the Z-rack the girl is taking clothes from and hangs them on the rack.
“Umm no, but I’ve seen pictures from your shows and I have shirts with prints. Do you like roses? Because I saw this one picture of you and you had a rose vest on,” she says.
Shitshitshit. They do not talk about the rose vest anymore; that’s a no-no topic. Spencer watches Ryan’s face trying to turn an impressive magenta color. It would be comical if it wasn’t an indicative that he has about five seconds before Ryan really blows up.
“Hello!” He greets them cheerfully, pretending he just stepped into the room. “Are you ready for me?” Spencer asks the girl, and makes it a point to grab one of the shirts he placed on the rack and starts playing with the sleeve.
“No, actually; would you mind going into hair and makeup first?” she asks.
Though Spencer is paying more attention to the way Ryan has straightened in his chair and is eyeing the shirt Spencer is playing with.
“What is that?” Ryan asks, pointing to the shirt, his voice trembling a little with excitement. Well, to Spencer it sounds like excitement; to the girl it probably sounds like Ryan’s normal monotone.
She turns to see the shirt Spencer is playing with and turns back to Ryan. “The paisley shirt?” she asks slowly, the desperate hope clear in her voice.
“Paisley,” Ryan parrots and stands to move closer to the clothing rack. “I like paisley,” Ryan says he gives the shirts a quick scan and nods his head. “I’ll wear one of these.”
“Oh, thank God.”
Neither one hears Spencer laughter as he walks out of the room. Spencer sighs and fights the urge to pump his fist in the air; that would be so dorky, and besides, he’s already doing mental cartwheels anyway. Two tragedies avoided and he feels like he climbed a small mountain, or at least a steep hill.
Spencer heads over to hair and makeup where Brendon is talking cheerfully with the hair and makeup guy. It seems like they really hit it off. And Spencer would feel jealous, but why would he? He’s the one who gets to take Brendon home at the end of the day.
As Spencer approaches he hears the one question that will start more drama than that of Jon and Ryan.
“Does the hairspray have CFC's?” Brendon asks his voice pleasant, not giving the guy any warning as to what his answer should be.
“Um. Sure! Tons!” The guy replies before Spencer can intervene and tell him how bad that answer is. Too late now, he will see soon enough; actually, they all will see.
“What?” Brendon squawks, flails and somehow still manages not to fall off his chair, though there is some comical stumbling.
“How could you?” Brendon asks outraged, he snatches the can of hairspray from the guy’s hand. The guy takes a step back looking afraid of the tiny, but furious, person before him.
“I can’t let you increase my carbon foot print by using this on me. Or on anyone else.” Brendon turns to the makeup table and grabs all the hairspray cans he can find, which are a lot.
“Now, where can I get rid of these?” Brendon asks, while he struggles to keep all the aluminum hairspray cans in his arms.
“Uh there’s a garbage bin behind the-”
“Ahh!” Brendon screeches before storming off, mumbling about careless people and the dangers of CFC’s and the importance of disposing of hazardous waste products in an environmentally-friendly manner.
Spencer sighs and stares after Brendon. Can’t win them all, Spencer thinks while trying not to glare at the makeup guy.
“What the hell are CFC’s?” The makeup guy asks.
“ChloroFluoroCarbons,” Spencer answers with the lackluster tone of someone who has answered that question more times then he’d like. The guy gives him a confused look. “They deplete the ozone layer,” Spencer further explains sounding like a, well rehearsed, after school special.
“Oh, so is he one of those people?” he asks. Spencer doesn’t need him to elaborate he knows exactly what he means.
“Not really,” Spencer answers, and makes a mental note to let Zack know Brendon is no longer allowed to have unsupervised conversations with one Andrew John Hurley.
Five minutes later everyone is running around trying to find Brendon. Spencer knows Brendon is hiding. Brendon is hiding because he most likely found out they don’t have a recycling system set up in the studio and when things don’t go Brendon’s way he likes to sulk in solitude, preferably in a small space with a lock.
Brendon has done this before, and not even in the wake of a tantrum, but simply because he is Brendon, a small guy who can fit into tiny places. In fact, Brendon will purposely find the smallest places he can fit in and hide, just because he can. Like the time he hid in a cupboard, under some freaking stairs, because he wanted to see how Harry-fucking-Potter had lived.
With this information in mind, Spencer goes to find Zack. He finds Zack rather quickly, since the other man is looking for him as well.
“Bathroom? Changing room?” Spencer asks as soon as he sees Zack. “Or, please don’t tell me he found a cupboard.”
Zack shakes his head. “No, broom closet. End of the hall,” Zack says, pointing. “Jon’s already trying to talk to him.”
Spencer nods. That’s good; Jon can keep Brendon’s hysterics from escalating. Spencer quickly forms a plan in his head and turns to Zack. “Okay this is what we need to do.”
Ten minutes later, Spencer is walking to the broom closet with a can of CFC-free hairspray.
“Come on B, if you come out now you can say hi to Clover and Dylan,” Spencer hears Jon say.
“No. Jonny Walker, they’re killing the ozone layer and they don’t even care. Come in here and protest with me.” Brendon’s voice is muffled through the wooden door but even that can’t hide the tremble in voice.
“Bden,” Jon says quietly.
“Hey,” Spencer says placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I got this.”
Jon turns and stands in front of the door with his arms crossed. Spencer blinks; Jon seriously looks like a mother hen protecting her young. But then Jon remembers this is Spencer and if he can trust anyone with Bden, it's Spencer. He uncrosses his arms and pats Spencer on the shoulder.
“Good luck,” he says before walking away.
“Brendon,” Spencer says, and feels stupid when he knocks on the door.
“Go away, Spencer.” Brendon sniffles, and it really breaks Spencer’s heart. He knows Brendon goes through phases like people go through their junk mail. But regardless of what phase Brendon goes through, he always means it with his whole heart. Spencer knows that Brendon is truly hurt by people not caring about the environment.
“Brendon, come on. Open the door and talk to me,” Spencer says his voice soft.
“No, you’ll distract me with your blue eyes and your amazing hips,” Brendon says through the door.
Spencer hears a few chuckles behind him and he realizes there’s a small crowd gathered around the hall in front of the broom closet. Spencer turns briefly from the closed door to look at everyone around him.
“Do. You. Mind.” Three little words and one well placed bitch look and people are scrambling to get away from Spencer.
Once the hall is cleared, Spencer turns back to the door.
“Brendon, come on out,” Spencer says again. It’s time to see if his plan will work he says, “I went on Google and found a recycling center near here; Zack says we can stop by after the photo shoot, so we can get rid of the cans in a safe manner,” Spencer says trying to coax Brendon from his hiding place.
“Really?” Brendon asks his voice tiny and muffled.
“Really. And we also got someone to go out and buy cans of hairspray, CFC-free. If you open the door, I’ll show you.”
“You’re not just saying that?” Which is a fair question; not one of them is above using dirty tricks to get things done.
“No, see.” And Spencer starts reading off the grocery list of eco- friendly compounds on the can, some of which he can’t even pronounce.
He’s at the fourth ingredient when the door opens. He starts to smile but it dies on his lips when he’s yanked forward. Brendon is pulling him inside and then pushing him onto the door, which slams shut.
“Brendon,” Spencer says in a rush as Brendon presses his body flush against Spencer’s.
“I love it when you talk organic to me,” Brendon says, smiling, before he kisses Spencer. The can of hairspray clutters to the floor when Spencer decides his hands can be put to better use, like cupping the back of Brendon’s head while he kisses him.
Spencer and Brendon are still in the closet ten minutes later. And Zack should have known better than to leave Spencer anywhere near Brendon and a room with a locking door. If Spencer Smith were a superhero his kryptonite would be Brendon Urie, every single time.
There’s a giggle from the other side of the door followed by thump and a groan, that Zack is one hundred percent sure is not from pain. A production assistant chooses that moment to walk over.
“Are they still arguing?” she asks, looking at the closed door.
“They’re talking it out.” And just then they hear a really loud moan from inside and Zack is so tired of feeling embarrassed for other people’s kids. He clears his throat. “Let’s um, given them ten minutes,” he says loudly.
“Fifteen,” he hears from inside. That must be Brendon; seriously, that kid, give him an inch and he’ll take a fucking mile.
“Five,” Zack counters.
“Ten’s good,” is the immediate response.
Zack grins and counts his small triumph and quickly ushers the production assistant away before the noises from the closet get louder.