The High Place (1/2) - Bandom, R, Brendon/Spencer.

[cho_malfoy]

"Dinner time!" Brendon waved a bag of food in the air as he strode into the kitchen.

Ian narrowed his eyes. "If that's kibble again, you're eating it."

"You really think I'd feed you dog food?" Brendon set the bag carefully on the granite counter. The penthouse had marble, but they'd moved to a house with more resilient fixtures not long after busting Frank out of Manticore. Mikey said granite was totally okay for scuffing, but it was still really nice. "You really think I'd feed you dog food?"

"So you didn't bring home a doggie bag?"

Oops. "That's leftovers, right? I got this to-go. That means-"

Ian waved a hand as he dug through the bag, sniffing experimentally. "Just because I'm stuck here doesn't mean I don't know shit."

"Right." Brendon clapped him on the back on his way to the stairs. "Enjoy!"

Brendon liked the new house. It didn't really match Mikey and Gerard's personality - too rich in its furnishing, and a lot of wood like the penthouse - but it was one of the few places in Seattle that would match their income level and fit all of them. Which was apparently a necessity for the secret identity thing. Brendon thought all the X5s and Ian under one roof kind of blew that out of the water, but it was a massive upgrade from government barracks, so he wasn't going to complain.

It didn't stop Frank. He always grumbled about it being an upscale cabin, but whatever, Frank was part cat and didn't eat meat. Clearly he was weird. Never mind that Brendon dabbled with a vegetarian diet when he first left Manticore a couple months back; bacon existed and was therefore better than all things green.

Brendon jogged up the stairs and into the master bedroom at human speed. It was weird taking the biggest spot in the house, especially with windows that showed the trees in the neighborhood so well, but Mikey insisted on converting the garage so Frank could park his bike where they slept, and Gerard was downright pleased to live in the basement so Ray could soundproof it and play guitar all day and night. But even then, Gerard hadn't wanted to take the house.

"You guys have never had your own rooms!" he'd said when he and Mikey had showed the others the pictures they'd taken on their tour. "It's so awesome!"

Frank had nodded sagely. "Yeah. You can jerk off whenever you want."

Gerard had blushed, but even though Brendon took his point - it wasn't always fun whacking off in the shower, particularly after Frank stole all the hot water - it was nice having Spencer in the bed next to him. He'd spent most of his life listening to Spencer breathe in the night. It would be too quiet without him.

Before Brendon could flop on his bed - which was twice as big as the cot in Manticore, and sinfully soft - he spotted something on the pillow. A postcard? Who would send him mail?

He flipped it over, read the sentences scrawled on the back, and grinned like a complete dork.

-

As Brendon clung to the elevator track, he hoped it was just his imagination that the Space Needle was creaking in the breeze.

Judging by the shattered wrecks of the elevators at the bottom, they hadn't worked since the Pulse. It would stop a normal person; a good decade of abuse on a structure isn't something to ignore. But Brendon wasn't normal, and he could spot a light at the top of the building with his enhanced vision, so he heaved himself up, breeze and all.

The light got brighter as he crossed a graffiti-covered wreck of a room toward a section without windows. And then the light shone in his face.

"Identify yourself," a deep voice rumbled.

Brendon flipped up his middle finger. "That good enough?"

The flashlight dropped, and as Brendon's eyes adjusted, a smirking Spencer came into view.

"You trimmed your beard," Brendon said.

Spencer shrugged and set the flashlight on the windowsill. It cast a gentle golden light and was much softer than most flashlights Brendon had seen. "It's the length I want."

"Looks good." Brendon peeked his head over the edge. The roof was missing some tiles, but Spencer seemed pretty steady on it.

"You coming out?"

Brendon snorted. "I like my neck solid, thanks."

"Chicken." But Spencer grabbed the flashlight and climbed inside. "It's too windy for this outside anyway."

"For what?"

Spencer pulled out a bag and made a flourishing gesture with his hand. Brendon leaned toward it and squinted.

"Is that pot?" he asked, sniffing. The plastic kept him from getting a good whiff, sadly.

"Please. You think I'd waste my time on that, after what Frank said?"

Brendon shrugged. "I figured he just hadn't tried enough. I can get tipsy on a lot of vodka sometimes."

"This isn't Manticore," Spencer said, pulling open the bag. "They sell weed at the pharmacies, and it's fucking cheap. If we were trying that, I'd have more than a dusting."

Brendon took another sniff, and whoa. His eyes fluttered shut, and he arched his neck a little, almost like he was trying to rub against the bag.

He shook his head and laughed. "How'd you get your hands on that?"

Spencer grinned. He handed the bag to Brendon and reached into his pocket. "Frank mentioned to Pete that catnip was a dangerous thing for young X5s who hadn't been in the world to have. So Pete gave it to Frank, and Frank gave it to us."

"The cops confiscate catnip?" Brendon snorted. From what Ray told him, the Pulse had made a lot of luxuries hard to find. Sure, catnip had been one of them, but it seemed like a waste for the police to handle.

"Guess it makes a racket on the black market, and it's one of the things people are more willing to turn over when they get busted." Spencer's eyes sparkled. "So Frank agreed to share the wealth whenever it goes his way. After all, he has to get rid of it responsibly."

"Of course," Brendon said solemnly. Man, he knew Frank would feel like he owed them for life after they made sure his pills got to him, but he never thought it'd be so awesome.

He extended the bag when Spencer reached for it, and Spencer carefully dropped some of the leaves into a rolling paper. "Frank showed me how to do this. I hope I don't screw it up."

"You won't."

And Brendon was right. The cylinder looked like an honest-to-goodness joint when he was done.

"Oh," Brendon said. "That's why we're meeting here."

Spencer raised an eyebrow.

"Gerard?"

"Oh yeah," Spencer agreed with a nod. "Frank won't even smoke up at the penthouse, so he made me promise we'd go somewhere else."

"So you picked the High Place?"

Spencer laughed. "Think it's called the Space Needle."

Brendon shoved Spencer's shoulder, but he laughed, too. He hadn't called anything the High Place since he was a little kid, but it kind of fit.

"Speaking of..." Spencer pat at his pockets for a second before hanging his head. "Shit."

"No lighter, huh?"

"Shut up."

Brendon grinned. "Luckily for you, I am always prepared."

He pulled out a lighter from his pocket. In a house with chain smokers, it was easier to have something ready than hunt something down when the whining inevitably started. He even smoked with Gerard or Frank occasionally, but tobacco wasn't really his thing.

As Brendon lit the flame, Spencer held the joint forward until the tip glowed. He puffed the other end a couple times before drawing back, eyes wide. "Wow. That's a kick."

"Can I try?"

Spencer rolled his eyes. "No, I just brought you here so I could have an audience. Here, take a drag."

Brendon took the joint. It smelled a little like mint this close to his nose. It stunk almost as much as pot - he passed enough head shops in Sector 1 to know that it was kind of gross - but the smell of weed didn't make his head fuzzy, either.

He put the joint to his mouth and inhaled.

"Now keep the smoke in your lungs for a second so it can take effect."

It itched a little, but Brendon managed it. Even though he coughed a little when he breathed out.

He blinked. "I don't feel anything."

"You might not. Ray doesn't."

"I thought he didn't smoke because of Gerard."

Spencer shook his head. "He told me he tried once before he met Gerard. Just made his clothes smell like ass."

Brendon looked down sadly at his outfit. He didn't even think of that.

"Come on, don't bogart." Spencer took the joint back.

"Heh. Bogart. That's an awesome word." It felt good in his mouth. "Bo. Gart."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I'd think you were getting high, except you always act like this."

Brendon sneered as Spencer took another hit.

-

They only made it halfway down the joint before Spencer stubbed it out. As it turned out, that was more than plenty.

"Do you really need to rub all over me?" The words came out of Spencer's mouth a little slow, a little slurred.

Brendon nodded seriously and arched his body and rolled next to Spencer. "You're just so great, Spencer. You shared with me."

"I knew that the first ten times you said it."

"But you did."

Spencer didn't look like he was high. Or different at all. He was attractive, obviously, but that was a given. The beard made him look less like jailbait than Brendon, which sucked because Brendon still got carded for everything. At least Mikey had hooked him up with a decent fake ID.

Of course, when Spencer reached over to bat Brendon away, he ended up pawing clumsily at him. He was probably just good at hiding being stoned.

"How are we getting back down?" Spencer said, frowning. "I can't climb like this."

"We can sleep it off. No big."

Spencer eyed the rest of the floor around them. And okay, maybe his what-the-fuck expression was well-earned. There were still shards of broken glass from whatever had broken the windows, and there were chunks of concrete and rebar here and there. But whatever, the area they were on was clear.

"'S way better than that one training mission," Brendon said, eyelids heavy. He snuggled up next to Spencer. "The one with all the snow and ice?"

Spencer huffed a laugh. It sounded a little dorkier than his usual, but then, he was always kind of a dweeb. That's why Brendon liked him. "The one where you nearly got your dick stuck to a tree?"

"What? I was just peeing."

"By touching a tree trunk with Little Brendon?"

"Hey," Brendon huffed. "He's not little."

Spencer waved a hand dismissively. And then he kept moving it, and it was only after a second that he blinked and shook his head slightly. "You're lucky you've still got anything down there."

"You're lucky you're such an asshole."

"You love my asshole." He slung an arm around Brendon's shoulders, and Brendon snuggled closer.

"Seriously?" Brendon asked, but Spencer just grunted a little and started snoring.

Brendon let his eyelids drop and snickered a little. Love Spencer's asshole. What the hell.

-

He didn't know if it was his genetic cocktail or just the way his brain worked, but Brendon always dreamed in memories. And not the confused jumble humans were supposed to have; it was clear, specific recall. Considering most of his memories were of Manticore, it kind of sucked, but it wasn't like he had much control over it.

The night he slept in the High Place, he remembered the first room he'd slept in. He was young, pre-Pulse young, small enough to share a twin bed with Brent, who always slept soundly through the night.

Frank, crouching over Brendon's bed and putting a finger to his mouth to make sure Brendon stayed quiet, was also young. He didn't have any of the non-barcode tattoos he sported these days, and his hair was the same nearly-bald buzz that everyone else his age had sported. But the cocky smirk was exactly the same.

"Wanna see something cool?" he whispered so quietly that Brendon, right next to Frank's head, could barely hear it.

Brendon nodded; he'd pretty much walk across nails if Frank said he liked it. He pushed out of his warm blanket and tiptoed across the chilly tile behind Frank.

It was a dream, but Brendon was aware enough to remember how this played out seconds before his brain sent him the visuals. How Frank peeled back the chicken wire and carefully loosened one of the bars on the window. The way Brendon and Frank balanced on the ledge until they made it to the drain pipe. How they'd climbed up to the roof and bent down to keep out of view of the guard tower's light.

They stopped once they reached a maintenance door. It provided just enough shelter for a few people to sit with their backs to it and look out at the rest of the buildings and the trees beyond.

"Wow," Brendon whispered. He'd never gotten to look without training in mind. He didn't have to read the breeze to see how best to stay downwind, and he didn't have to read the stars to find his location, and he didn't have to stay in formation or anything like that. "This is..."

"I know," Frank said after Brendon didn't finish. "I do this every couple weeks. Best way to find my path out."

Brendon knew Frank would leave. Even if he didn't bust out of Manticore soon, he'd be moved into a room with all the X5s his age before long; they were getting to the age where they were expected to "assume responsibility for each other". Which was another way of saying "narc on the kids who disobey orders", and it was kind of funny, considering they were also supposed to watch each other's backs. Either way, even the people too scared to stick their necks out knew better than to rat, and people like Frank taught the younger ones everything they needed to know.

Brendon had always been good at watching out for himself. But he was young, and the thought of Frank leaving made him sick.

He ignored his churning stomach and asked, "But why show me?"

Frank grinned. "You'll figure something out."

And then they'd had a gross noise competition for hours, the sound eaten up by the building around them. Brendon laughed in his dream until he woke up, and a smile stayed on his lips as he and Spencer climbed down the elevator track while the sun rose.

-

The best part about Nomalie hunting was exploring the city.

"This isn't exploring the city," Spencer whispered as they rounded a trash can. "This is running around every rundown piece of crap in Sector 6."

Okay, Spencer had a point. But even Nomalies had common sense. They couldn't go in the sectors with a lot of electricity or security, which mostly left Sector 6.

"Still better than sitting around Manticore," Brendon whispered back. Spencer conceded with a nod and a shrug.

When a shadow briefly blocked the firelight illuminating their alley, they both froze and crouched. Show time. Spencer took just a second to wave a hand before disappearing into the side shadows, and Brendon straightened.

"Why don't you come out?" Brendon said. He kept his voice low - a lot of Nomalies bolted with loud noise - but he made himself heard. "I won't hurt you."

"No," a voice from the shadow said. "You'll just ssssend me back to Manticore, X5."

Brendon held up his hands. They were gloved, but empty. Spencer insisted on packing, but Brendon wasn't carrying so much as a knife. "I don't work for them."

A figure stepped out. It was taller than Brendon, he could tell that much, but even with his kickass cat vision, it was too dark to make out more.

"And I'm sssssupposed to believe that?"

Brendon shook his head. "You've got no reason to trust me. I know."

The figure got closer, and...oh, scales? And a flicking tongue. Huh.

"If I did trusssst you," the snake man said, tilting his head, "what would-"

Before he could answer, he's flat on the ground with a cry of alarm. Brendon jumped back, ready to spring for the silhouette perched on the snake's back when-

"Spencer?" He threw his hands in the air. "What the fuck? Not the plan!"

The plan was the same as always: let Brendon communicate in whatever way the Nomalie could handle. Yeah, sometimes they got jumped. But this wasn't even close to one of those times, and Spencer's got his arm across the snake dude's throat anyway. Although the snake guy let out some kind of neck frill in response, like a cobra. That was kind of cool. Or it would be in another situation.

"He was blocking you from view," Spencer said casually, only forcing words when the snake guy struggled under his grip. "I didn't want to give him any chances."

Brendon stepped up and smacked Spencer's arm. "I was getting somewhere! He'll never trust us now."

"I might," the snake man choked out, "if you let me up."

Spencer dug his arm in, but when Brendon pulled on his shoulder, Spencer let himself be dragged to his feet. He didn't back off much, but it was enough for Brendon to help Snake Dude into a sitting position.

"You okay?" Brendon asked.

The snake man nodded and rubbed his neck until the frill retracted. Actually, scales aside, he looked nearly human. Must be from a series that was inching toward covert. "Jusssst usually have a few drinks before I get that close to someone new."

Brendon snickered, and Snake Guy smirked as he pushed into a standing position.

"Been watching you guyssss for a couple weekssss now," he said. He stuck out his tongue and rubbed it a little. "Sorry, I haven't talked in a while. Hissing all over the fucking place."

"You got a name?"

"Gabe," he said, shaking Brendon's hand. "When I'm not king of the Cobras."

King? That sounded promising. Brendon let Gabe hook an arm around his shoulder, and he ignored a weird sound from Spencer's direction as they walked to Patrick's car.

-

"What happened then?"

Brendon grinned as he leaned back in his chair. Spencer was carefully not watching their table and focusing on Mikey and Frank playing pool in the corner, which was fine with Brendon. If Gabe hadn't been Gabe, Spencer might've gotten both their throats torn out. Jerk.

"He took us to his lair," Brendon said to answer Ray's question. "Had a couple of other Nomalies hanging out. I guess they were trying to set up some kind of network."

Gerard was pressed against Ray, eyes bright. "Awesome."

"That's what Pete said. I guess he and Gabe hit it off." That was putting it mildly. Pete had asked if Gabe had a human dick, and when Gabe whipped it out, Pete seemed ready to propose marriage on the spot. Brendon had flinched, but when he'd looked pointedly at Patrick, Patrick had shrugged and said, "That's Pete for you."

"He have something in mind for the Nomalies you've tracked down yet?" Ray asked, tracing the rim of his soda glass with his thumb. Brendon didn't have much experience with drinks yet, but there was something about the fizziness and weird colors of soda that seemed vaguely suspicious, so he stuck to water. Or booze, but not when he was sitting with Gerard, usually.

"Dunno. Spence?"

"Huh?" Spencer was still staring at the pool tables.

"Earth to catboy." Brendon waved his hand in Spencer's face. "You were with Patrick last. He say anything about Pete's grand and glorious plans?"

Spencer batted away Brendon's hand. "I don't speak Pete even through a Patrick translator."

"I should call him," Gerard said, dropping his head against Ray's shoulder. "Brian's usually my cop, but if Pete's taking charge on this, I shouldn't leave it to Mikey."

He and Ray went on for a second about their Nomalie thoughts, but Brendon didn't really have anything to add, so he slid closer in the booth toward Spencer. Spencer jumped.

"Dude," Brendon said in a quiet voice. "You okay? I was just giving you a hard time."

Spencer blinked. "What? I'm fine."

"C'mon, you've been jumpy. Spill."

Spencer's cheeks turned pink, but before he could say anything, Frank bounced up to the table. His hair was solid black and cropped close these days, but Brendon could see people giving Frank a look over his shoulder. It was probably the visible tattoos, which stuck out even in a bar like Crash. Or maybe people were just checking him out.

"Mikey kicked my ass again," he said. "Tell me someone can take the motherfucker down."

Gerard sighed. "You know we all suck at eight-ball."

"No, I know you suck. And I know Ray doesn't like to try." Frank beamed at Brendon and Spencer. "But I don't know how these two spend their free hours."

"Because we've had so many of them," Brendon said. Between getting out of lifelong imprisonment just a few months ago and hunting down his fellow genetic experiments most nights, if he was some kind of pool shark, he would've had to learn during the hours he usually reserved for sleep. And he doesn't sleep much as it is.

Frank stuck out his lower lip. "Can you at least try and make me feel better about losing all the time?"

Brendon was about to say something like, "No one can lose as much as you" or "My ego's fine where it is, thanks" when Spencer stood up.

"I'll play," he said.

Frank nearly tackled Spencer in his quest to hug him before running back to the table. Mikey turned his mostly expressionless face in their direction as he collected the balls from the pockets.

"Have you ever played?" Brendon asked as he slid out of the booth.

"A couple times," Spencer said as they walked over. He took Frank's stick from him. "This a betting game?"

Mikey raised an eyebrow. "Can be."

Spencer pulled a twenty from his pocket. "How does this work?"

"We break the formation," Mikey said, putting his own twenty on the edge of the table. Spencer set his on top. "Whatever ball sinks first gives you stripes or solids. You sink as many as you can in one turn, and when you miss, it's my turn. When all yours are in, you go for the eight ball, and you call what pocket it goes into."

"Who breaks?" Spencer asked.

Mikey took the rack away carefully, making sure not to knock the balls on the table out of their shape, and hung it under the table. "We flip for it."

Brendon resisted the urge to snort as Spencer took a quarter out of his pocket; tosses were pretty easy to rig. Which was why he was completely unsurprised when Mikey called heads and the coin flipped tails. But Mikey didn't seem surprised either, so maybe that was the point. If Frank sucked so hard at pool, Mikey was the kind of guy who would give him an extra edge.

Spencer positioned himself in front of the white ball and balanced his stick - "Cue," Frank whispered to Brendon, shifting his weight from foot to foot - on the edge of the table. It looked...awkward. Not the carefully expert pose that Mikey rocked so hard. Spencer tilted the cue a couple different ways and frowned, stepping back.

"Want me to do it?" Mikey asked.

Spencer shook his head. He leaned in and exhaled. When his right hand slid the cue through his left, the white ball struck the rest with a satisfying crack. Four balls sunk right away; two more inched their way in after.

Brendon's jaw dropped. Frank clapped his hands. And Spencer. Spencer smiled.

"Dude," Frank whispered after Spencer moved around the table a few times, nudging Brendon. "You're staring."

He shook himself a little, but his eyes were still fixed on Spencer's lips, curled as he bent over the table again. It wasn't like Brendon hadn't seen it before, but this smile was fucking dazzling.

Spencer didn't give much ground after that. Mikey got two turns, which he used to sink his solids in a very neat way. He got his first turn only because the white ball went in the pocket after one of Spencer's stripes, which apparently wasn't supposed to happen. The second turn came when Frank not-so-subtly bumped the table with his hip.

"What?" Frank said when Brendon glared. "Just because this is good for my self-esteem doesn't mean I'm not on Mikey's side."

But overall, Spencer dominated easily, only taking seconds between moves to line up and shoot. It was just a couple breathless minutes between Spencer breaking and Spencer gesturing with his cue and saying, "Eight ball, side pocket" in front of where Brendon and Frank stood.

Brendon gave Spencer his best holy-crap-where-did-this-come-from smile when Spencer looked up from the table. Spencer smiled back, but it faded when he tilted his head thoughtfully for a second. Brendon was about to ask if something was wrong when Spencer leaned over the pool table slowly, much more slowly than he was moving all night, and...

...wow. That was Spencer's ass, just a couple feet in front of Brendon.

Brendon had taken Spencer's hotness for a given for years. It didn't matter what Spencer looked like; he was just one of the best people in the entire world, and, therefore, hot. But it was always an in-Brendon's-head deal. Probably because he's never had Spencer bent in front of him before, his back long, his ass curved and round and dear sweet Blue Lady was he going to the Nomalies for this one.

Frank yelped in Brendon's ear, and all of a sudden, Spencer's ass was gone. Well, it was still there, but Spencer was standing and grinning at Frank and Brendon and pointing his ass firmly away from Brendon's eyeballs.

"Good game," Spencer said, scooping up the money. He licked his lips and winked at Brendon.

Wow.

-

"So, sex," Brendon said.

Mikey lowered his music magazine and raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"I've, uh, heard you've had a lot of it?" Brendon cringed a little, but Mikey gave a one-shouldered shrug as if to say duh, so Brendon went on. "I was just wondering if you'd clear up a couple points for me."

"It wasn't part of your training?" Right. Sleeping with an X5 for months. Of course Frank would say something.

Brendon shook his head. "Maybe if you got sent out on missions, but I...well. I got the basics. 'Don't bang the ones with boobs if you don't want to knock them up.' That kind of thing."

"Really?"

That didn't come from Mikey; a wide-eyed Gerard rounded the corner not long after speaking and sat on Mikey's feet. Mikey kicked until Gerard shifted and Mikey could pull his feet out again.

"Why?" Brendon asked. "Is that weird?"

Gerard frowned. "I guess not, but it's so...heterocentric."

"I'll let you handle this one, Gee." Mikey scrambled to his feet with a little smile on his face.

"Huh?" But Mikey was already halfway to the converted garage by the time Gerard looked around. He flapped a hand in Mikey's direction.

"I'll tell you everything," Gerard said. "Partially because my brother's being a jerk, but these are things you should know."

Brendon held up a hand to stop him. Gerard deflated a little.

"Can I take notes?" Brendon asked.

Gerard beamed.

-

After the day of diagrams and enthusiastic lecture, it was no surprise that Brendon dreamed about Spencer that night.

Spencer was around Brendon's age. But in the memory, when the guard tower's light illuminated his face, it was impossible to tell he was around ten and not young enough to be kept in a room with the older X5s.

He stirred a little when Brendon nudged him. Ryan, in the bed next to him, muttered darkly but stayed asleep. When Spencer's eyes opened, they were brilliant even in the near darkness.

"You didn't get dinner," Brendon said as quietly as possible while making sure Spencer could still hear him. No one in the room would tell, but adults still guarded the hallways nearby.

Spencer shook his head and glanced at Ryan.

Sibling-related words had meant little when they were taught about family units in their classes...beyond knowing which people would be the most emotionally vulnerable to a potential target, of course. Spencer and Ryan had been in the same group to start with, but despite the fact that they looked nothing alike, there was something about their relationship that said "brothers". Or even "twins", if the way they communicated outside official gestures was any way to tell.

The grown-ups didn't miss it. Which was why, when Ryan had mouthed off to the teacher, Spencer had been the one sent to clean the bathrooms and miss their time in the mess hall. And why their CO had stood by Ryan's part of the table while he'd eaten dinner and spoken loudly about bedding assignments.

"Come on," Brendon whispered, taking Spencer by the hand. Spencer didn't budge, and for a second, Brendon wondered if he'd go to a guard, maybe buy a little security. But after a couple of tense heartbeats, Spencer stood and followed Brendon back to his bed.

The window behind Brendon's bed was the same window he'd had his entire life; they moved the rest of the X5s his age in when they were deemed old enough not to get in trouble. Frank and Ray were gone, but not forgotten; Brendon still sat with them at meals, and, of course, there was still the little trick of opening the window that Frank had showed him when he was younger.

And so Brendon showed Spencer the same trick very quietly, climbing out toward the drainpipe. He waited for a second on the wall, wondering if Spencer would be scared, but Spencer followed without hesitation, nodding up at Brendon until Brendon started climbing again.

Once on the roof, they crawled quietly until Brendon reached his little maintenance door. While Spencer sat out of sight, Brendon carefully stood until he could reach under the eaves and grab the bag of food he'd stashed a couple days ago. A lot of it was meant to last, but there was a piece of bread that definitely had to be eaten.

When Brendon held it out, Spencer took it and tore into it without hesitation. Never mind their lessons about poison, about how disobeying orders is the ultimate in traitorous acts. Spencer groaned quietly and chewed and didn't seem scared of anything.

He was the bravest person Brendon had ever met.

-

After two nights of pouring over notebook pages and a laptop Gerard had lent him, Brendon still wasn't particularly ready when he got another note from Spencer on top of his pillow.

It wasn't a love note, or even a friendly "hey, come here" like most friends probably gave each other. It was coordinates written in a cypher. The cypher was different than the one Spencer had used to get Brendon to the Space Needle several days before. They'd never used the same cypher twice in Manticore. Maybe Brendon was a complete dork, but he kind of loved that Spencer was keeping it up.

By the time Brendon made it out of the house and to the base of their pot-smoking sanctuary, the wind was even higher than it had been the last time. It looked like the whole place was swaying.

"Just your imagination," Brendon muttered, and he wriggled in place to psych himself up for a few minutes before taking a running leap for the elevator track.

Maybe the whole structure swaying was just his imagination, but the leftover cables on hanging next to where Brendon was climbing definitely whipped back and forth in the wind. Each time they hit metal, they clanked loudly, and when Brendon wasn't ducking out of the way, his fingers dug in so much he bent the metal in several places. Looking at how small the ground was beneath him didn't help.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." The wind carried the sound away from his ears almost entirely, and he was frozen next to the cables, his heart pounding in his ears. "Just...Spencer. Go for Spencer."

Brendon closed his eyes. This way, he could picture Spencer like he was climbing next to him, grinning that pool-table smile. Brendon loosened his fingers and did the rest of the climb with Spencer behind his eyelids. Better-than-human senses and ridiculous amounts of training had its upsides sometimes.

He took a minute at the top to breathe and to soothe the cramps out of his hands. Seduction was better if a guy didn't look like he was about to die from panic. On the plus side, no big deal actually doing the seducing, right?

"Right," Brendon whispered, making sure his hair wasn't too ridiculous. He squared his shoulders and rounded the half-wall that kept him hidden from the rest of the room.

Spencer was waiting on a block of rubble. They could both see pretty well in the dark, but even so, he'd brought a golden lamp along. It made his skin glow and his already awesome body look even more awesome.

When he spotted Brendon, he grinned. "So."

Brendon grinned back. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, and he rocked back and forth on his feet. "So."

"Did you bring snacks this time? Because if we have to stop in a Sector 1 store when we're high again-"

"No!" Brendon said quickly.

Spencer cocked his head and stood. "So you'll just lick your arm again? That didn't work very well last time."

Brendon tried telling himself that rolling his eyes was a sucky seduction technique. It didn't keep him doing it. There were way worse things than slobbering on your own skin, especially when Brendon's tasted so fucking delicious.

But still. Not the point. He tried to focus. Gerard had been very clear: no propositioning when high, and he had to get a very clear yes from Spencer. But now that he was here, he realized Gerard hadn't mentioned any good ways to bring up sex in the first place. But he was a trained soldier and spy, so something good had to come to mind.

"Um, you're hot?"

Maybe not.

"Thanks?" Spencer frowned.

"I mean, uh. When you were playing pool. I noticed...fuck."

Spencer's puzzled look faded, and a smile slowly took its place. "Brendon Urie, are you propositioning me?"

Brendon scratched the back of his head. Spencer hadn't used his last name much, not since they'd picked them in their first week out. It shouldn't be hot, but the low tone of amusement made Brendon's skin flush. He liked it.

"I am," he said finally, making sure it didn't sound like a question. Enthusiasm on both sides, that's what Gerard had said. "If you want me to. Otherwise, no, we're just friends."

"Smooth."

Brendon grinned. Actually, it kind of was. For him. "Thanks."

Spencer pushed off from the rubble and closed the space between them. Brendon's heart started to beat hard again, but in a good way.

"Let's just...take this slow, okay?" Spencer asked.

"Slow?"

Spencer nodded, and wow, he was close enough that Brendon could feel Spencer's breath on his cheek. It was all he could do to keep from rubbing up against Spencer like a cat. Even though he didn't think it was the feline DNA causing it.

Okay. Spencer was close enough to touch, and Brendon knew he should try kissing him. Kissing wasn't hard. Was it? It was just...lips. On lips. Spencer's very, very nice lips.

Spencer's hand touched his. Brendon jumped, and he hated himself immediately. Fuck, they've touched more than this before. But just the way Spencer laced their fingers and pressed their palms together felt downright full-frontal, and Brendon couldn't help but shiver.

"Slow," Spencer said in a low tone, smiling. He licked his lips - and hey, he was looking at Brendon's lips, that had to be a good sign - and drew his free hand over the back of Brendon's cheek. Brendon's eyes fluttered closed as Spencer leaned in.

Sure enough, it was nothing more than lips touching lips. Well, not much more. Brendon opened his mouth a little in a sigh, and Spencer moved with him, and that was enough to get Brendon tingling head-to-toe. Who knew his lips in particular would get so tingly? It was like they were falling asleep, but in a much more sexy way.

But it was just...nice. Spencer smelled good, like soap with a nice layer of sweat, and he was warm and amazing. More than that, he actually wanted to be touching Brendon. That had never happened to him before.

Spencer pulled back, and Brendon opened his eyes again.

"Ready to get high?" Spencer asked.

"Oh." He hasn't pulled his hand out of Brendon's, but... "That's it?"

"For now. You're already shaking."

It was true. Brendon's teeth were even chattering a little. But before he could step back from Spencer, he asked, "We're doing that again, though. Right?"

Spencer ducked his head. Even the flush of his cheeks was fucking hot. "Definitely."

Brendon grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.

Part two | Master post