First fic ever?
Title: A Fashion Conscious Decision
Author: ConfessionsAt6
Pairing: Jon/Spencer (TYV/P!ATD)
Summary: Spencer is sick and miserable, luckily he has a Jon Walker to look after him.
Wordcount:473
Rating: PG? PG-13?
Disclaimer: I claim no right to owning the characters mentioned, this is fiction through and through.
Author's Note: Originally written for anon_lovefest, slightly expanded and edited.
It had started with a sniffle; a tiny, sharp inhale through the nose that caused Jon to shoot a knowing look his way, complete with a teasing smirk. “I told you to wear a coat, Spence,” he said simply, pulling the younger boy along faster by the sleeve of his thin designer jacket.
“It’s nothing, seriously Jon.” Spencer snapped, shoving his hands further into the pockets of his jeans, scraping them a little raw on the rough denim, to escape the biting wind of late Chicago autumn.
It had progressed with a cough, just a dry cough to clear his throat, which had been feeling a little tight as of late. Just one cough, nothing more, and it sent Jon into a flurry of tea, soup, and blankets, burying Spencer within minutes in a cocoon of warmth and over-bearing. Of course, Spencer hadn’t turned away the attention, instead he was lapping it up, pouting at opportune moments to receive a tighter squeeze or newly warmed cup of liquid, if not for his slightly aching chest Spencer would be in heaven.
Before the week was out, his tiny, barely audible sniffle, had turned into a monster of a cold, and Spencer was miserable. He was tired of soup, and tea. He was tired of waking up coughing, a wet rattling sound deep in his chest. He wanted to be rid of the ever-present runniness at the tip of his nose. But most of all, he wanted to get rid of the feeling of grime on his skin and in his hair.
However, Jon (“The bastard,” grumbled in Spencer’s most spiteful tone, which happened to sound more like “de baderd”, but he will deny it at all costs ) was at work in his time of need.
Hours later, Jon enters the apartment to find Spencer curled up in front of the bathroom door, sleeping soundly in his mountain (Cave? Pile?) of blankets. After a fond smile, and a click of the shutter (or five), Jon reached down to gently shake him awake. After a bit of a sleepy struggle, complete with halfhearted blows and over-dramatic cries of “Leeb me here do die!”, Jon managed to lead the blurry-eyed boy to sit down on the toilet while he ran a bath. Jon persuaded him into the water with kind, loving, words, “You look disgusting, come on. Time to join the land of the living.”
In moments Jon and Spencer were relaxing among warm water, back to front, heads tipped to rest on damp skin. “You need to wear coats outside Spence, you aren’t in Vegas anymore.” Jon whispered, his lips pressed to the younger man’s jaw.
“Kay,” Spencer replied easily, with his body melded against Jon’s and head resting against a strong shoulder. And Spencer slept, chest feeling clear for the first time in days.
Author: ConfessionsAt6
Pairing: Jon/Spencer (TYV/P!ATD)
Summary: Spencer is sick and miserable, luckily he has a Jon Walker to look after him.
Wordcount:473
Rating: PG? PG-13?
Disclaimer: I claim no right to owning the characters mentioned, this is fiction through and through.
Author's Note: Originally written for anon_lovefest, slightly expanded and edited.
It had started with a sniffle; a tiny, sharp inhale through the nose that caused Jon to shoot a knowing look his way, complete with a teasing smirk. “I told you to wear a coat, Spence,” he said simply, pulling the younger boy along faster by the sleeve of his thin designer jacket.
“It’s nothing, seriously Jon.” Spencer snapped, shoving his hands further into the pockets of his jeans, scraping them a little raw on the rough denim, to escape the biting wind of late Chicago autumn.
It had progressed with a cough, just a dry cough to clear his throat, which had been feeling a little tight as of late. Just one cough, nothing more, and it sent Jon into a flurry of tea, soup, and blankets, burying Spencer within minutes in a cocoon of warmth and over-bearing. Of course, Spencer hadn’t turned away the attention, instead he was lapping it up, pouting at opportune moments to receive a tighter squeeze or newly warmed cup of liquid, if not for his slightly aching chest Spencer would be in heaven.
Before the week was out, his tiny, barely audible sniffle, had turned into a monster of a cold, and Spencer was miserable. He was tired of soup, and tea. He was tired of waking up coughing, a wet rattling sound deep in his chest. He wanted to be rid of the ever-present runniness at the tip of his nose. But most of all, he wanted to get rid of the feeling of grime on his skin and in his hair.
However, Jon (“The bastard,” grumbled in Spencer’s most spiteful tone, which happened to sound more like “de baderd”, but he will deny it at all costs ) was at work in his time of need.
Hours later, Jon enters the apartment to find Spencer curled up in front of the bathroom door, sleeping soundly in his mountain (Cave? Pile?) of blankets. After a fond smile, and a click of the shutter (or five), Jon reached down to gently shake him awake. After a bit of a sleepy struggle, complete with halfhearted blows and over-dramatic cries of “Leeb me here do die!”, Jon managed to lead the blurry-eyed boy to sit down on the toilet while he ran a bath. Jon persuaded him into the water with kind, loving, words, “You look disgusting, come on. Time to join the land of the living.”
In moments Jon and Spencer were relaxing among warm water, back to front, heads tipped to rest on damp skin. “You need to wear coats outside Spence, you aren’t in Vegas anymore.” Jon whispered, his lips pressed to the younger man’s jaw.
“Kay,” Spencer replied easily, with his body melded against Jon’s and head resting against a strong shoulder. And Spencer slept, chest feeling clear for the first time in days.