With Too Much Love In These Hearts
Title: With Too Much Love In These Hearts
Author: detourtoyou
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/Spencer
POV: 3rd
Summary: Jon and Spencer are trying to adopt but with no luck. They put their hopes with pregnant couples and teenagers who are willing to let them adopt their baby, but with every potential adoption going wrong, it puts a strain on their hearts.
Disclaimer: Fake, fake, fake. A pretty lie I created in my head.
Beta: madewithstars
A/N: Written for a prompt on anon_lovefest . It got a bit skewed from the original prompt through, so um, sorry about that. It's a little rough, but there is just never enough Jon/Spencer. With kids. And angst.
When Jon comes home, feet pinched in shoes that he kicks off at the front door with a relieved sigh, it takes a few minutes of shuffling to realize that something is off.
Spencer is upstairs, sitting on their bed with an idle finger tracing aimless patterns on the bedspread, devoid of any imagination as it just sways in an unsteady line. There is a carefully folded expression, vacant of any feeling in each layer, molding his face, and Jon instantly knows what is wrong. He stands in the doorway to their bedroom, fingers curling tight into his palm as he stares at Spencer who doesn’t seem to notice his presence.
“Spencer,” he calls out softly, not moving from his spot.
It takes a few seconds to register, but Spencer looks up, dazed like he has trouble seeing Jon, and says, “Oh, Jon. Hi. How was work?”
Jon almost thinks Spencer is actually going to tack on ‘honey’ after it, but he just sits there, waiting for a banal answer that equals his question. Normally, Jon would call him out on the lame question, tease him about how Spencer makes such a good little housewife, but today, he answers, straining to keep the worry out of his voice, “Okay.” He pauses, thinks for a few quick seconds, and decides to crack a small joke that is more truth than fiction, “A couple of the models were pissed that we actually put sugar next to the coffee. Or that we even had a food table.”
The smile lifting Spencer’s lips is all for Jon’s sake, and Jon isn’t quite sure whether he appreciates the attempt the other is making or disapproves of the fact that Spencer is trying to pretend like everything is hunky dory when clearly, it is not.
“Why did you have a food table?” asks Spencer, missing the point by a long mile, but Jon just shakes his head discreetly.
“It was someone’s birthday. I forget who.” Jon hesitates, savoring the heavy still of silence between them that says nothing he needs to hear. It feels as though a fist is shoved down his throat, clawing at the walls of his esophagus, but Jon straightens up, takes the lead, and asks without missing a beat, “So how was your day?”
“Oh,” Spencer sounds softly, weak in volume and density, “you know, just same old, same old.”
There is no doubt in Jon’s loudly clicking mind that Spencer is not talking about his day. Still, he rides on it, continuing, “Nothing new?”
There is a visible crumble in Spencer’s eyes, the dent becoming more and more noticeable as he picks at the bedspread with a distracted hand. A tongue darts out to lick at his lips, and Spencer takes in a small breath and with it, says, “No.”
Jon feels his own heart clench inside of his chest, beating steadily despite feeling like it is slowly shriveling like a useless piece of dried fruit. He leaves the doorway to plop down onto the bed next to Spencer, staring at the wall in front of them and the lonely picture frame that sits empty. His hand drops atop Spencer’s wiggling one, and Jon wraps his own fingers tight around Spencer’s restless fingers, curving his palm inward from the force. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t even seem to notice; he just sits quietly, like it takes too much effort to notice anything except what he doesn’t have.
*
Spencer first brings up the talk of having a baby after they visit Pete and Patrick at their house.
Pete and Patrick have a kid together; cute little thing with boundless energy that is enough to rival Pete and Brendon combined. Jon only has to remember Spencer playing hide-n-seek with Bronx behind a potted plant, all giggly faces and happy energy, for him to smile in agreement. A kid. Jon’s not sure if they are ready, but he thinks that if it is what Spencer wants, then he wants it too. Which, in hindsight, probably is not the best reason to try and adopt a child into their lives and crowd his heart with one more little body, but Jon loves Spencer enough to try. Besides, it isn’t as if Jon wouldn’t love the kid - he would.
“Yeah. A kid would be nice.”
Spencer tackles Jon to the floor in a giddy hug that is all tangled limbs and messy, open mouthed kisses landing on any patch of open skin. They stay there like that until the next morning.
Except adopting a kid is a lot harder than either of them expect. Adoption agencies turn them away because they are two guys looking to raise a child and there’s some law against that, apparently. Jon thinks it is a stupid law, and Spencer agrees wholeheartedly because why the hell can’t a kid - a kid without parents - have parents who will love him and raise him, something every kid wants? The gender of the parents shouldn’t matter as long as there is love, right? Apparently not though. It does matter and their desires mean nothing next to the masses of bigoted people because the government goes with the majority. And the parentless children go on without parents, alone.
And it isn’t as if they can ask Pete and Patrick for advice or help. Pete and Patrick had an exponentially easier time because, you know, they did it the normal way. Pete went out and fucked a girl, Ashlee, and nine months later, they had Bronx. Well, technically, nine months later, Pete and Ashlee had Bronx. Not Patrick. It took a particularly nasty divorce that strained Pete’s and Patrick’s relationship to the metal hinges, threatening to unbuckle, but they came out of it with custody of Bronx.
Jon is certain by over a hundred percent that if he went out and fucked a girl and got her pregnant, Spencer would chop off his dick and feed it to a pack of hungry hogs. On top of that, Spencer would leave him, and Jon likes Spencer filling that spot beside him too much to do something that would drive him away and leave it empty like before.
So, logically, the only thing they can do is take out an ad or something and ask couples, or pregnant teenagers, to give up their baby to them instead of getting an abortion.
It sounds easy enough, and after another visit to Pete’s and Patrick’s house, and the unofficial play date that ensues, Spencer agrees with hopeful eyes gleaming with too much love.
*
Spencer barely leaves the room. He barely makes it out of bed, sitting in the messy tangle of blankets and pillows and staring at the empty picture frame. Most of the time though, he just lies there, staring at the ceiling and imagining what could be.
Or at least that’s what Jon thinks is going on in Spencer’s mind. He isn’t too sure because when it all comes down to it, the devastation hits Spencer harder and faster than it hits him. Jon gets mad, thinks about visiting the couple or teenager’s house and stealing all of their precious shit because they have just robbed him and Spencer of the most precious thing to them - of their only hope - and he wants them to feel that pain, that gripping hand taking a hold of their heart and squeezing tight in five second intervals with no end. But Spencer. Spencer never gets mad. He never even hates the couples and teenage girls for choosing to back out because he is just so damn nice and so damn understanding. Instead, Spencer reassures them with a smile, with a forced politeness even though Jon is almost certain it should be the other way around. He reassures them, smiles for show to keep them from feeling overwhelmed with guilt like they rightfully should be, and breaks in a fantastic shatter on the inside as he waves goodbye or hangs up. Spencer loses himself in that shatter, retreating to the bedroom and keeping Jon on his toes with worry for days until Jon loses it himself.
Frankly, he doesn’t think it is healthy for Spencer to be spending so much of his time here. To be staring at the wall and reminding himself of what couldn’t happen for them.
Jon wants to take the damn frame down, even if just to see Spencer thrash with anger and claw them both into an argument neither of them need.
*
The first couple is Gabe and Victoria.
Jon doesn’t know them, met them through Pete - which may not have been the best idea, he amends, but it is something and they just want their baby so it can’t be too bad, right? - and thinks about screening Gabe for a random drug test.
Spencer punches him lightly in the arm, irritated that Jon is being so rude to the couple - and really, he’s not even thinking of them as normal people but as saints that both he and Jon should kiss the feet of - but agrees when he hears Gabe talking about the party from a few nights ago, unabashed in sharing all his dirty secrets that never were secrets.
Victoria is five months pregnant and nowhere near ready to be a mother just yet. Gabe is the same, the idea of having a baby as foreign to him as spending a Friday night sober. They aren’t ready to settle; they aren’t even ready to get married so adding a child to the mix is not even equitable right now. It seems perfect.
For a long while, everything moves pretty smoothly. They spend days pouring over baby books and new parenting magazines, trying to prepare themselves. Jon even clears out their spare bedroom to turn into a nursery, and Spencer beams when Jon says he thinks they should paint it green with a variety of animals because solid colors are just boring. They even go shopping for furniture and baby clothes even though they don’t know the sex of the baby just yet.
At seven months, Spencer even thinks it is safe enough to tell Ryan about the baby, tell him how he is going to finally be a father, and Jon can’t stop staring at how excited the news colors Spencer’s cheeks every time he talks. He thinks this is the right thing, that even though they might not be ready, this is what they want and that is all the reason he needs.
But then, at about eight months pregnant, Victoria shows up on their doorstep, Gabe by her side, and they have this gripping look of apology that has Jon blinking twice before realizing that it is really Gabe and Victoria on their doorstep. Her hands are folded together, fingers twined and resting against her belly bump.
They don’t ask to come in, and Jon doesn’t invite them in. They all simply stand on their respective sides of the doorframe, until Spencer finally comes over, fitting next to Jon with a surprised smile on his face. It droops a little, however, when he notices the thick tension wrapping around the couple before him.
“We want to keep the baby,” she says, holding her breath with the rush of words like they are burning her tongue. Gabe’s arm around her shoulders tighten, like he is afraid Jon will try and vacuum the thing out of her. He doesn’t say anything, just holds onto Victoria with a look of sheepish apology pulling down his usually exuberant face. Jon realizes that this is real, that this is actually happening.
By his side, Spencer goes still. The air around them stills with him, hanging in suspended molecules that brush up against his esophagus and tickle Jon’s throat.
“Okay.” The word drops from Spencer’s mouth, throat closing as he smiles.
Victoria looks relieved, the feeling sagging her shoulders and uncurling the lines holding her face taut. “Thank you,” she breathes, like she finally has enough oxygen to fill her lungs contentedly. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Yeah,” Gabe echoes, his own arm loosening just slightly. “Thanks guys. We’re, uh, really sorry about all this, but we just couldn’t- couldn’t go through with it, y’know?”
And yes, Jon knows. Jon knows Spencer knows, and he hates how he can empathize with them. Spencer doesn’t even bat an eyelash, already tightening his smile and saying congratulations and whatnot to them. Jon doesn’t bother listening anymore. He just stares at the happy couple, wonders why it can’t be him and Spencer, and feels that heavy bubble of angry empathy boiling low in his stomach.
Her hands spread out against the protruding bump, and Gabe’s free hand closes over hers, squeezing.
He and Spencer don’t touch.
*
“Spencer.” Jon stands at the foot of the bed, obscuring the frame from view, and stares at Spencer with concern molding his face. Spencer doesn’t move. “Spencer,” he repeats, “you can’t stay in bed forever. It’s been almost a week.”
Jon doesn’t add specifications, sees no point to it considering the way it will just make Spencer clam with despair, hope grating itself into smaller and smaller pieces until it is completely gone. Jon doesn’t want Spencer to give up. Even if the most recent couple had been the third people to back down. But Jon has already called them, has already given them a piece of his mind and then a piece of his fist. He knows there is nothing more he can do, and the baby will never be theirs. He wants Spencer to stop being so glum, like the world is ending so it does not matter whether he lives in these next few days or dies.
Spencer doesn’t answer him.
“Spencer,” Jon repeats solidly, words standing under a crumbling ground. He makes sure to repeat Spencer’s name, to pinpoint eye contact. “Spencer, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
The lack of answer lights the fire under Jon’s stomach, and his lips curve into a sharp frown, all pointed lines.
“Spencer. Get up. You have to get up. You can’t just sit there forever just because it didn’t work out this time either. C’mon. Get up. We can find someone else. We can find someone who won’t back out at the last minute.”
He lets it sit in the air for a few minutes, listens to Spencer shuffle on the bed.
“No we won’t, Jon. We aren’t going to find anyone. This is the third time. Maybe- maybe we’re just not meant to have a baby.” Spencer wraps a corner of the bedsheet around his index finger, eyes cast down. “Maybe all those people who are against us adopting are right. Maybe we will be bad parents.”
“No we won’t,” Jon snaps, his usually placid voice rising in volume. “We won’t be bad parents, Spencer. Those people know nothing. They don’t know me, and they don’t know you.”
“What does it matter?” Spencer responds glumly and untwists the tangled sheet. “They must know something we don’t about ourselves that make us bad parents. We’re unfit to have a baby, Jon. That’s why it’s girls who get pregnant, not guys.”
Jon knows that he shouldn’t start a fight, not now. He knows that it is just the depression talking. But the overlapping feeling is the same, the heat of anger prickling under his skin is real, and Jon starts one anyway. He wishes Spencer would know that he isn’t the only one who feels as though their heart has been wrenched out of their chest without any warning.
“We’re not unfit to be parents, Spencer. For fuck’s sake, why the hell would you even think that? Just because this is the third time, it doesn’t mean that the problem is us. The problem is them.”
There is only an intake of hesitation before Spencer shoots back, “How can I not think that, Jon? This is the third time this has happened. If that isn’t a sign telling us that we’re not meant to be parents, I don’t know what is.”
“Or maybe it’s just a sign that everyone is a bigoted asshole,” he suggests instead, face set into a scowl.
“It doesn’t change the fact that we still don’t have a baby and that every single couple backed out on us.” Spencer sits up, hands falling into his lap. “Maybe we’re just not meant to be parents, Jon.”
*
The second time, they end up facing a pregnant teen named Maja.
“I don’t want to keep this baby,” she exclaims the minute she sits down on their couch. There is no incivility in her voice, simply fact, and she sits up straighter. “I’m too young to take care of it properly, but I don’t want to get an abortion.”
It seems pretty cut and dry from there, and the adoption papers are drawn up.
Except two months later, the doorbell is ringing, and Jon is face to face with a struggling Maja and her mother. Her mother stares at Jon for a few seconds, disgusting crinkling the lines around her eyes and mouth, and Maja tries to break free from her mom’s grasp, half-yelling in a foreign language Jon doesn’t recognize.
“Are you the people who cheated my daughter out of her baby?” her mother asks, words clipped.
“Cheated? No, we didn’t cheat Maja. This adoption is completely legal; we even have the papers if you’d like to see them,” replies Jon just as evenly, not bothering to be any more courteous than she is.
A sneer uplifts her mouth, and Maja’s mother says with enough contempt in her voice to drown Jon’s hopes, “I don’t care whether this is legal or not. Maja is my daughter, and I refuse to let her baby go in the hands of people like you.”
“Sorry, do you not like Americans?” Jon asks without a hitch, looking genuinely curious. He counts it as a victory when he sees Maja stop flailing to grin brightly.
Her mother, however, does not find his sarcasm as cute and entertaining and only presents him with a frostier glare with eyes that could cut ice.
“Stay away from my daughter and her baby. I’d rather die than let homosexuals like you take care of it.”
“It’s my baby, so it’s my choice on who should raise it, and I want Spencer and Jon to raise it!” Maja declares, glowering at her mother.
“I -”
Maja’s mother interrupts Jon when he tries to intervene with a firm, “No,” and drags Maja back down the stairs off their porch and through the grass.
Jon does nothing but watch as Maja is shoved into the car, the door slam resounding loudly, and they drive away. He feels sick, especially when Spencer pulls into the driveway ten minutes later. Except Jon doesn’t say anything. He just keeps his lips pressed close and keeps it that way, letting Spencer be clueless for three long weeks.
They get into a fight when he finally tells him. One of the biggest they have had since they’ve gotten together, and Spencer leaves the house in a flurry of too-fast limbs and scuffing shoe steps.
Jon kicks a bag of groceries that were left on the floor in lieu of their argument and ends up throwing his camera into the wall. He’s angry with Maja’s mother all over again for refusing to see them as people who are capable of taking care of Maja’s baby and for only seeing them as sinners because of their sexual orientation. He doesn’t think there is anything wrong with a child growing up with two dads.
*
Jon is in the middle of pulling off the picture frame from the wall when Spencer comes out of the bathroom. He hears the soft patter of bare feet come to halt as he removes it and tosses it into the industrial sized and strength trash bag.
“What are you doing?” Spencer asks sharply, and Jon can hear the struggle in his words.
Willing himself to feign indifference, Jon turns around, trash bag in hand, and states plainly, “You said that you didn’t think we’re fit to be parents, that we’re not meant to be parents, so I’m taking it down.” He sees the blood drain out of Spencer’s face leaving it a ghostly white and tries to ignore the guilt creeping under his skin. He keeps pushing the words out, “It’s not like we have a use for it anymore since we’re not going to have a kid anyways.”
“The room - the nursery too?” chokes out Spencer with quiet breaths.
When Jon stays silent, Spencer rushes out of the room, nearly slipping on the corner of the bedsheet that is drooping off the bed onto the floor. Jon debates whether to follow and makes up his mind to stay and simply take out the trash until he hears the utterly distressing cry from the nursery - the spare bedroom. (It isn’t a nursery anymore.) Jon drops the bag and moves quickly, forgetting that he is the cause of that pained noise and that he is supposed to be angry with Spencer for giving up so easily.
The room is stark white, painted like a hospital and smelling like paint thinner. Spencer stands three steps into the room, and Jon comes up from behind, twists a little so that he can see Spencer.
“We don’t need any of it anymore, Spence,” he says matter-of-fact. He scratches at his arm in an attempt to relieve the itch of guilt currently dotting his skin.
Spencer doesn’t make a noise. He doesn’t even yell or punch Jon like he had been expecting and even hoping for. Instead, his shoulders sag, like his spine has been pulled out, and the skin of his face drops.
“Spencer?”
Spencer doesn’t look.
*
Jon thinks that each time they lose hope, a piece of Spencer, a piece of that brimming love in his heart, goes with it.
He hates it and even wishes that they had never agreed to try adoption.
It is a stupid idea anyway.
*
The next morning, Spencer is out of the bed before Jon even wakes up. He can smell the heavy aroma of coffee brewing through the air and inhales deeply. It finally feels like a new day, and Jon can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips.
Wandering down into the kitchen, Jon spots Spencer at the table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a piece of dry toast in the other. He swoops into the opposite seat, saying, “Good morning.”
Spencer doesn’t reply, just takes another small nibble of the toast.
Jon tries again. “Spencer?”
Spencer ignores him.
He feels distinctly rebuffed and tucks his head a little, chin pulled towards his chest. For a still minute, Spencer doesn’t even glance over in his direction, and Jon gives up, pushing up to his feet to pour himself a cup of coffee. He does not need Spencer’s bitchy attitude right now.
*
Jon watches as Spencer huffs loudly, arms thrown into the air with exasperation moving them. He moves around, fidgeting and twitching with each feeling. Jon simply stands still, feet planted firmly to hold his ground. They’re fighting; he knows they’re fighting and is only surprised by the fact that it took so long this time.
“It was totally uncalled for, Jon,” Spencer states with a hiss.
“How? You were just sitting in bed doing absolutely nothing, and every time I tried to talk to you about find another couple, you just kept talking bullshit about how we’re not meant to be parents.” Jon crosses his arms over his chest and scowls.
“That doesn’t mean you can just fucking throw out the entire nursery! We didn’t even talk about it, and you just went ahead and fucking got rid of everything!” yells Spencer, sharp. “I never said anything about wanting to give up.”
“Oh, so you just saying how we’re not meant to be parents and how we’re unfit and how everyone who backed out on the adoption is right was just you saying that you weren’t going to give up?”
Spencer makes an annoyed noise, low from his throat, and glowers with piercing eyes. “I was depressed,” he points out, and Jon resists the urge to roll his eyes. He is getting more than just sick of Spencer’s weak excuses and his one-sided view of the entire situation. “I was depressed, and I didn’t know what to do. Can you seriously blame me though? They were the third people who agreed to the adoption but then went around and changed their fucking minds. How was I supposed to act?”
Steeling himself, Jon snorts, ready to pick off every one of his defenses. “I never said that you weren’t depressed, Spencer. I know you were depressed. I was too. But you just kept moping about the house for so fucking long, and any time I even tried to talk to you or get you to eat or move or just do something besides sitting there and staring at that stupid picture frame, you would just talk about how we’d make bad parents. Like those parents really know anything about us to pass judgment.” He takes a breath and tries to calm himself. “It’s not like you were the only one who was upset.”
Silence drifts between them, thick in density as it wraps around the room and their bodies. It slips down Spencer’s throat, clogging the legible feelings coming up.
“By the way you were acting, like it wasn’t a big deal, it seems like it,” he remarks quietly, eyes boring into Jon accusingly. It’s almost too much for his irate emotions to stay untouched.
“Well, yeah. That’s because I never even wanted to adopt a kid in the first place!” he slips, and it’s only after he’s said it out loud and to Spencer that he realizes how true it still stands. Jon doesn’t want a kid. He isn’t ready to be a dad. He’s only twenty-five. He doesn’t think he knows how he would care for it or what he would even do. Past that, Jon does not even think he is ready to settle in that sense. While his heart has dropped its roots in Spencer, there just isn’t enough room or love yet for more than one person, and right now, that one person is Spencer.
Spencer looks infuriated, mouth hanging open and eyebrows pulled together with anger. But Jon can see the hurt crowding his eyes, spilling over onto his face, and he wishes he could feel bad enough to want to take it back. But he doesn’t, and it sits between them, definitive.
“If you didn’t want to adopt a kid with me, you could’ve just said so,” hisses Spencer in a muted tone. His fists clench, the tightened nerves relaxing everywhere else.
“You wanted to,” is all Jon says, shrugging even.
“So? If you didn’t want to, you could’ve just told me instead of letting me make a complete ass out of myself.” His muscles loosen, and Spencer just stares at him with crestfallen eyes. “I thought you wanted to adopt a baby just as much as me. I wanted us to start a family, Jon. If you didn’t, you could’ve said something. I spent this entire time thinking that this was something you wanted just as much as me, and now you’re telling me that you never wanted it at all. We don’t adopt a child just because one of us wants to,” he stresses, visibly upset in his words.
“You just seemed to really want to after seeing Bronx,” comments Jon, uncomfortable now that he has no anger to hide behind. He diverts his gaze to his hands, fingers twitching. “I didn’t want to just say no.”
Head shaking, Spencer murmurs softly under his breath, too soft for Jon to hear. His own head dropping, Spencer taps the toes of his feet against the floor, trying to decide how to move.
“Okay. We don’t have to adopt.”
Jon’s eyes snap back up at that, but Spencer’s not looking at him. He’s carefully studying his feet, toes wiggling, and Jon thinks he might have fucked shit up between them.
*
For the next few days, everything returns to normal. Spencer gets out of bed, talks to him whenever Jon says something, and even goes back to work. It is Spencer before all the talk and tries of adoption. Their life before it.
Jon isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing.
*
It is at the end of the second week of normalcy that Jon finally takes into his hands and snaps.
“We aren’t doing this,” he states firmly, standing with arms crossed. Spencer blinks, looks up from his magazine, and wrinkles his nose a little like he does when confused. He’s already in bed, ready to sleep and waiting.
“Um, doing what?”
“If you’re mad at me, then just yell at me. Hit me. Do something. Don’t just pretend like everything between us is okay.” Jon can hear the hum of the bathroom light behind him. He wishes he had turned it off.
Still not quite following his line of thought, Spencer lets the magazine rest in his lap over the covers. “What are you talking about, Jon? I’m not mad,” he says, and it sounds so convincing that if they were just in the beginning of their relationship, Jon would believe him. But he doesn’t; Jon thinks he is. Jon thinks Spencer is really fucking mad. It is the only explanation he can come up with for why their lives have reversed back to the days before the failed adoption attempts. Spencer is hiding something, is repressing some sort of anger at him, and Jon just wants him to release it. He doesn’t want to end up like one of those couples who just pretend as though nothing is wrong, grow apart, and then break up in one easy swoop.
“I lied to you, Spencer. I lied to you about wanting to adopt a kid. I lied about wanting to start a family with you,” Jon lists, hoping each last one will be the cause of the tick in him.
Very carefully, Spencer smooths out the creases in the blanket, hands lying on top of the magazine’s crinkled, thin pages. “And I said that we didn’t have to adopt.”
“But you want to!” he exclaims, surprising himself with the declaration.
“Jon.” And Spencer sighs a little, looks more dejected than he has been letting on for the past days. “I don’t want to adopt a baby until you want it too. Besides, the fact that it hasn’t worked out for the past three times just means that we’re probably not meant to -”
“You’re not fucking unfit, Spencer,” Jon spits out. He hates that this is the reason their relationship is slowly tearing apart, and that even if it isn’t, Jon hates the fact that the feeling of it is still there. It serves as a constant reminder, digging into his conscious and whispering ugly words into his ears for as long as he will listen, and he can’t stop listening when it is everywhere.
Spencer seems to consider this, purses his lip in thought, and says with slow-pressed deliberation, “Either way. I’m not mad, and we don’t have to adopt. It’s okay, Jon. Really.”
“Fuck. Spencer. No, it’s not,” he says, bordering on pleading as desperation cuts his throat on the way up. Jon flexes his fingers, feels the distinct urge to move as restlessness bites at his nerves. He needs Spencer to understand; their lives haven’t gone back to normal. It is all just one ugly picture painted over reality, and Jon can see the smudges, the flecks, and everything smear that brings in the actual reality in small gaps. He doesn’t feel like himself.
“Are you just trying to pick a fight or something?” asks Spencer, voice climbing high. He squints at Jon, eyes narrowed with heated suspicion, and yeah. Yeah, maybe he is. Maybe he is just trying to find something to break this hold of illusion over their heads, and maybe it’s this.
Not bothering with an answer, Jon just states, doesn’t ask, “You’re mad.” Spencer blinks at him. “You’re mad. I know you are. That’s why we’re not fine. That’s why none of this is fine, Spencer.”
His heart skips a beat, jumps only on odd intervals, and Jon dares Spencer to lie.
“Even if I am, it’s not like it changes anything,” Spencer scoffs, and he looks more real than Jon has seen him in these past weeks. “You said you didn’t want to adopt a baby, so I agreed. And you complained about how depressed I was, so I tried not to be. I don’t know what you want from me anymore, Jon.”
Jon sways to the side, tilts his eyebrow just a fraction, and closes his eyes to Spencer. He is not sure what he wants. He thought he wanted a baby, but that was what Spencer wanted. He thought he wanted Spencer to stop being so damn depressed, but that was what he thought would be best. It was just too much for them and just too soon. Jon doesn’t want to cover their world anymore; he doesn’t want the half-reality of their lives before the adoptions and the tricks it uses to paint a pretty picture of fallacy over their eyes with the hopes that no light will ever reach them, the tricks that make Jon feel on edge, feel that dig of wrong clawing around under his skin without knowing what is the cause.
“Let’s just,” Jon closes his eyes, rests his hand against them, “not pretend like it never happened.”
Spencer stares at him, has that same contemplative look. He glances down at the magazine spread and says a quiet, “Okay,” and Jon feels fingernails scraping across his eyes, across the painted world.
*
“So, you don’t want to adopt a baby.” It isn’t a question, just stated fact, and Spencer shivers a little as he sits down next to Jon on the porch step, hunching his shoulders in to protect himself from the sudden pick up of wind. The days are fading faster to time now, a cold chill taking its place.
Fingers tapping against his knee, Jon shakes his head. Breathes in. “No, I don’t.” He can hear Spencer’s hum, can hear the disappointment pinching his skin between every nerve end, and thinks maybe he should just say yes. But he’s falling into that trap again. He remembers what happened this time, what might happen again if he just tries to prove his love by doing whatever makes Spencer happy, so he just sits, quiet, and listens to Spencer’s breaths puff in succession.
“Okay.” He leans his head against Jon’s shoulder, rests his cheek against the fabric of his shirt, and huffs out a steady breath. “Okay, Jon,” Spencer repeats, and Jon exhales. “We don’t have to. Until you’re ready, we’re not going to adopt.” And this time, Jon feels no insincerity in the words, hears no falsity pushed into them until they break at the stems. It’s Spencer, his feelings, his thoughts - just all Spencer laid out in front of him, honest.
Moving to press a kiss to his temple, Jon hums in agreement, stills his fingers and lets them just sit on his knee, calmed. He returns the favor, returns himself, stripped bare to only the core and covered by nothing except who he is. “Okay,” he agrees. “Okay.”
They stay on the porch, watching the light and colors drain from the sky. It isn’t perfect - they aren’t perfect, and there are still a lot of things they haven’t bothered to touch much less figure out, but it’s real, Spencer’s warmth against his skin, and his heart is full enough like this.
Author: detourtoyou
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/Spencer
POV: 3rd
Summary: Jon and Spencer are trying to adopt but with no luck. They put their hopes with pregnant couples and teenagers who are willing to let them adopt their baby, but with every potential adoption going wrong, it puts a strain on their hearts.
Disclaimer: Fake, fake, fake. A pretty lie I created in my head.
Beta: madewithstars
A/N: Written for a prompt on anon_lovefest . It got a bit skewed from the original prompt through, so um, sorry about that. It's a little rough, but there is just never enough Jon/Spencer. With kids. And angst.
When Jon comes home, feet pinched in shoes that he kicks off at the front door with a relieved sigh, it takes a few minutes of shuffling to realize that something is off.
Spencer is upstairs, sitting on their bed with an idle finger tracing aimless patterns on the bedspread, devoid of any imagination as it just sways in an unsteady line. There is a carefully folded expression, vacant of any feeling in each layer, molding his face, and Jon instantly knows what is wrong. He stands in the doorway to their bedroom, fingers curling tight into his palm as he stares at Spencer who doesn’t seem to notice his presence.
“Spencer,” he calls out softly, not moving from his spot.
It takes a few seconds to register, but Spencer looks up, dazed like he has trouble seeing Jon, and says, “Oh, Jon. Hi. How was work?”
Jon almost thinks Spencer is actually going to tack on ‘honey’ after it, but he just sits there, waiting for a banal answer that equals his question. Normally, Jon would call him out on the lame question, tease him about how Spencer makes such a good little housewife, but today, he answers, straining to keep the worry out of his voice, “Okay.” He pauses, thinks for a few quick seconds, and decides to crack a small joke that is more truth than fiction, “A couple of the models were pissed that we actually put sugar next to the coffee. Or that we even had a food table.”
The smile lifting Spencer’s lips is all for Jon’s sake, and Jon isn’t quite sure whether he appreciates the attempt the other is making or disapproves of the fact that Spencer is trying to pretend like everything is hunky dory when clearly, it is not.
“Why did you have a food table?” asks Spencer, missing the point by a long mile, but Jon just shakes his head discreetly.
“It was someone’s birthday. I forget who.” Jon hesitates, savoring the heavy still of silence between them that says nothing he needs to hear. It feels as though a fist is shoved down his throat, clawing at the walls of his esophagus, but Jon straightens up, takes the lead, and asks without missing a beat, “So how was your day?”
“Oh,” Spencer sounds softly, weak in volume and density, “you know, just same old, same old.”
There is no doubt in Jon’s loudly clicking mind that Spencer is not talking about his day. Still, he rides on it, continuing, “Nothing new?”
There is a visible crumble in Spencer’s eyes, the dent becoming more and more noticeable as he picks at the bedspread with a distracted hand. A tongue darts out to lick at his lips, and Spencer takes in a small breath and with it, says, “No.”
Jon feels his own heart clench inside of his chest, beating steadily despite feeling like it is slowly shriveling like a useless piece of dried fruit. He leaves the doorway to plop down onto the bed next to Spencer, staring at the wall in front of them and the lonely picture frame that sits empty. His hand drops atop Spencer’s wiggling one, and Jon wraps his own fingers tight around Spencer’s restless fingers, curving his palm inward from the force. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t even seem to notice; he just sits quietly, like it takes too much effort to notice anything except what he doesn’t have.
*
Spencer first brings up the talk of having a baby after they visit Pete and Patrick at their house.
Pete and Patrick have a kid together; cute little thing with boundless energy that is enough to rival Pete and Brendon combined. Jon only has to remember Spencer playing hide-n-seek with Bronx behind a potted plant, all giggly faces and happy energy, for him to smile in agreement. A kid. Jon’s not sure if they are ready, but he thinks that if it is what Spencer wants, then he wants it too. Which, in hindsight, probably is not the best reason to try and adopt a child into their lives and crowd his heart with one more little body, but Jon loves Spencer enough to try. Besides, it isn’t as if Jon wouldn’t love the kid - he would.
“Yeah. A kid would be nice.”
Spencer tackles Jon to the floor in a giddy hug that is all tangled limbs and messy, open mouthed kisses landing on any patch of open skin. They stay there like that until the next morning.
Except adopting a kid is a lot harder than either of them expect. Adoption agencies turn them away because they are two guys looking to raise a child and there’s some law against that, apparently. Jon thinks it is a stupid law, and Spencer agrees wholeheartedly because why the hell can’t a kid - a kid without parents - have parents who will love him and raise him, something every kid wants? The gender of the parents shouldn’t matter as long as there is love, right? Apparently not though. It does matter and their desires mean nothing next to the masses of bigoted people because the government goes with the majority. And the parentless children go on without parents, alone.
And it isn’t as if they can ask Pete and Patrick for advice or help. Pete and Patrick had an exponentially easier time because, you know, they did it the normal way. Pete went out and fucked a girl, Ashlee, and nine months later, they had Bronx. Well, technically, nine months later, Pete and Ashlee had Bronx. Not Patrick. It took a particularly nasty divorce that strained Pete’s and Patrick’s relationship to the metal hinges, threatening to unbuckle, but they came out of it with custody of Bronx.
Jon is certain by over a hundred percent that if he went out and fucked a girl and got her pregnant, Spencer would chop off his dick and feed it to a pack of hungry hogs. On top of that, Spencer would leave him, and Jon likes Spencer filling that spot beside him too much to do something that would drive him away and leave it empty like before.
So, logically, the only thing they can do is take out an ad or something and ask couples, or pregnant teenagers, to give up their baby to them instead of getting an abortion.
It sounds easy enough, and after another visit to Pete’s and Patrick’s house, and the unofficial play date that ensues, Spencer agrees with hopeful eyes gleaming with too much love.
*
Spencer barely leaves the room. He barely makes it out of bed, sitting in the messy tangle of blankets and pillows and staring at the empty picture frame. Most of the time though, he just lies there, staring at the ceiling and imagining what could be.
Or at least that’s what Jon thinks is going on in Spencer’s mind. He isn’t too sure because when it all comes down to it, the devastation hits Spencer harder and faster than it hits him. Jon gets mad, thinks about visiting the couple or teenager’s house and stealing all of their precious shit because they have just robbed him and Spencer of the most precious thing to them - of their only hope - and he wants them to feel that pain, that gripping hand taking a hold of their heart and squeezing tight in five second intervals with no end. But Spencer. Spencer never gets mad. He never even hates the couples and teenage girls for choosing to back out because he is just so damn nice and so damn understanding. Instead, Spencer reassures them with a smile, with a forced politeness even though Jon is almost certain it should be the other way around. He reassures them, smiles for show to keep them from feeling overwhelmed with guilt like they rightfully should be, and breaks in a fantastic shatter on the inside as he waves goodbye or hangs up. Spencer loses himself in that shatter, retreating to the bedroom and keeping Jon on his toes with worry for days until Jon loses it himself.
Frankly, he doesn’t think it is healthy for Spencer to be spending so much of his time here. To be staring at the wall and reminding himself of what couldn’t happen for them.
Jon wants to take the damn frame down, even if just to see Spencer thrash with anger and claw them both into an argument neither of them need.
*
The first couple is Gabe and Victoria.
Jon doesn’t know them, met them through Pete - which may not have been the best idea, he amends, but it is something and they just want their baby so it can’t be too bad, right? - and thinks about screening Gabe for a random drug test.
Spencer punches him lightly in the arm, irritated that Jon is being so rude to the couple - and really, he’s not even thinking of them as normal people but as saints that both he and Jon should kiss the feet of - but agrees when he hears Gabe talking about the party from a few nights ago, unabashed in sharing all his dirty secrets that never were secrets.
Victoria is five months pregnant and nowhere near ready to be a mother just yet. Gabe is the same, the idea of having a baby as foreign to him as spending a Friday night sober. They aren’t ready to settle; they aren’t even ready to get married so adding a child to the mix is not even equitable right now. It seems perfect.
For a long while, everything moves pretty smoothly. They spend days pouring over baby books and new parenting magazines, trying to prepare themselves. Jon even clears out their spare bedroom to turn into a nursery, and Spencer beams when Jon says he thinks they should paint it green with a variety of animals because solid colors are just boring. They even go shopping for furniture and baby clothes even though they don’t know the sex of the baby just yet.
At seven months, Spencer even thinks it is safe enough to tell Ryan about the baby, tell him how he is going to finally be a father, and Jon can’t stop staring at how excited the news colors Spencer’s cheeks every time he talks. He thinks this is the right thing, that even though they might not be ready, this is what they want and that is all the reason he needs.
But then, at about eight months pregnant, Victoria shows up on their doorstep, Gabe by her side, and they have this gripping look of apology that has Jon blinking twice before realizing that it is really Gabe and Victoria on their doorstep. Her hands are folded together, fingers twined and resting against her belly bump.
They don’t ask to come in, and Jon doesn’t invite them in. They all simply stand on their respective sides of the doorframe, until Spencer finally comes over, fitting next to Jon with a surprised smile on his face. It droops a little, however, when he notices the thick tension wrapping around the couple before him.
“We want to keep the baby,” she says, holding her breath with the rush of words like they are burning her tongue. Gabe’s arm around her shoulders tighten, like he is afraid Jon will try and vacuum the thing out of her. He doesn’t say anything, just holds onto Victoria with a look of sheepish apology pulling down his usually exuberant face. Jon realizes that this is real, that this is actually happening.
By his side, Spencer goes still. The air around them stills with him, hanging in suspended molecules that brush up against his esophagus and tickle Jon’s throat.
“Okay.” The word drops from Spencer’s mouth, throat closing as he smiles.
Victoria looks relieved, the feeling sagging her shoulders and uncurling the lines holding her face taut. “Thank you,” she breathes, like she finally has enough oxygen to fill her lungs contentedly. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Yeah,” Gabe echoes, his own arm loosening just slightly. “Thanks guys. We’re, uh, really sorry about all this, but we just couldn’t- couldn’t go through with it, y’know?”
And yes, Jon knows. Jon knows Spencer knows, and he hates how he can empathize with them. Spencer doesn’t even bat an eyelash, already tightening his smile and saying congratulations and whatnot to them. Jon doesn’t bother listening anymore. He just stares at the happy couple, wonders why it can’t be him and Spencer, and feels that heavy bubble of angry empathy boiling low in his stomach.
Her hands spread out against the protruding bump, and Gabe’s free hand closes over hers, squeezing.
He and Spencer don’t touch.
*
“Spencer.” Jon stands at the foot of the bed, obscuring the frame from view, and stares at Spencer with concern molding his face. Spencer doesn’t move. “Spencer,” he repeats, “you can’t stay in bed forever. It’s been almost a week.”
Jon doesn’t add specifications, sees no point to it considering the way it will just make Spencer clam with despair, hope grating itself into smaller and smaller pieces until it is completely gone. Jon doesn’t want Spencer to give up. Even if the most recent couple had been the third people to back down. But Jon has already called them, has already given them a piece of his mind and then a piece of his fist. He knows there is nothing more he can do, and the baby will never be theirs. He wants Spencer to stop being so glum, like the world is ending so it does not matter whether he lives in these next few days or dies.
Spencer doesn’t answer him.
“Spencer,” Jon repeats solidly, words standing under a crumbling ground. He makes sure to repeat Spencer’s name, to pinpoint eye contact. “Spencer, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
The lack of answer lights the fire under Jon’s stomach, and his lips curve into a sharp frown, all pointed lines.
“Spencer. Get up. You have to get up. You can’t just sit there forever just because it didn’t work out this time either. C’mon. Get up. We can find someone else. We can find someone who won’t back out at the last minute.”
He lets it sit in the air for a few minutes, listens to Spencer shuffle on the bed.
“No we won’t, Jon. We aren’t going to find anyone. This is the third time. Maybe- maybe we’re just not meant to have a baby.” Spencer wraps a corner of the bedsheet around his index finger, eyes cast down. “Maybe all those people who are against us adopting are right. Maybe we will be bad parents.”
“No we won’t,” Jon snaps, his usually placid voice rising in volume. “We won’t be bad parents, Spencer. Those people know nothing. They don’t know me, and they don’t know you.”
“What does it matter?” Spencer responds glumly and untwists the tangled sheet. “They must know something we don’t about ourselves that make us bad parents. We’re unfit to have a baby, Jon. That’s why it’s girls who get pregnant, not guys.”
Jon knows that he shouldn’t start a fight, not now. He knows that it is just the depression talking. But the overlapping feeling is the same, the heat of anger prickling under his skin is real, and Jon starts one anyway. He wishes Spencer would know that he isn’t the only one who feels as though their heart has been wrenched out of their chest without any warning.
“We’re not unfit to be parents, Spencer. For fuck’s sake, why the hell would you even think that? Just because this is the third time, it doesn’t mean that the problem is us. The problem is them.”
There is only an intake of hesitation before Spencer shoots back, “How can I not think that, Jon? This is the third time this has happened. If that isn’t a sign telling us that we’re not meant to be parents, I don’t know what is.”
“Or maybe it’s just a sign that everyone is a bigoted asshole,” he suggests instead, face set into a scowl.
“It doesn’t change the fact that we still don’t have a baby and that every single couple backed out on us.” Spencer sits up, hands falling into his lap. “Maybe we’re just not meant to be parents, Jon.”
*
The second time, they end up facing a pregnant teen named Maja.
“I don’t want to keep this baby,” she exclaims the minute she sits down on their couch. There is no incivility in her voice, simply fact, and she sits up straighter. “I’m too young to take care of it properly, but I don’t want to get an abortion.”
It seems pretty cut and dry from there, and the adoption papers are drawn up.
Except two months later, the doorbell is ringing, and Jon is face to face with a struggling Maja and her mother. Her mother stares at Jon for a few seconds, disgusting crinkling the lines around her eyes and mouth, and Maja tries to break free from her mom’s grasp, half-yelling in a foreign language Jon doesn’t recognize.
“Are you the people who cheated my daughter out of her baby?” her mother asks, words clipped.
“Cheated? No, we didn’t cheat Maja. This adoption is completely legal; we even have the papers if you’d like to see them,” replies Jon just as evenly, not bothering to be any more courteous than she is.
A sneer uplifts her mouth, and Maja’s mother says with enough contempt in her voice to drown Jon’s hopes, “I don’t care whether this is legal or not. Maja is my daughter, and I refuse to let her baby go in the hands of people like you.”
“Sorry, do you not like Americans?” Jon asks without a hitch, looking genuinely curious. He counts it as a victory when he sees Maja stop flailing to grin brightly.
Her mother, however, does not find his sarcasm as cute and entertaining and only presents him with a frostier glare with eyes that could cut ice.
“Stay away from my daughter and her baby. I’d rather die than let homosexuals like you take care of it.”
“It’s my baby, so it’s my choice on who should raise it, and I want Spencer and Jon to raise it!” Maja declares, glowering at her mother.
“I -”
Maja’s mother interrupts Jon when he tries to intervene with a firm, “No,” and drags Maja back down the stairs off their porch and through the grass.
Jon does nothing but watch as Maja is shoved into the car, the door slam resounding loudly, and they drive away. He feels sick, especially when Spencer pulls into the driveway ten minutes later. Except Jon doesn’t say anything. He just keeps his lips pressed close and keeps it that way, letting Spencer be clueless for three long weeks.
They get into a fight when he finally tells him. One of the biggest they have had since they’ve gotten together, and Spencer leaves the house in a flurry of too-fast limbs and scuffing shoe steps.
Jon kicks a bag of groceries that were left on the floor in lieu of their argument and ends up throwing his camera into the wall. He’s angry with Maja’s mother all over again for refusing to see them as people who are capable of taking care of Maja’s baby and for only seeing them as sinners because of their sexual orientation. He doesn’t think there is anything wrong with a child growing up with two dads.
*
Jon is in the middle of pulling off the picture frame from the wall when Spencer comes out of the bathroom. He hears the soft patter of bare feet come to halt as he removes it and tosses it into the industrial sized and strength trash bag.
“What are you doing?” Spencer asks sharply, and Jon can hear the struggle in his words.
Willing himself to feign indifference, Jon turns around, trash bag in hand, and states plainly, “You said that you didn’t think we’re fit to be parents, that we’re not meant to be parents, so I’m taking it down.” He sees the blood drain out of Spencer’s face leaving it a ghostly white and tries to ignore the guilt creeping under his skin. He keeps pushing the words out, “It’s not like we have a use for it anymore since we’re not going to have a kid anyways.”
“The room - the nursery too?” chokes out Spencer with quiet breaths.
When Jon stays silent, Spencer rushes out of the room, nearly slipping on the corner of the bedsheet that is drooping off the bed onto the floor. Jon debates whether to follow and makes up his mind to stay and simply take out the trash until he hears the utterly distressing cry from the nursery - the spare bedroom. (It isn’t a nursery anymore.) Jon drops the bag and moves quickly, forgetting that he is the cause of that pained noise and that he is supposed to be angry with Spencer for giving up so easily.
The room is stark white, painted like a hospital and smelling like paint thinner. Spencer stands three steps into the room, and Jon comes up from behind, twists a little so that he can see Spencer.
“We don’t need any of it anymore, Spence,” he says matter-of-fact. He scratches at his arm in an attempt to relieve the itch of guilt currently dotting his skin.
Spencer doesn’t make a noise. He doesn’t even yell or punch Jon like he had been expecting and even hoping for. Instead, his shoulders sag, like his spine has been pulled out, and the skin of his face drops.
“Spencer?”
Spencer doesn’t look.
*
Jon thinks that each time they lose hope, a piece of Spencer, a piece of that brimming love in his heart, goes with it.
He hates it and even wishes that they had never agreed to try adoption.
It is a stupid idea anyway.
*
The next morning, Spencer is out of the bed before Jon even wakes up. He can smell the heavy aroma of coffee brewing through the air and inhales deeply. It finally feels like a new day, and Jon can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips.
Wandering down into the kitchen, Jon spots Spencer at the table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a piece of dry toast in the other. He swoops into the opposite seat, saying, “Good morning.”
Spencer doesn’t reply, just takes another small nibble of the toast.
Jon tries again. “Spencer?”
Spencer ignores him.
He feels distinctly rebuffed and tucks his head a little, chin pulled towards his chest. For a still minute, Spencer doesn’t even glance over in his direction, and Jon gives up, pushing up to his feet to pour himself a cup of coffee. He does not need Spencer’s bitchy attitude right now.
*
Jon watches as Spencer huffs loudly, arms thrown into the air with exasperation moving them. He moves around, fidgeting and twitching with each feeling. Jon simply stands still, feet planted firmly to hold his ground. They’re fighting; he knows they’re fighting and is only surprised by the fact that it took so long this time.
“It was totally uncalled for, Jon,” Spencer states with a hiss.
“How? You were just sitting in bed doing absolutely nothing, and every time I tried to talk to you about find another couple, you just kept talking bullshit about how we’re not meant to be parents.” Jon crosses his arms over his chest and scowls.
“That doesn’t mean you can just fucking throw out the entire nursery! We didn’t even talk about it, and you just went ahead and fucking got rid of everything!” yells Spencer, sharp. “I never said anything about wanting to give up.”
“Oh, so you just saying how we’re not meant to be parents and how we’re unfit and how everyone who backed out on the adoption is right was just you saying that you weren’t going to give up?”
Spencer makes an annoyed noise, low from his throat, and glowers with piercing eyes. “I was depressed,” he points out, and Jon resists the urge to roll his eyes. He is getting more than just sick of Spencer’s weak excuses and his one-sided view of the entire situation. “I was depressed, and I didn’t know what to do. Can you seriously blame me though? They were the third people who agreed to the adoption but then went around and changed their fucking minds. How was I supposed to act?”
Steeling himself, Jon snorts, ready to pick off every one of his defenses. “I never said that you weren’t depressed, Spencer. I know you were depressed. I was too. But you just kept moping about the house for so fucking long, and any time I even tried to talk to you or get you to eat or move or just do something besides sitting there and staring at that stupid picture frame, you would just talk about how we’d make bad parents. Like those parents really know anything about us to pass judgment.” He takes a breath and tries to calm himself. “It’s not like you were the only one who was upset.”
Silence drifts between them, thick in density as it wraps around the room and their bodies. It slips down Spencer’s throat, clogging the legible feelings coming up.
“By the way you were acting, like it wasn’t a big deal, it seems like it,” he remarks quietly, eyes boring into Jon accusingly. It’s almost too much for his irate emotions to stay untouched.
“Well, yeah. That’s because I never even wanted to adopt a kid in the first place!” he slips, and it’s only after he’s said it out loud and to Spencer that he realizes how true it still stands. Jon doesn’t want a kid. He isn’t ready to be a dad. He’s only twenty-five. He doesn’t think he knows how he would care for it or what he would even do. Past that, Jon does not even think he is ready to settle in that sense. While his heart has dropped its roots in Spencer, there just isn’t enough room or love yet for more than one person, and right now, that one person is Spencer.
Spencer looks infuriated, mouth hanging open and eyebrows pulled together with anger. But Jon can see the hurt crowding his eyes, spilling over onto his face, and he wishes he could feel bad enough to want to take it back. But he doesn’t, and it sits between them, definitive.
“If you didn’t want to adopt a kid with me, you could’ve just said so,” hisses Spencer in a muted tone. His fists clench, the tightened nerves relaxing everywhere else.
“You wanted to,” is all Jon says, shrugging even.
“So? If you didn’t want to, you could’ve just told me instead of letting me make a complete ass out of myself.” His muscles loosen, and Spencer just stares at him with crestfallen eyes. “I thought you wanted to adopt a baby just as much as me. I wanted us to start a family, Jon. If you didn’t, you could’ve said something. I spent this entire time thinking that this was something you wanted just as much as me, and now you’re telling me that you never wanted it at all. We don’t adopt a child just because one of us wants to,” he stresses, visibly upset in his words.
“You just seemed to really want to after seeing Bronx,” comments Jon, uncomfortable now that he has no anger to hide behind. He diverts his gaze to his hands, fingers twitching. “I didn’t want to just say no.”
Head shaking, Spencer murmurs softly under his breath, too soft for Jon to hear. His own head dropping, Spencer taps the toes of his feet against the floor, trying to decide how to move.
“Okay. We don’t have to adopt.”
Jon’s eyes snap back up at that, but Spencer’s not looking at him. He’s carefully studying his feet, toes wiggling, and Jon thinks he might have fucked shit up between them.
*
For the next few days, everything returns to normal. Spencer gets out of bed, talks to him whenever Jon says something, and even goes back to work. It is Spencer before all the talk and tries of adoption. Their life before it.
Jon isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing.
*
It is at the end of the second week of normalcy that Jon finally takes into his hands and snaps.
“We aren’t doing this,” he states firmly, standing with arms crossed. Spencer blinks, looks up from his magazine, and wrinkles his nose a little like he does when confused. He’s already in bed, ready to sleep and waiting.
“Um, doing what?”
“If you’re mad at me, then just yell at me. Hit me. Do something. Don’t just pretend like everything between us is okay.” Jon can hear the hum of the bathroom light behind him. He wishes he had turned it off.
Still not quite following his line of thought, Spencer lets the magazine rest in his lap over the covers. “What are you talking about, Jon? I’m not mad,” he says, and it sounds so convincing that if they were just in the beginning of their relationship, Jon would believe him. But he doesn’t; Jon thinks he is. Jon thinks Spencer is really fucking mad. It is the only explanation he can come up with for why their lives have reversed back to the days before the failed adoption attempts. Spencer is hiding something, is repressing some sort of anger at him, and Jon just wants him to release it. He doesn’t want to end up like one of those couples who just pretend as though nothing is wrong, grow apart, and then break up in one easy swoop.
“I lied to you, Spencer. I lied to you about wanting to adopt a kid. I lied about wanting to start a family with you,” Jon lists, hoping each last one will be the cause of the tick in him.
Very carefully, Spencer smooths out the creases in the blanket, hands lying on top of the magazine’s crinkled, thin pages. “And I said that we didn’t have to adopt.”
“But you want to!” he exclaims, surprising himself with the declaration.
“Jon.” And Spencer sighs a little, looks more dejected than he has been letting on for the past days. “I don’t want to adopt a baby until you want it too. Besides, the fact that it hasn’t worked out for the past three times just means that we’re probably not meant to -”
“You’re not fucking unfit, Spencer,” Jon spits out. He hates that this is the reason their relationship is slowly tearing apart, and that even if it isn’t, Jon hates the fact that the feeling of it is still there. It serves as a constant reminder, digging into his conscious and whispering ugly words into his ears for as long as he will listen, and he can’t stop listening when it is everywhere.
Spencer seems to consider this, purses his lip in thought, and says with slow-pressed deliberation, “Either way. I’m not mad, and we don’t have to adopt. It’s okay, Jon. Really.”
“Fuck. Spencer. No, it’s not,” he says, bordering on pleading as desperation cuts his throat on the way up. Jon flexes his fingers, feels the distinct urge to move as restlessness bites at his nerves. He needs Spencer to understand; their lives haven’t gone back to normal. It is all just one ugly picture painted over reality, and Jon can see the smudges, the flecks, and everything smear that brings in the actual reality in small gaps. He doesn’t feel like himself.
“Are you just trying to pick a fight or something?” asks Spencer, voice climbing high. He squints at Jon, eyes narrowed with heated suspicion, and yeah. Yeah, maybe he is. Maybe he is just trying to find something to break this hold of illusion over their heads, and maybe it’s this.
Not bothering with an answer, Jon just states, doesn’t ask, “You’re mad.” Spencer blinks at him. “You’re mad. I know you are. That’s why we’re not fine. That’s why none of this is fine, Spencer.”
His heart skips a beat, jumps only on odd intervals, and Jon dares Spencer to lie.
“Even if I am, it’s not like it changes anything,” Spencer scoffs, and he looks more real than Jon has seen him in these past weeks. “You said you didn’t want to adopt a baby, so I agreed. And you complained about how depressed I was, so I tried not to be. I don’t know what you want from me anymore, Jon.”
Jon sways to the side, tilts his eyebrow just a fraction, and closes his eyes to Spencer. He is not sure what he wants. He thought he wanted a baby, but that was what Spencer wanted. He thought he wanted Spencer to stop being so damn depressed, but that was what he thought would be best. It was just too much for them and just too soon. Jon doesn’t want to cover their world anymore; he doesn’t want the half-reality of their lives before the adoptions and the tricks it uses to paint a pretty picture of fallacy over their eyes with the hopes that no light will ever reach them, the tricks that make Jon feel on edge, feel that dig of wrong clawing around under his skin without knowing what is the cause.
“Let’s just,” Jon closes his eyes, rests his hand against them, “not pretend like it never happened.”
Spencer stares at him, has that same contemplative look. He glances down at the magazine spread and says a quiet, “Okay,” and Jon feels fingernails scraping across his eyes, across the painted world.
*
“So, you don’t want to adopt a baby.” It isn’t a question, just stated fact, and Spencer shivers a little as he sits down next to Jon on the porch step, hunching his shoulders in to protect himself from the sudden pick up of wind. The days are fading faster to time now, a cold chill taking its place.
Fingers tapping against his knee, Jon shakes his head. Breathes in. “No, I don’t.” He can hear Spencer’s hum, can hear the disappointment pinching his skin between every nerve end, and thinks maybe he should just say yes. But he’s falling into that trap again. He remembers what happened this time, what might happen again if he just tries to prove his love by doing whatever makes Spencer happy, so he just sits, quiet, and listens to Spencer’s breaths puff in succession.
“Okay.” He leans his head against Jon’s shoulder, rests his cheek against the fabric of his shirt, and huffs out a steady breath. “Okay, Jon,” Spencer repeats, and Jon exhales. “We don’t have to. Until you’re ready, we’re not going to adopt.” And this time, Jon feels no insincerity in the words, hears no falsity pushed into them until they break at the stems. It’s Spencer, his feelings, his thoughts - just all Spencer laid out in front of him, honest.
Moving to press a kiss to his temple, Jon hums in agreement, stills his fingers and lets them just sit on his knee, calmed. He returns the favor, returns himself, stripped bare to only the core and covered by nothing except who he is. “Okay,” he agrees. “Okay.”
They stay on the porch, watching the light and colors drain from the sky. It isn’t perfect - they aren’t perfect, and there are still a lot of things they haven’t bothered to touch much less figure out, but it’s real, Spencer’s warmth against his skin, and his heart is full enough like this.