Close Your Eyes and Drive | Spencer & Brendon | NC-17 | ~13 000 words | Part 1/2
Close Your Eyes and Drive
Spencer & Brendon | NC-17 | ~13 400 Words
Spencer and Brendon go on a roadtrip.
Many, many thanks to elfiepike for betaing. Thanks to airgiodslv for helping me flesh this out in the first place.
one.
There's a lot less pressure when Panic takes time off before writing the follow up to Pretty. Odd. because they've already got a handful of nearly finished songs as a foundation. Late August, and Spencer is trying to convince Haley that they need a hot tub as well as a swimming pool for their backyard.
"Vegas is hot," Haley says, tugging at the neckline of her white tank top; the fabric is a little see-through and she's wearing the nude bra with the lace along the edges. Spencer watches her. "So hot. So incredibly, painfully hot, Spence. Do you know what part of hot tub I don't like? The part where it has the word 'hot'."
"For the winters," he says. "It gets cold in the winters. Like, at night." Haley has moved her hand, but Spencer hasn't looked away yet. She notices him looking. He knows this because she stretches her arms out behind her, which causes her chest to arch forward a little.
Spencer really loves being home.
--
"Fuck yeah you should get a hot tub," Ryan says. He's gesturing with his beer bottle.
Haley flicks him on the forehead and grabs the bottle from his hand and sets it on the table in front of them.
Keltie is sitting on the floor, her legs all folded up underneath her, Hobo resting on her lap. The dogs were all playing together earlier, but they seem to have tired themselves out.
"What do you need a hot tub for in Vegas?" Keltie asks.
Haley calls out, excitedly, "Hah," and pokes at Spencer. "That's what I said!"
Spencer grabs her poke-y fingers and pulls her in close, until she fits herself under his arm.
"We should buy Jon a hot tub for Christmas," Ryan says, staring off into space. "It's totally cold in Chicago."
Haley makes an angry gesture and says, "I know." Spencer kisses her forehead while she glares at Ryan. Ryan doesn't look over, but Keltie rolls her eyes.
"How's Jon?" Spencer asks Ryan.
"Hmm?" Ryan says, finally turning his attention towards the room again. "Oh, good. He's good. He's coming on... Keltie, when's he coming in?"
"Second week of September," Keltie says.
"Yeah," Ryan says. "He's good though. I don't think it's too cold in Chicago, yet." He looks concerned for a minute, then says, "Oh god, Spence, when is dinner going to be ready? I'm starving."
"Where's Brendon?" Haley asks. "I thought he and Shane would be here by now."
Spencer shrugs, and digs into his pocket to double-check that he hasn't missed any calls. He hasn't.
"Dinner!" Ryan says again, staring at Spencer. "Dinner, I'm starving."
"Pretty soon," Spencer says. He's got his 'unsympathetic for people who smoke up before coming to his house' face on, and Ryan knows it, too, because he starts crawling towards Spencer, growling, "So. Hungry," and snapping his teeth loudly.
Spencer tries to creep backwards without anyone noticing, but he can't hold back the laughter. He bats at Ryan's forehead and says, "Soon! Soon, I swear," as Ryan headbutts his shoulder, rough cheek rubbing up against Spencer's bare arm.
--
By the time Brendon shows up, they've already sat down to eat. Ryan is holding a drumstick in one hand and a cob of corn in the other, alternating between eating and gesturing with the other hand. He nearly hits Brendon in the head, when Brendon walks through the door.
Brendon looks down at his t-shirt, but it seems to be free of butter. He lifts up one hand, and says, "Um, hey guys."
"Brendon!" Keltie says.
"Hey," Haley calls out, scooting her chair closer to Spencer's so that there is room for Brendon to sit down at the table. "Where's Shane?"
Brendon sets a Tupperware bowl of potato salad down on the table -- he always brings something when he comes for dinner, and he always brings it in some kind of container, even though no one actually believes that he cooked it himself -- and makes his way to his seat.
"Oh, uh, I don't know," Brendon says, sitting down. Shane's been a constant fixture for however many years now, and Spencer actually noticed his absence when they all scattered to recuperate after touring Pretty. Odd. Spencer had been looking forward to seeing him tonight, and he opens his mouth to ask why Shane isn't here, but Brendon interrupts with an, "Oh hey, Spencer! Did you barbecue?"
Spencer nods, and passes the plate of chicken over to Brendon.
--
two.
Spencer knocks on Brendon's door, Brendon's Tupperware container balanced under one arm.
It takes Brendon a long time to answer the door, and when he does, he looks confused to see Spencer.
"Here's your thing," Spencer says, pushing the container towards Brendon.
"Oh, thanks," Brendon says. "You totally didn't have to bring it over."
Spencer shrugs.
Brendon holds the container a little awkwardly, standing at the door and looking off into nothingness.
"So," Spencer says, pointedly.
Brendon blinks, then shakes himself awake, stepping back from the door so that Spencer can walk into his house.
The house is a mess. There are things everywhere, but not empty cups and shit, not like Brendon and Shane had a party. It looks more like-- "Are you moving?" Spencer asks.
Brendon's shoulders move up, or his head moves down, and either way it's enough of a movement that Spencer notices.
Brendon is moving gingerly, awkwardly around his house. He looks tired, and Brendon often gets brittle when he gets tired, but this is different from that, even. Brendon’s movement through his own house is strange enough that it catches Spencer’s attention. Spencer doesn’t spend a whole lot of time watching the way Brendon interacts with the world, but he’s spent enough time around him that he doesn’t have to recall the way Brendon normally moves to recognize that he’s doing something different.
"No," Brendon says, clearing his throat and looking around, like he's trying to find the words hidden under the piles of old newspapers (for wrapping fragile stuff, Spencer remembers from when he moved into his and Haley's house), or the box overfilling with piles of CDs.
Spencer waits, but Brendon has managed to distract himself again.
"You're not moving?" Spencer asks.
"No, I mean, yeah, I've got to find a place," Brendon says.
Spencer kind of wants to shake him.
"So you are moving?" Spencer asks. He follows Brendon through the house, towards the kitchen. When they get there, Brendon looks around and Spencer stands awkwardly off to the side. Many of the cabinet doors are opened, and the counters are completely covered with shit: old packages of paper napkins, two different toasters, what seems to be a knife set, missing three knives.
Brendon sets the Tupperware container on top of a cutting board, then crosses his arms. He uncrosses them, then raises one hand up to fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt sleeve.
"Shane's moving out," Brendon says, looking just past Spencer's shoulder when he speaks.
"Oh," Spencer says, surprised. "Is he moving in with Regan?" Spencer hasn't seen Shane for a little while, but he hasn't seen Brendon much lately, so that's not a huge shock.
Brendon nods his head slowly, while saying, "No," at the same time.
"What?" Spencer asks. Brendon's acting weird enough that Spencer's concern is warring with his intense desire to get out of here as quick as possible.
Brendon's jaw flexes and he says, "Shane broke up with her." He pauses for a minute, then says, "A while ago. He broke up with her a while ago."
"Really?" Spencer asks. He thinks back, and is nearly positive that he didn't already know that. Spencer doesn't pay a whole lot of attention to who's dating whom (unless they're, like, actively making out on his couch or something), but that probably would have been something he'd have remembered.
"Yeah," Brendon says.
Spencer is pretty sure that he's missing something here, more than just that Shane and Regan broke up.
"And now, what--?" Spencer asks.
"And now Shane's moving out. Not in with Regan, just. Out."
"Where is he right now?" Spencer asks, looking quickly over his shoulder. He can't hear anything, doesn't think that there's anyone else in the house right now.
Brendon stands still and quiet for a long moment. Spencer wonders if Brendon is listening for sounds, too, but when Brendon speaks, he says, "He's at his new place. He found somewhere else and he's staying there now, and coming back sometime for his stuff." Brendon lifts one of his hands in a halfhearted gesture. "I'm getting some of his crap together for him."
"You're kind of a shitty packer, then," Spencer says.
"Yeah, well." Brendon quirks his lips off to the side, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "You want something to drink?"
It's the end of summer and Vegas is hot as fuck. "Yeah," Spencer says. "Thanks."
Brendon opens the cabinet, takes a long minute to look inside, seems to catalogue its contents before he reaches in for the glass he was getting. He sets the glass on the counter, then walks to the fridge. "Do you want, um," he asks, looking inside. "I think there's some juice. Or, like. Beer. Do you want a beer?" Brendon pulls a box of Coors from the back of the fridge, then frowns when he realizes that it's empty. He grabs a glass bottle of Corona from the side door of the fridge instead, holding it out towards Spencer.
"Yeah, okay," Spencer says. "Just one; I've got to drive home."
Brendon leans into the fridge, and pulls out another bottle for himself.
"When did Shane leave?" Spencer asks.
Brendon tips his bottle up and drinks loudly. When he lowers it away, he makes a little face like he's trying to think. "A couple, or, maybe a few? A couple-ish days ago. Wait, what day is it today?"
"Was it after the thing at my house?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. "It was after that." He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and says, "I just didn't know that he'd started looking for a place, yet. You know? Like-- And then. Because he had been."
"Yeah," Spencer says, even though he has no fucking idea what Brendon is talking about. He waits to see if Brendon is going to explain, but Brendon just busies himself with finishing his beer.
Spencer hurries to do the same. Brendon -- and his messy-ass apartment-- is kind of creeping him out.
--
three.
Spencer's been meaning to drag Brendon out to a movie all week, so he pulls out his Sidekick as he stands in his kitchen, waiting for the coffee pot to finish dripping.
It's just a little past ten, and there's no way that Brendon is awake yet. Spencer wouldn't be awake yet either, but Boba started barking at the door and when Spencer looked over at Haley, she just squinted at him, and rolled over, turning her back towards him, so Spencer had gotten out of bed to let the dog out, only Boba didn't want to pee near the door, she wanted to wander through the backyard, and then she didn't want to come back inside and Spencer had to put his shoes on the drag her in by her collar, and now he is wide awake. Brendon leaves his phone on vibrate, so Spencer calls, planning on leaving a message for Brendon to check when he actually wakes.
Only, Brendon answers the phone.
"Hello," Brendon says.
"How are you awake?" Spencer asks. He squints at the clock on his microwave, briefly wondering if he misread ten o'clock when it was actually later in the afternoon. He didn't.
"Oh, yeah," Brendon says. "I'm going to bed soon."
"The fuck--?" Spencer asks.
"I was beating Zelda," Brendon says, talking quickly. "You know, the old one? Seven Stars? You have to remember all that shit so I didn't want to stop, and like, what time is it? I think the sun has risen."
"It's the middle of the morning, you retard," Spencer says.
Brendon laughs, loud and stupid, like ha ha ha, and Spencer squints. It's too early for this.
"I was going to leave a message," Spencer says, "about seeing a movie later today."
"Yeah, sure," Brendon says. "Like, soon? A matinee? Or, um, what time did you say it was?"
"Go to bed," Spencer says. "We can do it tomorrow or whatever. Get some fucking sleep."
"Uh huh," Brendon says. "Yeah, okay, so, um. Bye?"
Spencer ends the call, then burns his tongue on the coffee. It's too fucking early for this.
--
Spencer carries his nachos carefully, but still he ends up with cheese all over his fingers.
"Did you get napkins?" he asks Brendon, looking around the massive amount of junk food they've accumulated.
"Nah," Brendon says, shaking Sour Patch Kids into his mouth, straight from the package. "Just lick your fingers."
"Thanks," Spencer says, and makes like he's going to wipe his hands on Brendon's shirt.
It took a couple of days to actually plan a trip to the movies, which seems kind of fucked up to Spencer, who's used to Vegas summers where Ryan would show up in the morning, and they'd see how many hours they could kill in the air-conditioned theater complex. They sometimes snuck into another movie, having only bought tickets for the first, but even without that they always managed kill hours afterwards, just sitting on the benches and listening to their discmans.
Brendon drove, and he showed up at Spencer's house fifteen minutes early, so now they're sitting in a dark, empty theater. Spencer's going to need to go back for popcorn, at the rate he's eating the nachos.
"Why do you need to find a new place?" Spencer asks, out of nowhere.
"What?"
"You said that you needed to start looking. Why do you have to find somewhere new? I thought you owned the house."
"Oh," Brendon says. He works the mass of candy around in his mouth, smacking loudly as he sucks and chews.
Spencer is actually waiting for an answer, though, so he stays turned towards Brendon.
"Um," Brendon says, finally. "Just, 'cause, like. You know. Me and Shane chose that place together, so, like. You know."
Spencer still doesn't know. People don't usually need to find a new place just because the other roommate left. Especially not people who can afford to pay rent all on their own. He gives Brendon his dubious eyebrows.
"I haven't started looking, anyway. Gonna wait until the end of September, I guess, 'cause, like. My cousin, umm, Alice? I don't think you've ever-- Anyway, so she's getting married, but it's turned into this whole family reunion type thing, right, so I have to go, but she's having it in fucking Martha's Vineyard, I think, right, so."
"So you're waiting until after to start looking?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "I'm just going to wait until after. I've got to find a new place though. I'm going to find somewhere new, but just afterwards."
Spencer has a little shard of nacho stuck under his gum and he pokes at it with his tongue. It's still hard and sharp and Spencer maybe needs to rinse the inside of his mouth with cheese, or whatever the orange stuff actually is.
Brendon makes a little face, more to himself. "I've still gotta get a plane ticket or whatever."
"Why? Aren't you flying up with your family?"
Brendon opens his mouth, but pauses before he actually starts talking. "I had thought that-- but, I mean. And then I thought that I would, that I would drive up by myself, but I don't think I can. That's a long time to be in a car by myself."
"Yeah," Spencer says. "That's a really fucking long drive."
There are still hardly any people in the movie theater, even though it's not long before the show is supposed to start. Spencer hopes that doesn't mean that they've picked a shitty movie.
Brendon holds his bag of candy in his lap, both hands wrapped around the bag. He leans forward a little, hunched in on himself.
Spencer doesn't know what makes him say it, he isn't planning on making the offer, but he opens his mouth and says, "You want me to drive up with you?"
Brendon's head springs up. He looks excited, before his face sinks back into whatever weird fucking tired look that he's had for -- it's been a while, now that Spencer thinks about it. He's been fucking weird in the past couple of weeks, and whatever tired look lives at the corners of Brendon's eyes settled in a while ago.
Brendon quirks his lips up and says, "Thanks, Spence," before dropping his head back down to stare at his candy. Or, to just not look at Spencer.
Spencer frowns. "I mean it," he says, and in that moment he decides that he does mean it. He can totally drive up to fucking Martha's Vineyard with Brendon. It's not weird for Spencer to offer, not exactly. They are friends. They became friends at the same time they became bandmates, and these days they are friends in between being bandmates , sort of. In between the shows, in the long stretches of waiting, they're friends. Friends who work together. He's spent the last five years traveling with Brendon; he can spend a few more days on top of that.
Brendon moves his mouth again, but Spencer cuts him off. "I mean it," he says. They're all dealing with this now: the masses of people who'll promise them the world and don't mean a fucking word of it, but Brendon most of all. Spencer thinks it's really fucking shitty that Brendon would put him in with those people; Spencer still just says what he means.
Brendon's mouth purses as he tries to form the words. Spencer can see the way his throat is working; whatever Brendon's brain wants him to say isn't something that his body wants to let out.
"I said I'd do it, don't be a douche," Spencer says.
Brendon nods, once slowly, then a jerky bob of his head.
Spencer grabs the bag from Brendon's lap and dumps the rest of the candy into his mouth.
"So," Spencer says, mouth full. "When are we leaving?"
--
four.
They're trying to get an early start, so Spencer calls Brendon. Brendon said that he wanted to take his own car. Brendon's car has fucking activate charcoal filters and lambskin or some shit like that, but whatever. He can get it cleaned afterwards.
Spencer figure that it'll take Brendon half an hour to make it over to Spencer's house, so he calls Brendon at eight to wake him up.
Brendon answers with a, "'ello!" all bright and chipper.
"What the fuck?" Spencer asks. "How are you awake?" He glares suspiciously in front of himself, even though Brendon's not there to see it.
"I'll be in front of your house in like ten minutes," Brendon says, and then hangs up.
Haley is still wearing her pjs when she kisses Spencer goodbye. She got up to eat breakfast with him, but she's going to head straight back to bed once he's gone.
When Spencer told Haley that he was going on a road trip with Brendon, she didn't even say, 'You've been on the road for twelve months; why would you possibly go on a road trip.' She just said, "Brendon wants to take his car? On a road trip?" and made an unimpressed face.
Spencer kissed her on the top of the head, and thought I love you. He still doesn't say it out loud every time he thinks it, because he's worried that if he says it that often, it will stop meaning as much. He's pretty sure she knows, anyway.
Spencer waves goodbye again from the passenger's seat of Brendon's car. Haley and the dogs stand at the front door and wait as they leave. Spencer feels a little pang of guilt, but honestly he's glad to be going on this trip. Sometimes when they have time off, Spencer will go days without leaving the house, even longer without changing his clothing. Having a trip to plan has helped kick him out of lethargy.
There's an easy silence between them as Brendon drives out of Vegas. Spencer watches out the window and wakes up slowly. He's surprised with how energetic Brendon seems, for so early in the morning. It probably just means that he's going to crash later on, but that doesn't matter too much, since Spencer can just take over the driving.
Spencer slides his gaze over to Brendon, driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other tapping out a beat onto the ceiling.
"I'm not listening to the radio for this entire drive," Spencer says.
"My iPod's in the glove compartment," Brendon says, merging onto I-15 N.
--
Spencer gets bored some time after they pass the 573. Grey rock and sand in all directions, and Spencer decides that he wants a Slurpee.
Brendon's tank was half empty when they left the city and Spencer says, "We should probably stop for gas soon."
Brendon gives a little nod. He always drives his tank right down until the light starts to flash, but Spencer's mom always made him fill up the car once the tank was at less than half. At least Brendon fills up the tank before it's empty. Spencer once had to drive forty-five minutes at three in the morning with a can of gas when Ryan's car broke down on the side of the road. Ryan didn't actually call and say, "I'm out of gas." He said, "My car won't work, can you come and get me?" Spencer was almost tempted to tell him to call a cab except that Ryan on the side of the road with his Mercedes in the middle of the night? Spencer would never be able to live with the guilt. He brought the gas just in case, but turned out to be right.
"Weird," Ryan had said when he turned the key and the car started again. "I thought they had some kind of warning before that happened."
Brendon pulls off at the next exit, and while he stands and fills up the car, Spencer walks into the gas station. He grabs a tube of pizza-flavoredPringles on his way to the Slurpee machine. They don't have real Slurpee's, not Coke or Cream Soda, which are what Spencer is craving. He stands for a long time, and finally fills up a cup half with some blue sour something or another, and half with whatever the pink flavor is.
On the way to the cash register, he grabs a couple of cans of Red Bull for Brendon and a bag of Fuzzy Peaches.
Brendon drains one of the cans all at once, then starts eyeing the other one.
"Pace yourself," Spencer says, then offers Brendon a drink of his Slurpee.
"This is fucking nasty," Brendon says, then takes another drink. Brendon is speeding like a motherfucker, but there aren't very many cars on the road, so Spencer isn't too awfully worried by the fact that Brendon only ever has one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching for drinks, or into his pocket to check is phone, over and over again.
"You're fucking nasty," Spencer says. He puts the drink in the cup holder when Brendon passes it back, instead of drinking more himself. It really is nasty.
--
When they get to Green River, Brendon doesn't want to stop, but they've been in the car for ten hours already, and Spencer makes him pull into the Holiday Inn. The only restaurant near the hotel is an Arby's, so they have to stop somewhere else on the way back to buy a six-pack to bring with them to the hotel.
"We should have bought more beer," Brendon says as he pops the top of his third beer.
"I know," Spencer says, sighing. It's probably for the best though. Sitting in a car is surprisingly tiring, and already the alcohol is going to his head a little bit. Not enough that he can actually feel it, but he thinks that if he were to drink more, it would lead to a headache, not to a loosening of the tension in his shoulders.
They were both sitting at the little table in the corner of the room, but when Brendon finishes his beer, he crawls to his bed. Spencer stays seated at the table until he finishes his own, then walks to the bathroom for a shower.
It's easy to share space with Brendon, even without the structure that touring provided. Brendon knows that Spencer likes to shower before bed and Spencer knows that Brendon likes to be the one holding the remote for the TV and neither of them has to worry about making small talk to fill the silence. Brendon and Spencer are good at doing things together and good at leaving each other alone when nothing is going on.
Spencer uses three towels to dry his hair. Hotels always have so many towels, but none of them ever seem to posses an actual drying properties.
He brushes his teeth, then comes back into the main area, turning his back to Brendon when he pulls up his pj bottoms. Brendon is still dressed, and Spencer thinks that he's probably waiting until the lights get turned off so that he can wiggle out of his clothes without having to put on any pjs. None of them are ever quite sure how Brendon does it, but some how he always turns out to be naked in the morning.
Spencer wrestles the sheet free so as to climb into bed. It was weird how he missed that, when he was in his own house. No human being can get beds as tightly made as hotel maids can.
Brendon has flopped out on top of the blankets and is flipping through the TV channels, holding the remote control in one hand, and his phone in the other one. There aren't all that many channels, and as far as Spencer can tell, Brendon is pushing channel-up at regular intervals, rather than actively looking for something to watch.
Spencer stretches out under the cool sheets. Brendon has the TV on quietly, and when Spencer rolls away, the flickering of the screen is mostly blocked by Spencer's shoulder, and it's easy to fall asleep.
--
Spencer wakes through the night. He hangs right on the edge of waking for a long moment, creeping closer and closer to being alert as he slowly tries to figure out if it's worth the bother. He cracks one eye open, and notices that the TV is still on. Brendon must have muted it, because Spencer can't hear anything.
He opens the other eye as well, and sees that Brendon is still on top of the covers. It takes Spencer longer to realize that he's still awake, that he hasn't just fallen asleep while watching TV. Spencer looks over at the clock beside the bed, surprised that Brendon still hasn't crashed. Brendon's been buzzing with extra energy all day, but usually Brendon manic phases include a night of zombie action.
Spencer is still fuzzy with sleep, and he watches Brendon as his brain chugs along slowly towards waking. Brendon has found a rerun of the originalSpiderman TV show, and as he watches it, he grins to himself. Sometimes he mouths words, even though there isn't any sound.
He's still awake, but he looks like he's doing just fine, so Spencer rolls over and floats back off to sleep.
--
five.
Spencer wakes up in the morning when Brendon knocks something over in the bathroom. It's nine o'clock and they've got an eleven o'clock checkout time, so there's not reason why Brendon should be in the shower already.
Spencer flails in bed, trying to push the sheets away from his face. When Brendon opens the door to the bathroom, steam spilling out, Spencer waves his hand and mutters, "What are you even doing?"
"I know we spent a long time on tour," Brendon says, "but you remember what showering is, right? That thing that people do, sometimes even every day. To help with getting clean."
Spencer's hair is swept over his eyes, and Spencer tries to clear a hole through which he can glare at Brendon. He paws at his forehead, and manages to push some of his hair away. Maybe he needs a hair cut or something.
"Fuck off and die," Spencer eventually says, and rolls back over.
Brendon calls for him to get up an hour later, and Spencer drags himself out of bed. He just showered the night before, but he's having trouble waking up, so he has another one.
He runs the shower hot, gives his cock a couple of companionable squeezes, but doesn't end up jerking off.
When they get to the car, Spencer walks straight to the drive'rs side, cutting Brendon off and holding out his hand for the key.
"I'll drive," Brendon says.
"No."
Brendon's jaw sets, which means he's going to be stubborn. Brendon isn't actually all that stubborn in general, but regardless, there's no way that he's going to be winning this one.
"You didn't sleep last night," Spencer says. "You're not driving. You don't want to sleep at night, you can sleep in the car or something, but you're not crashing the car with me in it."
"Don't be a pussy," Brendon says. "I've driven on a hell of a lot less sleep that this."
"I'm not asking you why you didn't sleep," Spencer says, blandly. "But I'm driving." He cocks his hip and holds out his hand for the key.
"It's my fucking car," Brendon says.
Spencer doesn't reply, and doesn't move his hand.
"Spence," Brendon says, then he makes a frustrated gesture with his hands and his face, before handing over the keys in a huff.
Spencer opens the door and tries to fit himself into the car. Fucking Brendon with his tiny fucking legs. Spencer stoops over while he holds down the button to push the seat back, fumbling around to try and figure out where the button to lower the seat is.
--
Brendon spends the first hour of the drive sighing a lot, and pointedly not singing along to the radio, while Spencer ignores him. Honestly, Spencer kind of likes driving Brendon's car. He can understand why Brendon gets so many speeding tickets.
After an hour, Brendon is back to singing along with the radio, and before the second hour is up, he's hunched over his iPod, completely absorbed in making, "a totally sweet, playlist, Spence. I don't know what the fuck we were listening to yesterday."
"It's your iPod," Spencer reminds him. "I wasn't the one who put the songs on it."
Brendon plugs the iPod in and the first song he plays is Bohemian Rhapsody.
"This would be such a sweet song to cover," Brendon says, after they finish harmonizing on the will not let you go's.
"Yeah," Spencer says, because it really would be. "Fucking hard though."
Brendon makes an, "eh" face, and Spencer can hear him charting chord progressions in his head.
"Either this, or Fat Bottomed Girls," Brendon says, grinning.
"Oh," Spencer says. "Your theme song?"
"You're fucking hilarious," Brendon says. "Ha. Ha."
Spencer says, "That's what she said," and jerks the steering wheel back after Brendon whacks his shoulder and they start drifting into the other lane.
Spencer smiles and waves when the driver of the car beside them starts leaning on his horn.
"What?" Spencer yells, through the half-open window. "Yeah, dude, he'd love to suck your cock." Then he steps on the gas and changes lanes two, three times until he can't see the car in his rear-view mirror any longer.
"I hate you," Brendon says, craning up in his seat to look through the back window. "You're never driving my car again."
--
Part Two