Erasing All This Body's Known | Spencer/Brendon | AU | ~ 21 000 words | NC-17 | Part 1/2
Notes | Part One | Part Two | Epilogue |
I don't know when the boys
began to walk away with parts of myself
in their sticky hands; when loving
became a process of subtraction. Or why,
having given up what seems so much,
I'm willing to lose even more - erasing
all this body's known, relearning it with you.
Love Letter by Melissa Stein
one.
Spencer isn't even surprised when Ryan comes storming over, making his way purposefully across the dance floor, to where Spencer is leaning against the wall and talking with a guy. Ryan's the most irritating kind of cockblocker in that he always looks so earnest -- well, as much as Ryan ever has facial expressions, anyway-- when he explains to Spencer how he was just trying to look out for him.
What does surprise Spencer is when Ryan holds out a cross -- how did he even manage to fit something so big into the tiny pockets of his jeans? -- and what really surprises Spencer is when the guy, Brendon, jumps back.
"You'd better run," Ryan says. "Pete and the others are going to be here any minute."
Brendon looks disbelieving, but the best thing about Ryan's monotone is that it really is hard to tell when he's bullshitting.
"Another time then," he says, tipping his hat at Spencer, before turning and hissing at Ryan, and whoa-- Teeth! Very pointy teeth! Had those always been there? Spencer does not remember seeing any teeth when he was politely listening to Brendon talk by watching his mouth move.
"What the fuck?" Spencer says, once Brendon has walked away. "Did you see--? With the--?" Spencer pulls his lips back and says, "Grrr."
"With the him-being-a-vampire?" Ryan says. "Yeah, yeah I noticed that."
"What the fuck?" Spencer asks again. "A vampire? With big teeth?"
"Spencer," Ryan says. "I told you about this. You've met Pete before."
"Pete is actually a vampire?" Spencer asks, shocked.
Ryan gives him an incredulous look. "Were you just not listening the first time I told you this?" he asks.
"Well, not really," Spencer says. "You were talking about vampires. I thought you meant, like, some weird role-playing goth thing."
"You thought I was into a 'goth thing'?" Ryan says. "Why the fuck would you possibly think that?"
"Well, you know, like that time you were into My Chemical Romance," Spencer says.
"My Chemical Romance isn’t goth," Ryan says, sounding mildly outraged.
"They do write song about vampires, though," Spencer says. "Yeah, that's right. I was listening there." He pokes at Ryan's shoulder. "Do do do vampires will never hurt you la la la," he sings.
"I should have let him bite you," Ryan says.
Spencer rolls his eyes.
"And anyway," Ryan continues, sounding sulky, "you've heard Fall Out Boy play. They don't make goth music."
"Bands go in new directions," Spencer says. "One day it's a little guyliner, the next it's...A lot more eyeliner, I don't know how these things work exactly. Pete has been looking really pale lately."
"Because he's a vampire!" Ryan shouts. Then he looks around. The club is crowded and noisy and no one gives them a second glance. "He's pale because he can't go out in the sunlight anymore," Ryan says, lowering his voice.
"I understand that now," Spencer says. He waves his hand vaguely. "You know, hindsight and whatever."
"I told you," Ryan says, his lips pinching tightly together. "It isn't hindsight when someone tells you and you don't believe them."
"Hmm," Spencer says, looking around the bar. He kind of wants a drink; trying to be heard over the music is making his throat dry.
"And anyway, that guy was a Dandy," Ryan says. "How could you possibly not notice the way he was dressed?"
"Brendon," Spencer says.
"What?"
"His name is Brendon."
Ryan sighs. "Thanks. It's always great to know in case he rips your throat out in the future, and then I'll know the name of the guy you killed you, what the fuck, Spencer, I don't care what his name is."
"I did notice that he had very nice shoes," Spencer says. "But given that he was wearing nearly the same hat that you were wearing last week, no. No, I did not notice that he was dressed weird." Spencer makes a point of sweeping his eyes down over Ryan's latest waistcoat-and-multiple-scarves combination.
"Shut up," Ryan says. "Your shirt has glitter on it."
"Well," Spencer says. "At least we know for sure that I'm not a vampire."
--
Spencer leaves soon after that. Somehow the knowledge that there are living dead walking among the actual living is enough to turn him off clubbing. Plus the part where Pete did show up, and Ryan totally ditched Spencer to fawn over him. Since Pete is apparently, in fact, a vampire, Spencer doesn't really think that Ryan had to fuss so much about making sure that he always had a drink, but anyway.
As he walks down the street, Spencer manages to work himself into a really foul mood, and when someone steps out of the shadows, blocking his path, Spencer grits out, "You've got to be kidding me."
"That's not very friendly," Brendon says, smiling charmingly at Spencer. "And we were getting along so well before."
"Look," Spencer says, before he realizes that he doesn't know what to say. Brendon seemed cool when they were talking at the club. Spencer had ended up rambling about the percussion ensemble that he's playing in this semester, and Brendon had actually interjected enthusiastically, instead of nodding off like most people do when Spencer starts talking about his classes.
Brendon raises his eyebrow, all pointedly.
Spencer crosses his arms and thrusts his hip out to the side. "I'm really pissed off that you're a vampire. I was totally going to ask if you wanted to like, meet for coffee tomorrow or something, and now it turns out that you can't even go out when it's sunlight, and that's really annoying. Plus! I can't believe that you listened to me talk for two hours when you were just planning on killing me. That's like...even worse than a pity fuck." He glares at Brendon.
"How is that worse than a pity fuck?" Brendon asks, glaring right back. "I can't believe that you're mad that I listened to you talk."
"Well, now I know you weren't actually listening," Spencer says. "You were just planning on how you could slice open my delicious arteries. It's like, I don't know. The creepy vampire equivalent of staring at my chest the whole time or something, and I don't even do that with girls."
"You don't stare at girls' chests?" Brendon asks, sounding disbelieving.
"No, I don't get caught," Spencer says. "And I totally don't secretly plan on drinking their blood while I'm pretending to listen to something that they care about, assface."
"I was so listening," Brendon protests. "Did you see me staring at your throat? No, no you didn't. Because I was totally listening."
"Well, of course you're saying that now," Spencer says. "Now that I caught you. And you know what, screw you, because I didn't even care if you were listening. I just think you're a total dickhead for turning out to be a vampire."
Brendon blinks at Spencer for a minute, and then narrows his eyes, looking very intently over at Spencer. In his brainvoice, Spencer can hear Brendon is totally hot, you should hook up with him.
"Oh my god," Spencer says. "Did you seriously just try and brainwash me? Is that what just happened there? You tried to control the way I was thinking. I already know you're hot, shit for brains. But I'm too fucking mad to die tonight, so you're just going to have to come find me another night, because I'm don't want the last thing I feel to be totally pissed off."
Then, he pushes past Brendon and stomps off to his apartment, which is only another couple of blocks away.
Both of his dogs are asleep when he gets in, and he nearly trips over Boba on the way to the bathroom. As he is standing in his bathroom, brushing his teeth, Spencer realizes that maybe it was kind of stupid for him to turn his back to Brendon. He was just too fucking mad over the fact that Brendon wasn't actually this awesome new person that Spencer could discuss drumming with that he didn't even think to be scared.
Spencer opens up his window, looking around suspiciously to make sure that Brendon isn't lurking in the shadows somewhere. He doesn't see anything, but regardless he says, "I'm still angry, so I'm locking the window, and you're better just fuck off for tonight," just in case Brendon can hear him.
--
two.
Now that Spencer knows about that thing where vampires are actually real, the "meetings" that Ryan keeps heading off to all the time have started to make a lot more sense. For one, Spencer probably doesn't need to put the quotation marks around 'meeting' anymore. People who hunt vampires totally have actual meetings. As opposed to the kind of people who talk about vampires and have "meetings" late at night for other reasons.
Knowing that the meetings aren't "meetings", Spencer now feels comfortable in joining Ryan, as Ryan has been trying to convince him to do for months now.
"What's this meeting even about?" Spencer asks, for probably the tenth time.
"Coordination," Ryan says vaguely.
"Whatever that means," Spencer grumbles.
"These are dangerous times," Ryan says. "How are you not more freaked out about this? You were talking to a vampire."
Spencer shrugs. "Yeah, well you left your keys in your door, and then called me because you thought you'd lost them, and then, then, when we heard noises coming from inside, you said, 'It's probably a raccoon,' and went inside anyway. Maybe I'm just used to my life being in danger."
"It was just my landlord; we were fine. I still can't believe you thought I was going goth," Ryan says, and then knocks sharply four times, then slowly twice, on the door.
"Real stealthy code you guys have got there," Spencer says, rolling his eyes.
"Huh?" Ryan asks.
Andy opens the door, then makes Spencer and Ryan stand outside for minutes afterward while he circles around the property to double-check that they hadn't been followed.
While Andy is shaking the bush on the side of the driveway, Spencer says, "I'm just going to go ahead and go inside now," and lets himself in through the front door.
"Spencer," Ryan hisses, and then just misses catching Spencer's sleeve as he tries to yank Spencer back.
Spencer walks through the entrance and looks around. The house looks like a house; Spencer wouldn't guess from the entrance that there are vampire hunters living here, or whatever the heck Pete and his gang are even called.
Ryan sighs at Spencer, and says, "It's not polite to just walk into other people's houses."
"It's not polite to leave people waiting on the front porch," Spencer says.
Finally, Andy comes back inside too, and leads them into the basement.
The basement is a little more menacing, what with the crossbows hanging on the wall and the fact that Joe is yelling loudly as he attacks a dummy with a long stick. Spencer edges around him carefully, wary that he's going to end up with a stick to the face, and flops down on the couch in the corner of the room. Ryan makes a beeline for Pete, and then Spencer has to spend the next fifteen minutes watching as Ryan looks at Pete from under his bangs and offers the occasional sarcastic comment.
Finally, Patrick comes in the room. Spencer is mildly irritated that he already knows all of their names, just from listening to Ryan talk, and from the huge number of Fall Out Boy shows that he has been dragged to. There's a reason why Spencer stopped listening when Ryan talked about Pete, and that reason was that Spencer really didn't need to know the names of Pete's parents, and also the part where the vampire thing seemed weird and creepy before he found out that the vampire thing was actually just scary and creepy.
Everyone settles in a circle as Patrick reads off some notes about something or another. Vampire sightings and kill rates and other boring things with numbers that don't mean a whole lot to Spencer. Is fifteen kills good? What is the baseline, anyway?
Spencer starts daydreaming about what would happen if his university was blown up, and he didn't have to go to class tomorrow. On one hand, it would suck not to be able to go to campus to use the practice rooms, but on the other hand: no class! Either way, it totally helps the meeting pass quicker.
When everyone is starting to pack up, Joe catches Spencer's eye and asks, "You want me to run through some self-defense basics with you?"
"That would actually be really awesome," Spencer says. "Thanks, dude."
Joe teaches Spencer how to duck and how to pull his hands free if someone catches him around the wrists and tries to teach him how to get out of a hold if someone has him from behind, but Spencer isn't too good at that one.
Spencer isn't dressed to sweat, but still there's something exhilarating about learning to use his body like this.
Joe walks across the room, and comes back with a stake in his hand, which he passes over to Spencer.
Spencer examines the sharp point, and Joe says, "Aim for just slightly to the right of the center of the rib cage. You want to pierce the heart."
Spencer frowns. "Do we have to-- I mean, do you really try and kill them? They were people, once. Isn't there something that--"
Joe tilts his head to draw Spencer's attention to the other side of the room where Pete is hitting a punching bag. He's shirtless, and Patrick keeps looking over at him, peeking up over the edge of the book he's pretending to read. Spencer can see that Pete is showing off, and that he keeps glancing over to make sure that Patrick is still watching him.
"There's no cure," Joe says. "Once someone is turned, there's nothing we can do for them. Kill them, or they'll kill you."
"But, Pete's not killing humans," Spencer says.
"It's different with Pete, but only with Pete," Joe says. "He takes these weird herbs and maybe he didn't finish changing all the way or something, I don't know, dude, but it's different with Pete."
Spencer tilts his head to the side and opens his mouth, but Joe cuts him off and says, "I know it's a lot to take in at first, kid, but you've just got to trust us on this. Pete's got his friends and his potions and whatever went wrong when he was first changed, and it's still a struggle for him, every day. There's no cure. It's easier if you, like, stop thinking of them as once being human. Whatever they were, that's gone now. They're not thinking of you as anything other than a tasty meal, I can promise you that."
Spencer nods, slowly.
"Fuck, it's stuffy in here," Joe says. "You wanna go to the backyard?"
"Yeah, okay," Spencer says.
'Going to the backyard' turns out to be a code from smoking up outside, and that's a-okay with Spencer.
He takes a long toke from the joint that Joe passes him and holds it in until his breath runs out.
"Hey, share," Ryan says, flopping down on the grass beside Spencer.
Spencer passes the joint over and waits until the world starts to go a little soft around the edges, until everything feels shifty and bright and the texture of the grass under his fingertips is all that Spencer can think about, all thoughts of vampires and kill-or-be-killed forgotten.
--
three.
Spencer goes to campus. He nearly falls asleep during music composition, so he runs to the caf in between classes. As he's leaving, coffee in hand, he runs into Claire, an oboe player, who promptly bursts into tears because of a guy who has stopped returning her phone calls. He just means to pat her shoulder, but she crumbles in for a hug and won't let go, and Spencer ends up with snot on his shirt and a cold cup of coffee. It's especially annoying because he and Claire hooked up once at the beginning of the semester, and she wouldn't return his calls, but, somehow, seeing her with a blob of snot hanging out of her right nostril kind of feels like revenge enough.
Spencer gets stuck playing the fucking timpani part in orchestra, and he forgets the key signature for E-major during his weekly keyboard 'quiz', stupid fucking required class.
When he's done for the day, he sets up a kit in one of the practice rooms and pounds away until his shoulders ache with exertion instead of from tension.
He plays longer than he means to, and by the time he finishes, the sun has set. Spencer waits at the bus stop and wishes that his car wasn't broken, again. He sits next to a kid whose iPod is turned up loud enough that Spencer can hear it, and who smells pretty fucking rank, and Spencer really wishes that his car wasn't broken.
He watches out the window, keeping his head turned away from the kid, like that will help with the odor maybe, and wonders if it would be worth it to teach lessons to kids and earn enough to fix his stupid car once and for all. Or to buy a new one, even. Spencer likes drumming and he doesn't hate children, but he does despise trying to teach things to them, which is why he hasn't started giving lessons, like almost all of the other music students do. There's a high school a few blocks over from campus, and it's never hard to find kids to teach.
Spencer steps off the bus and heads for home, walking on autopilot. When he hears footsteps behind himself, he moves to the outer edge of the sidewalk, making room for the person to pass. Whoever it is speeds up their pace, but doesn't actually pass Spencer. He looks beside himself, and says, "Oh, shit, you. Yeah."
"Me," Brendon agrees. He's wearing a dark green tie and a cream vest, but no hat tonight.
"I was kind of kidding about the you-killing-me thing," Spencer says. "I mean, if there's a choice between those two options."
"Between, like, killing you and just nibbling a little bit?" Brendon asks.
"I was thinking more between killing me and...not killing me," Spencer says. "But nibbling is a remarkably friendly word for 'suck your blood', so thanks for that."
"Yeah, no problem," Brendon says. "I probably can't kill you just yet, anyway, because Ryan probably told Pete about me, and then if you die they'll, like, target me or something, and that would suck. Also, William wants us to keep a low profile, and going after one of Pete's new pets would probably count as baiting him or something."
"I'm not a pet," Spencer says. "But, thanks, I guess. For now, anyway."
"Sure thing," Brendon says. He sighs. "There are a lot of rules and stuff, and it's pretty annoying. Anyway, I'm pretty sure that vampires are supposed to terrorize people for a while first anyway, so, you know. Watch your back, blah blah blah."
"You're 'pretty sure'?" Spencer asks. "What, are you new or something?"
"I'm two-hundred and fifty-seven," Brendon brags.
"How do you not know what you're supposed to do then?"
"Oh," Brendon says. "I know what I normally do, it's just that everyone has their own style, but now that Pete's little group is telling everyone about us, I guess there are going to be certain expectations or whatever."
"What's your style?" Spencer asks.
When he grins, Brendon looks pretty wicked, but not necessarily in a creature-of-the-night kind of way. Brendon grins and he looks wicked and a little cheeky, and he says, "Hey now, that would be telling."
--
Brendon walks Spencer to his apartment, and Spencer says, "Well, this is me."
Brendon nods, tucking his fingers into his pockets.
"Wait, shit," Spencer says. "You already knew that, right? I didn't just lead you to my house?"
Brendon laughs, and Spencer can't help grinning back. He's not too good at this being-stalked thing.
"I already knew," Brendon reassures him. "How else would I know where to find you in the first place?"
"I don't know," Spencer says. "How did you know where to find me?"
"Well, for one thing you were stomping really loudly," Brendon says. "Did you have a bad day or something?"
"Not exactly," Spencer says. "Just, like, I don't know. There are things to do, and I know what I'd need to do to get them done, but sometimes it's really hard to make myself go through the motions, I guess."
Brendon says, "Yeah," his head tilted to the side as he nods.
Spencer starts saying, "You know when you've already decided what you're going to do, but--" before he cuts himself off. "Hey!" he exclaims. "You're doing that thing again, with the listening. Stop it."
"I was not," Brendon says. "What the fuck?"
"Maybe it wasn't a pity fuck listen this time, but you're gathering information about your enemies, or something. You're listening with other motives."
"Spencer," Brendon says, slowly. "You totally do not even count as an enemy. Do you know how easy you'd be to kill? You learned about vampires and you didn't even think to go buy a cross."
"Ryan has some," Spencer says.
Brendon's eyes roll up in his head. "And do you expect Ryan to be coming along sometime soon?"
"Well, he usually comes at the most inopportune moment," Spencer says. "But I guess it's not impossible that he might come along now."
"It'd be like stealing marshmallow fluff from a baby lamb," Brendon says. "You totally don't count as an enemy."
"Hey," Spencer says. "You don't see me insulting your whole walking-undead thing, do you? There's no need to make this nasty."
"What would you even say?" Brendon squawks.
"Well other than that, 'Grr' thing, I wouldn't even know that you're a vampire. Plus, you haven't done anything weird or creepy or whatever." Spencer runs his fingers through his hair. "Not that was a suggestion, though, okay? Maybe pretend I didn't say that last part."
"Maybe pretend like you're not telling me how to scare you better?" Brendon deadpans. "Yeah, okay, I think I can do that. Anyway, I already told you: I don't need the help."
"So, you just, like, stalk and kill people all the time?" Spencer asks.
"I usually don't stalk them too much," Brendon says. "There's no need. Just a little, 'Hey, you want to go somewhere more private?' usually does the trick."
Spencer makes a face. "That's kind of tacky," he says. "Does that actually work for you?"
"It worked for me last night," Brendon says. "It's likely going to work again when I head off tonight."
"Oh," Spencer says, considering. "You bit someone else last night?"
"Well, I didn't bite you," Brendon says. "I have to feed."
"I guess," Spencer says. He shrugs off his backpack and sits down on the steps leading up to his apartment.
"What?" Brendon asks.
"I don't know. I just realized that I forgot my history of music text in the practice room and I have a midterm tomorrow, and there isn't time to make it to and from campus before the buses stop running."
"That sucks," Brendon says.
Spencer sighs. "Yeah. Anyway, don't let me keep you. I'm just going to wallow outside for a little while. I'm so fucking sick of sitting in my apartment."
Brendon shrugs. "I've got some time," he says, and settles onto the step beside Spencer.
--
"It's not that I don't like Schubert," Brendon says. "I'm just saying that he's a little overrated."
"Dude, if everyone and their cat plays your pieces, it doesn't mean you're overrated," Spencer says. "It just means that you're a genius."
Brendon scoffs. "So, what's your jazz ensemble playing?" he asks.
"We got this new piece by-- oh, fuck, I forgot already. What's it called? Something Fighting Song? Fighting Song something? I can't remember. The bass part at the beginning is pretty sweet, but there's not so much to do with the drumming part."
"At least you don't have to play timpani for that," Brendon says.
"So true," Spencer says. "So true." He glances down on his watch, and does a double take when he realizes that it's past eleven. "I've still got some homework," he says. "I can't believe how late it is."
"Yeah," Brendon says. "I'd better take off." He stands up and dusts off the back of his pants. "I'll be watching you," Brendon says. "Or, I don't know. Until next time? Is that scarier?"
"I think that the scariest one is probably, 'I'm going to go kill someone right now because I need to eat,'" Spencer says, and then immediate wishes that he hadn't.
Brendon stares down at him without saying anything, before shrugging and looking away. He doesn't sound apologetic, not exactly, but there's something in his voice when he says, "Night, Spence."
Brendon turns and walks down the street, moving quickly and easily before disappearing into one of the shadows. Spencer watches until he can't see him anymore, then looks down at his hands, resting on his bent knees, and exhales slowly.
He pushes up to his feet and walks up the rest of the stairs, walks into his apartment.
--
four.
Spencer's bus is early and he gets to class before the professor. He doodles in his notebook for a little while, as the other students start trickling in.
The semester is going to be over in a month, and Spencer still hasn't said one word to anyone in this class, so he turns to the guy next to him and says, "Have you done the homework?"
"Nope," the guys says.
"Oh," Spencer says. "Me neither."
The guy gives a little nod, then turns on his iPod, shoving the headphones into his ears.
Spencer slumps down in his seat, already watching the clock and class hasn't even started yet.
--
That night, Ryan calls and says, "We're going to a show tonight."
Spencer groans. "I'm pretty sure that Fall Out Boy songs are the soundtrack to my dreams now. Can we not?"
"Fall Out Boy isn't playing," Ryan says. "It's some band I can't remember opening for Empires."
"Who's Empires?" Spencer asks. He's pretty sure he's never heard of them before.
"Jon's friend Tom is in the band," Ryan says.
"Who's Jon?" Spencer asks.
"A guy who has a friend in a band," Ryan says. "I'll meet you at nine."
--
Empires isn't quite as catchy as Fall Out Boy, which is fucking awesome because Spencer is so incredibly sick of having songs stuck in his head all the time. Spencer bops along with the beat from where he's standing, a few meters back from the stage. The club isn't all that crowded, but everyone there seems to have their undivided attention on the stage.
The set finishes and Spencer yells, "You want anything?" Jon is laughing hard at something that Ryan said and they don't answer, so he walks off to the bar by himself.
Spencer orders himself a beer, and considers bringing one back for Ryan and Jon as well, but decides that he doesn't have enough hands. He props himself up on one of the stools and finishes half of his beer in one long drink.
A blonde with sparkly purple eyeshadow stumbles, and Spencer reaches out to catch her arm.
She giggles, then looks over at him, before giggling again.
"Whoops," she says.
Spencer smiles and lets go of her arm.
She giggles again (the music is too loud for Spencer to actually hear the sound, but it's still obvious what she's doing), then leans in, closer than she needs to, and yells, "Hi!"
"Hi," Spencer yells back.
She doesn't move away, and yells, "How are you?"
"I'm good," Spencer yells. "You?"
"I'm kind of drunk," she says, but in the way where it's an invitation.
"Is that something you're...working on?" Spencer asks, which makes her giggle again.
She says, "Maybe," and then, "How about you buy me a drink?"
--
They say maybe one hundred words to each other in the time it takes for Spencer to buying her three Malibu and Cokes, then they make out against the corner of the stage until Ryan and Jon come to collect him. Drunk girls are not very good kissers, but it actually tastes a lot better to make out with someone who's been drinking Malibu and Coke than someone who's been drinking beer, not that she seemed to mind the taste on Spencer's tongue. She sways unsteadily against him, but Spencer hasn't been touched in a long time, and it's something like a relief just to have another body pressed against him.
He kisses her again before he leaves, the press of her small body against his own, and wonders if he should try to ask her back to his place. Ryan and Jon are waiting though, and she seems like she might need a little coaxing, so even though he's pretty sure he could get her to say yes, he just lifts her hand, kisses the back, and waves goodnight.
"Oh, you're suave," Ryan says, as they would out into the cool night air.
"Shove it," Spencer says.
--
The cab drops Spencer off a block from his apartment, and Spencer waves goodbye to Ryan and Jon, who are still sitting in the backseat.
Spencer wonders if the cab will have two more stops, or just the one. Jon seemed into Ryan, but Spencer still doesn't actually know if Ryan fucks guys. Every time Spencer thinks he's meeting Ryan's boyfriend, it turns out that Ryan's actually dating the blonde that shows up halfway through the night.
Spencer turns the corner towards his apartment, and rolls his eyes when Brendon steps out of the shadows.
"Ooh," Spencer says. "How frightening and mysterious."
Brendon scowls at him and makes a point of baring his teeth in such a way that they flash white in the moonlight.
"Oh, that was actually kind of creepy," Spencer says.
"Thanks," Brendon says, putting his teeth away and smiling. "You have fun tonight?"
Spencer makes a so-so hand gesture. "I liked the band," he says.
Brendon hums, "Mh-hm," and then steps into Spencer's space.
He tilts his head, leaning in close until he's just about touching Spencer's skin, and brushes his nose down Spencer's neck in a long line. Shivers pool in the base of Spencer's spine, and he forces himself to take a breath before stepping back.
"I can smell the...'band' all over you," Brendon says, looking at Spencer straight on.
"Yeah, well," Spencer says. He lifts his hand up and covers his neck with his palm. His skin is buzzing where Brendon touched him, and it's the strangest feeling. "Not all over me," Spencer says.
"Yeah?" Brendon asks, taking another step closer.
Spencer forces himself to square off his shoulders instead of retreating backwards. He shrugs.
"Why not?" Brendon asks.
Spencer shrugs again.
Brendon actually waits for an answer though, and Spencer sighs, talking over to sit down on the steps in front of his apartment building, Brendon following behind.
"So?" Brendon asks, when they're both sitting.
"Just didn't feel like it, I guess," Spencer finally says. "Thanks for your concern though."
Brendon twists his body so that he can lean back against the brick wall, looking over at Spencer. "You've been drinking," he says.
"I have been drinking," Spencer says. He pushes the tips of his fingers into the concrete step. "I should have drank more or less though, because I'm still drunk, but not enough to pass out."
Brendon keeps watching him, and Spencer hopes that he isn't going to die, right out here on the front steps leading up to his apartment building. He wonders if anyone would hear him if he screamed; it's late, everyone's probably sleep by now.
Finally Brendon says, "I actually only planned as far as jumping out of the shadows. I really thought that was going to scare you more than it did."
"Sorry?" Spencer says, and Brendon waves his hand.
"No matter," Brendon says. "I'll come up with something else."
"I didn't see you until you jumped out," Spencer offers. "That was pretty stealthy, at least." He smiles at Brendon.
Brendon laughs, and Spencer isn't sure why. He stands, grinning down at Spencer, and says, "You're friendly when you're drunk. I'm sorry I have to go so soon."
"It's okay," Spencer says. He takes his hand when Brendon reaches out, and lets Brendon pull him up to his feet. Brendon's hand is dry and cool, and Spencer wonders if that's what Brendon's skin feels like all over.
"Things to do and whatnot," Brendon says, somewhat apologetically. Still, he stands on the sidewalk and waits until Spencer has the door open before he turns and walks away.
--
five.
Spencer goes to class, listens to his professor drone on about the different modes or modal something or another for fifteen minutes, then sneaks out the back door to find a drink of water. Then, he goes to the washroom. After that, he thinks that maybe he's just go low blood sugar, so he wanders off in search of a vending machine. He doesn't want to make noise in class, so he sits on a bench in the hall and eats his Munchie Mix. By the time he's done, there's only another twenty minutes of class left. It seems like there's no point in going back in, so Spencer just hangs around in the hallway until people start leaving the lecture hall, then sneaks back into the room to grab his clipboard.
He leaves campus and tucks in at the coffee shop near his apartment, trying to get some studying done for the midterm that he has tomorrow. History of music is fucking boring to study, and he wouldn't take it, except that it's a required class. Spencer's one of the only people there who's sitting at a table by himself. He wonders if it would be easier to study in a group. He wonders how he's supposed to meet people to form a group with, anyway. In a class of two hundred plus kids, it's hard to make any kind of personal connection. Plus, every time he tries, it turns out his classmates are assholes. Spencer thought going to college was going to be this life-opening experience, but he still just hangs out with Ryan all the time.
Spencer turns up his iPod loud to try and block some of the chatter of the shop, and ends up spending more time listening to music than actually studying. He buys an overpriced sandwich for dinner, and another latte. He tells himself that he can go home if he finishes to the end of the chapter, but ends up packing up before he's even half done.
When Spencer gets home, he finds Brendon sitting on his floor, playing with his dogs.
"I guess the whole needing-to-be-invited-in thing is just a myth," Spencer says, throwing his keys into the dish by the door.
"Oh, yeah," Brendon says. "Maybe it was true centuries ago, when it was more clear who actually held property, but these days, it's pretty hard to find a place that I can't get into. Apartments are kind of bottom of the barrel, if you're hoping to keep a vampire out."
"Huh," Spencer says. "Vampires don't respect renting?"
Brendon laughs.
"What are you going here, anyway?" Spencer asks.
"Oh," Brendon says, looking sheepish. "So, I thought that maybe I'd come in and, like, hang your dogs in the shower or something."
"Milo, Boba!" Spencer calls, trying to urge his dogs away from Brendon. They look up, but don't move away.
Brendon pats Milo on the head. He says, "Oh, don't give me that look, I obviously didn't follow through."
Spencer's face twists up. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he yells. "You can't come into someone's house and kill their fucking dogs, you fucking retard."
"Well, I can," Brendon says. "Since I'm a fucking vampire. And lower your voice, so that I don't have to kill your neighbours when they knock on the door to find out what the problem is."
"Get the fuck out of my house," Spencer says. "Ryan's coming over tonight, and if he finds my body, Pete will be the first person he calls."
Brendon stands up and walks over to Spencer. He isn't tall, but his eyes are flashing almost red, and when he gets into Spencer's space, it's all Spencer can do not to take a step back.
"You should stop being so stupid," Brendon says, his face twisted back into a snarl that shows a whole lot of teeth.
"You should stop being such an asshole," Spencer says, but slowly he can feel the anger draining out of his body. It's easy to be scared and angry at the same time, but Spencer's moving into panicked and scared, and it's hard to hold onto anger on top of that. "Coming in and say, saying the shit you were saying about my dogs."
Spencer knows that his voice is trembling a little bit, but all that he can think of is what it would have been like to come home and find his dogs dead. When Spencer is low on money, he buys the dog food first and then sees what is left over for groceries.
Brendon's eyes are still doing the weird glowing thing, but he sighs, and steps back the half-inch it takes for Spencer to stop feeling like he's being crowded.
"It was just a thought," Brendon says. "You have really nice dogs, okay? I wouldn't actually do anything to them. Vampires can't drink animal blood; we don't have anything against pets."
Spencer nods tightly, and then wraps his arms around his torso. As the adrenalin drains, he's left feeling shaky and cold.
He says, "When you kill me, you have to let the dogs out, or something. Give them a chance to find someone new to take care of them. I know I can't ask you to take them over to Ryan's, but at least you can't leave them locked in here, okay?"
"Yeah," Brendon says, softly. "Yeah, okay, I'll do that."
"Promise?" Spencer asks.
"I won't leave them to starve," Brendon says. "I wouldn't have anyway, but, seriously. I won't."
"Thanks," Spencer says. He wishes that his hands would stop shaking.
Brendon nods, and his eyes don't seem to be glowing any more, even though Spencer can still see the sharp ridge of his teeth.
"Are you going to kill me tonight?" Spencer asks.
Brendon shakes his head and sighs. "No, Spence, not tonight."
"Okay," Spencer says, then walks stiffly across the room to sit on his couch. His knees are feeling all weird and rubbery. He leans against the arm of the couch and then pulls his feet up under him.
Brendon says, "I'll go now." He walks over to Spencer and, standing beside the couch, reaches out to give Spencer's arm a little squeeze. "I'm really not going to do anything to your dogs."
Spencer exhales. "Okay," he says. Then, "Thanks." Then, "If you're not going to kill me, I kind of have a midterm tomorrow that I need to study for."
He sits in pointed silence until Brendon lets himself out the front door.
--
Spencer's fucking tired, tired and drained and really ready to sleep, but when he gets into bed, he can't manage to drift off. His body stays all wired, listening for sounds in the night. He calls both of the dogs into his bedroom, even though he usually makes them sleep in the hall. It helps to know they're there, but having them in the room means that there are more noises through the night, every time they stand or move or roll over, and each sound makes Spencer's skin prickle.
He should just get up and try to fit in some last night cramming, but Spencer stubbornly stays in bed, awake, for the entire night, hoping that he's going to fall asleep, without actually managing to do so.
When the sun rises, he walks to his kitchen and drinks a glass of water. Then, he lies down on the couch and stays there for the rest of the day, skipping all of his classes.
--
six.
After a few more nights of tossing and turning, Spencer calls Ryan to come over, hoping for some distraction.
Ryan does him one better, and shows up with his bong and a dimebag of weed.
"I knew there was a reason why I keep calling you," Spencer says. "I'll go find some beer."
--
Spencer doesn't know why he's laughing, but he has his hand pressed flat to his own chest, and he can feel the vibrations, the way his stomach clenches up each time he giggles.
"It's all shifty," he says to Ryan, who ignores him in favor of trying to get his pair of huge sunglasses to balance on top of his head. "Why did you even wear those?" Spencer asks, aware of the way his words are slurring a little. "It's night."
He almost expects Ryan to break out into song -- Spencer's brainvoice is singing away happily -- but Ryan just grins, then blinks, than says, "Wait, what did you just say?"
"I need to eat something," Spencer says. It's hard work, but he manages to climb up to his feet. The carpet is so soft between his toes, squish, squish, squish, as he walks over to the kitchen. It's like he's walking on cotton candy, kinda.
He whispers to himself, "Squish, squish," and treads carefully on his way to the kitchen.
--
Ryan lies on the floor and squints up at Spencer. Spencer reaches out his toes to try and poke Ryan in the forehead. He can't quite reach though, and he sighs.
Ryan makes a smug face at him, then rolls over, sitting up and saying, "You okay?"
Spencer nods. "'m good," he says.
"Not, like, now," Ryan says. "Like always."
Spencer tilts his head to one side, but it doesn't help Ryan's words make any more sense, so he tilts his head to the other side. That doesn't work either.
"I'm good," Spencer says again. "How are you?"
Ryan smiles. "I'm good. I just finished this story, right? About a guy who has a calendar business, and then he learns how to reinvent love," Ryan says. "There are metaphors."
Spencer grins, and he says, "That's awesome, Ryan. You should let me read it."
"It still has to be workshopped," Ryan says.
"No, no, I want to read it before then," Spencer says. "You always get all bummed out about your stuff after workshops. I want to read it while you still like it."
Ryan says, "I do still like it." He runs his fingers through his bangs, smiling to himself. "I wonder if you will like it?" he ponders, stretching the words out.
Spencer shakes his head a little, still smiling.
--
Ryan leaves, and Spencer is sitting on his couch eating Nutella straight out of the jar when he hears a knocking on his window. He stands up and makes his way over, opening the window and squinting outside.
"How did you even get up here?" Spencer asks, awed.
Brendon gives him a look and says, "The fire escape."
"Oh yeah," Spencer says. "Yes. Right. Also, you can't fly."
"Nope," Brendon says. "Are we just doing an inventory?"
Spencer makes a face and asks, "What are you even talking about?" and Brendon throws his head back and laughs. Spencer watches his throat, then catches himself, hoping that Brendon isn't doing the same to him.
Spencer traces his fingers along the windowsill, getting distracted by the feel of the wood under his fingertips.
"Spencer," Brendon finally says, and Spencer's head snaps back up.
"Yeah?"
"I, umm--" Brendon crosses his arms over his chest and puffs out his cheeks. "I didn't come to scare you tonight," he eventually says.
Spencer keeps touching the window sill. "Okay," he says. He wonders if Brendon knows that he hasn't been sleeping. Even now, with his head all soft and mellow, Spencer can feel his palms starting to sweat.
"Just-- Can I come in?" Brendon asks.
"Thought you didn't need an invitation," Spencer says, looking at his hands, not at Brendon.
"I don't," Brendon says. "But I'm asking."
Spencer exhales, then steps back from the window to give Brendon room to crawl inside. The dogs are hiding in Spencer's bedroom -- they don't like the smell of smoke -- and Spencer's glad that they aren't in the room when Brendon's steps through the window.
Spencer walks back to the couch, curling up and grabbing the Nutella again. He dips the back of the spoon inside, then licks chocolate off the handle.
"Why don't you use the spoon part?" Brendon asks.
"I don't want to get too much," Spencer says. "That would be gross."
Brendon snorts. "Right, of course. My bad."
"You want some?" Spencer offers, and Brendon shakes his head no.
--
"What's it like to be bitten?" Spencer asks. He doesn't really mean to ask, but the weed is making him a little bit jittery, or maybe that's just because he's coming off his high, or maybe it's the beer, whatever. He doesn't mean to ask, but there the words are, anyway.
Brendon looks at him for a long moment. "It depends on the person, I guess. Depends on who's doing the biting."
Spencer looks down, and then nods. He doesn't ask any more questions.
He sits quietly, his head resting against the back of the couch, and slowly his eyes start drooping shut. He catches himself each time, forcing himself to blink awake again. Brendon is still and quiet on the other end of the couch, which maybe should be unnerving, but is something like a comfort. Maybe it’s because when Brendon's here, Spencer doesn't have to wonder where he is, doesn't have to wonder what he's doing.
Brendon sits on the other end of the couch, cross-legged and facing forward. He turns his head towards Spencer, and Spencer watches out of the corner of his eye, wary. Brendon doesn't say anything for a long time, and Spencer's eyes start drooping again.
Eventually, Brendon says, "You're tired; you should sleep more."
Spencer turns his head to give Brendon a pointed look, then leans back against the couch again.
"I'm not going to do anything when you're sleeping," Brendon says. "Don't look at me like that."
Spencer looks over at him again, in exactly the same way.
"I'm not," Brendon says. "It's not exactly great fun to sneak up on a sleeping person. I'd want you awake and wiggling."
Spencer stares until his eyes go dry. He blinks, and just-- He blinks again, and the hysterical giggles rise out of his chests and he laughs and laughs until there are tears in his eyes, and then he holds his hand over his mouth to try and keep the sounds back in.
He coughs into his fist and says, "You're not very comforting."
Brendon shrugs, unapologetic.
Spencer curls up in the arm of the couch, his head resting on one of the throw pillows. The couch is big enough that his feet don't touch Brendon, still sitting at the other end.
"Are you finally going to get some sleep?" Brendon asks.
"Not while you're here," Spencer says.
Brendon shifts, crossing his legs, and they settle back into silence.
--
When Spencer wakes, the sun has risen and his neck hurts like a motherfucker from sleeping against the arm of the couch. Spencer flies to his feet, looking around the room, but Brendon's obviously long gone. Spencer wonders when he dozed off, how long he's been asleep for.
He runs to the bedroom, where the dogs are curled up together. They're sleeping, just sleeping. They're fine.
Spencer walks around his apartment. He doesn't know what he's looking for, and eventually just makes his way to the bathroom, dry swallowing three aspirin and walking back to his bedroom. He hopes that when he wakes up again, his head doesn't hurt so badly.
--
seven.
Spencer doesn't see Brendon for a week, and then there he is again, waiting in front of Spencer's apartment when Spencer comes home, arms loaded up with grocery bags.
Brendon reaches out to take a couple from him, and Spencer passes them over, doesn't make a fuss when Brendon follows him up to his place.
Spencer puts away the things that need to be refrigerated while Brendon wanders his apartment, not touching anything, but peering around with interest. Spencer wonders if this means that Brendon didn't snoop when he was here, alone, the last time.
"What are these?" Brendon asks. Spencer can't see what he's holding, so he leaves the rest of the groceries and walks to the living room.
Brendon holds up Spencer's small stack of piano repertoire.
"All of the music majors have to learn piano," Spencer says, taking the books from Brendon. "You need to, to graduate, which blows, since I fucking suck."
"You don't have a piano," Brendon notes, looking around the room.
"No," Spencer says. "I don't even have room to set up my drums in this shitty place. The neighbours would complain, anyway. I practice on campus. Well, I've got a practice pad that I can use here, but, yeah. I definitely practice piano on campus."
"You're not very close to the university," Brendon says.
"Nope," Spencer says. "And when I'm there, I'd rather work on something percussion related. I guess there's a reason why I suck so bad."
"I have a piano," Brendon says.
"Cool."
Brendon looks around Spencer's apartment one more time, then says, "You can practice on mine."
Spencer laughs. "I doubt that either of us would want that," he says. "I wasn't kidding when I said that I sucked."
"I can show you some stuff," Brendon says.
"You play?"
Brendon nods.
"I guess in two hundred and whatever years, you pick up a few things along the way," Spencer says.
Brendon shakes his head and says, "No, I learned when I was a boy. I've learned other instruments over the years, but I've played piano for as long as I can remember."
"I managed to convince my parents to let me play drums instead of piano," Spencer says. "I thought I got away with something, but I guess everything catches up with you in the end."
Brendon gives him a little smile. "Well, come on then," he says.
"Wha-at?" Spencer stutters. "Now? Come to-- Go to your place? With you? Right now?"
"Sure," Brendon says. "When's your next recital?"
"We have playing tests every Friday, but, I mean. I don't know that--"
"Spencer," Brendon says. "I could kill you here just as easy as I can kill you at my house. Except that if I kill you at my place then I'll have to clean up the mess, and I fucking hate cleaning. Now stop being a dick about this."
"You still aren't very comforting," Spencer says, but he follows Brendon when Brendon starts walking to the door.
"I'm not trying to be comforting," Brendon says. "However, I can help you pass your playing thing."
--
Brendon's condo is about a twenty minute walk from Spencer's apartment. It's nice, way nicer than anywhere Spencer's ever lived, but other than the thick curtains covering all of the windows, Spencer would never have guessed that it's the home of a vampire. There are no dead bodies, for one.
Brendon has a grand piano in the living room and an upright in his den. He has a music room with guitars hanging across the entirety of one of the walls. There's an upright bass in one corner and what looks like an accordion in the other. A couple of cellos lie down on the floor.
"Jesus," Spencer says, after Brendon finishes giving him the tour. "Can you really play all of these?"
Brendon nods. "I like music," he says. "The world keeps on changing, but music is the one thing that I can always hold with me."
"Do your neighbours mind you playing so late at night?" Spencer asks. "I wouldn't image that you're up too much during the day."
"The walls are soundproofed," Brendon says, casually. "So, which piano do you want to play?"
Spencer swallows, then gestures down to hall towards the den. "The upright. I don't think I'm quite up to a grand yet."
--
Brendon, as it turns out, is secretly in cahoots with Spencer's professors. It's the only thing that can possibly explain why he makes Spencer sit at the piano for an hour and fifteen minutes -- an hour and fifteen minutes-- and practice scales the entire time. Scales! The entire time!
Spencer's pinkie hurts by the end of it, and his back, but at least his hands seem to know how to play E-major, even if his brain takes a little longer to come up with the key signature. Spencer wishes that there was just one scale that they were asked to play in different time signatures. He would rock the shit out of that kind of playing test.
He rolls his shoulders and groans loudly when his shoulders pop.
"You have terrible posture," Brendon says, which is something Spencer has heard, word for word before, from his grey haired piano professor. "You need to sit up straight."
Spencer glares, then stands up off of the piano bend, stretching his hands up to the ceiling and trying to stretch out his back.
Brendon sits on a chair beside the piano, and makes I-told-you-so eyes at Spencer.
"You play something," Spencer says.
Brendon moves from the chair to the piano bench and looks down at the keyboard. He plays this weird piece that Spencer's never heard before. It's kind of classical, but mostly sounds like something that one would hear at a carnival. It's kind of beautiful.
"What was that?" Spencer asks when Brendon finishes.
"A song," Brendon says, shrugging.
"I thought you were going to play Moonlight Sonata or something," Spencer says.
Brendon plays the first few bars, then stops, rolling his eyes.
"I'm not that clichéd," Brendon says.
Then, he pounds out Music of the Night from Phantom of the Opera while Spencer laughs.
--
Spencer stands in Brendon's kitchen and drinks a glass of water. Brendon has glasses, but nothing to drink. Spencer's scared to open the fridge to check, but he thinks that it's just empty.
"It's late," he says, looking down at his watch. He finishes the water then sets the glass on the counter. "Thanks for, you know, the piano lesson."
"Sure thing," Brendon says. He follows Spencer when Spencer walks to the front door, but once they're there, he starts to put on his shoes.
"What are you doing?" Spencer asks.
"Walking you home."
"It's cool," Spencer says. "I remember the way back. There's no need for you to come."
Brendon looks over at Spencer and shakes his head. "You think that I'm the only vampire that lives around here?" Brendon asks. "If I'm not killing you tonight, no one is."
Spence can feel his eyes go wide. His voice cracks when he says, "Um, okay. Right then. Off we go."
--
Spencer stands awkwardly at the door to his apartment building and says, "So, thanks, I guess. Goodnight."
"Night," Brendon says, but he doesn't move away. He's standing just on this side of too close, and Spencer hunches his shoulders, curling in on himself.
Brendon takes another step closer, close enough that Spencer can feel their clothes brushing. He leans in, his face brushing Spencer's cheek, and Spencer freezes. His heart pounds wildly, but his breath stays trapped in his chest. Spencer holds completely still, but Brendon just pushes up on his toes a little until he can reach, and pecks Spencer on the cheek.
He pulls back, and Spencer's breath comes whooshing out loudly.
"Sleep well," Brendon says, then turns and walks off into the night.
Spencer fumbles with his keys, and has to stand for long minutes, waiting until his hands stop shaking enough that he can let himself in. He presses his forehead against the door and waits for feeling to return to his legs.
--
Onto Part Two.