WIP amnesty!
So everyone seems to be cleaning out their stalled fics, and I can honestly say I only have a few. Sadly, one of them is the Cruel Intentions AU, because I really can't figure out how to make this story not be completely miserable in the end. I don't like writing about making Jon sadface everywhere. :(
But first, here is 1000 words of a Brendon/Jon/Spencer fic that would've lead to a lot of porn at some point. *sigh*
Blindfold [WIP]
Brendon/Jon/Spencer | 1000 words
For once, Brendon was actually excited when the invitation arrived at the store.
"About time I could go," he mumbled under his breath as he read over the burgundy-colored invite printed on heavy cardstock. Gabe's annual carnival parties were legendary, and he made sure every year to invite the staff of Chromatic Music to the festivities. But for the last three years, something always came up that kept Brendon away; flu season, family emergencies, painful break-ups.
"Oh hey, Gabe's party!" Spencer announced happily, plucking the invite out of Brendon's hands. "It's a little early this year, right?"
"Naw, it's usually around Mardi Gras," Jon replied as he wandered into Brendon's office behind Spencer. The two of them stood in front of Brendon's desk and read over the details, like they hadn't gone to the damn thing every year for practically forever.
Spencer smirked and nudged Jon in the ribs with his elbow. "This why you turned down Tom's invitation to go to New Orleans?"
"Tom just wants to do arty shit and then get trashed. I can do that here." Jon nudged him back, and they laughed at each other, low and soft, their heads ducked close, like usual.
Brendon huffed and looked back down at the pile of mail on his desk. It wasn't anything he didn't see every single day at work, but as much as he loved his business partners, he was tired of the constant eyefucking. They needed to just hook up and get it over with so Brendon didn't feel like a third wheel whenever he was alone in a room with them.
It didn't have anything to do with the little tug he felt in his chest every time he caught Spencer glancing at Jon's mouth, or the way he hated Jon's infatuation with Spencer's hands. At least, that's what Brendon told himself over and over. He just missed having his two best friends being...well, platonic. Like in the old days, when the three of them were building their music publishing business from scratch out of Jon's tiny apartment.
"So, Bren, you're going, right?" Jon hopped up on the edge of the desk and swung his legs idly.
Brendon shrugged. "I haven't decided yet, to be honest. We've got that big shipment coming in from Universal, and those new piano books need to be--"
"Dude." Spencer spread his hands flat out on the desk and leaned forward, eyes suddenly seriously. His hands were broad and pale against the dark mahogany, the bones of his wrists almost elegant. Okay, so Brendon knew why Jon might be a little obsessed. "You have to go this year, you've never even been! It's not the same without you there."
Brendon rolled his eyes, but he felt his cheeks flush slightly. "Yeah, the drunken debauchery and nakedness just doesn't ring true without me," he drawled, tossing a bill at Jon. "Here, it's your turn to pay the electric."
Jon made a face, which involved a lot of nose-scrinching and lip-pouting. "I paid them last month."
"Nope, that was Spence. You know how to use Excel, Jon." Brendon tried to give him his best bitchface, but that was next to impossible with Jon's fucking wide-eyed Bambi stare.
"You're heartless and cold, B."
"And yet you still love me." Brendon pursed his lips at Jon, who promptly dropped the pouting act and laughed.
"It's true, I do." He winked at Brendon and saluted him with the electric bill. Brendon immediately stomped down the automatic flutter in his stomach. He was used to it by now. Mostly.
Spencer grabbed one of Brendon's mechanical pencils and pointed it at him. "No excuses this year, okay? You're going, I don't care if I have to drag you there myself."
"And I'll help," Jon added.
Brendon threw up his hands, laughing. "All right, Jesus! No one's dragging me anywhere, I do have a modicum of pride left."
Spencer snorted. "You wore one of your sister's old cheerleading camp t-shirts to work yesterday."
"Hey, that shirt is super comfy and I needed to do laundry, fuck off."
"I'm pretty sure I've seen you sleep in it, too."
It was the dumbest thing ever to blush over the thought of Spencer remembering what Brendon slept in, seeing as how both he and Jon stayed over at his place all the time. But that was because Brendon lived the closest to the store, which meant easy walking distance after happy hour at the bar across the street. There had been more drunken sleepovers at Brendon's apartment than he cared to count, not to mention too many mornings where Brendon walked into the living room barely awake to find Jon and Spencer curled up together on the air mattress.
"Whatever, okay, fine, I'll go! Although I seriously don't need this abuse from you two--I'm still in mourning, after all."
Jon sighed. "That was over a year ago, and you're fine. Besides, Spence and I live to torture you, didn't you know? Duh." He grinned at Brendon, giving him a thumbs up before sliding off the desk.
Spencer laughed and shook his head. "Seriously, you and Shane still go out for drinks, for fuck's sake. You're more than fine." He leaned closer and added, softly, "We want you to go, Bren. It'll be fun."
Brendon absolutely hated it when Spencer used that tone of voice on him. It was like a superpower or something, rendering Brendon powerless to stop him from doing just about anything, including melting his resolve. "All right," he replied, just as softly, and the smile Spencer gave him in return was worth it.
"Awesome," Jon said from the doorway, obviously waiting on Spencer to follow him out. "You've made my day, and I haven't even had coffee yet."
"Jesus, and you're upright?" Spencer said, smirking at Jon on his way out the door. "Fucking miracle."
"Smart ass," Jon mumbled, and playfully shoved Spencer's shoulder.
They were so wrapped up in each other that Brendon let himself take in the curve of Spencer's hips in his jeans, the sturdy slope of Jon's shoulders, the way Jon's hand seemed to fit perfectly over Spencer's bicep when he pushed him.
He blinked a few times, swallowing. They did fit perfectly together, and it wasn't their fault that it meant Brendon didn't fit anywhere at all.
Aaaaand the infamous Cruel Intentions AU...
the kind you could sing [WIP]
Jon/Spencer | 2700 words
The summer before Spencer was to start his freshman year of high school, his parents up and decided to move to the other side of the city. Which meant, among other things, that Spencer would be changing schools.
It also meant Spencer's plans of finally being back in the same school with his best friend after a year of being a part were completed and utterly shot.
"I'm only twenty minutes away?" Ryan had said as a way of comfort. But it didn't matter; Spencer was still going to be all alone in a pricey Catholic school his parents thought he deserved. Ryan could have been right across the street and it wouldn't have made a bit of difference.
He could have chosen to be the weird new kid and hoped for the best, maybe cultivated a small close-knit group of friends. But instead, he somehow drew the attention the most popular clique in school, full of filthy rich trust fund babies who partied too much and got straight A's like an afterthought. It didn't make him happy, being accepted by The Elite, but it got him through school with mild looks of contempt and envy instead of sneers and mockery. It got him by.
Then Jon Walker transferred in at the beginning of Spencer's sophomore year, and suddenly getting by became a million times more complicated.
///
Jon's family was "new money," having moved from Chicago out to the west coast only in the last year; his dad was an inventor who'd made his fortune off late night infomercials. He drove a plain gray Ford Explorer to school and wore flip-flops with his uniform slacks. He had pictures of cats in his locker, along with mini posters for what had to have been local Chicago indie bands. He was so squeaky clean he fucking shined.
He'd smiled at Spencer, once.
"What?" Spencer said, frowning.
Jon shrugged. "Just...hi? Um, d'you know where the chemistry labs are?" He'd laughed sheepishly and cupped his hand around the back of his neck, like he knew instinctively how to be charming. "I'm, ah, still kind of lost around here."
There were unspoken rules about "new kids"--they had to be vetted by the Elite before it was decided whether or not speaking to them was deemed cool and appropriate. Jon had been at St. Ann's for a day and a half. Spencer knew a decision hadn't been made yet, and he wasn't about to risk his hard-earned credibility with niceties.
"Whatever, there's a directory by the main office," Spencer had replied, jerking his chin toward the other end of the hall. "Learn to use it."
Jon winced. "Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry." He still smiled weakly as he stepped away from Spencer. "It's Spencer, right? You're in my AP Comp class?"
He was, but Spencer wouldn't admit to it. He wouldn't admit to knowing the first three classes Jon had, because he wasn't supposed to know that. He also wasn't supposed to be blushing, fuck.
"Gotta go," Spencer mumbled lamely as he spotted Kathryn, a senior Elite and queen bee, eyeing Spencer across the hall with a raised eyebrow. He made sure to push past Jon without looking back, but he hated, hated that he caught a hint of cinnamon coming off Jon, and instantly thought, You smell like Starbucks.
"Getting in with the new kid, Spence?" Kathryn drawled as Spencer walked by.
Spencer ignored her and kept walking.
///
The dare happened that weekend, at a party in someone's vacation condo near the shore. Spencer had had a bit too much to drink ("It's expected, Ryan, don't look at me like that, they like me"), and suddenly the subject of Jon Walker came up.
He'd told himself that the flush in his cheeks was from the double shots of gin.
"I'm just saying, that guy? Is like straight out of a fucking Seventh Heaven episode," Kathryn's boyfriend Blaine said, sending the room into hysterics. "Like, he knocked up the minister's daughter and now he's out here to repent his heathen sins."
"You think he even looks like he's fucked a girl? He's probably hiding the purity ring."
"He probably cries when he beats off in the shower!"
"Or is so goddamn horny he can't hardly stop himself, since pussy's off limits."
The laughter grew louder, until Kathryn grinned viciously and said, "Personally? I think he's queer. Maybe famous daddy got too flustered knowing his little boy likes dick."
Everything grew quiet as Kathryn went on, climbing off Blaine's lap and pacing the floor like a panther on the prowl. "Maybe we should give little Jon a welcome gift and see just how pure he really is." Then she looked across the room and grinned straight at Spencer. "Smith caught his eye. It was rather adorable."
Everyone turned and looked straight at Spencer, who wasn't too drunk to not flush an even deeper shade of red and want to melt into the wall. There was a quiet smattering of snickers throughout the room, and Spencer's brain was a whirling of say something, say something, goddamn it.
He tipped his chin up and said in a perfectly blase' voice, "I'd get him to fuck me," and holy shit, he was so, so fucked right now. But Spencer held his own, didn't even flinch, and there was a sick pride to be had in that.
Kathryn smirked. "My, my, Spence, you've been holding out on us."
Spencer shrugged. "Had a few guys here and there. Nothing serious." Meanwhile, his heart was pounding hard enough to burst in his chest.
Blaine laughed and said, "Smith, if you fuck Walker by Christmas, I'll throw your ass one hell of a party."
The rest of room nodded in agreement, and all Spencer could think was oh god, this is real.
"Everyone in favor of nominating Jon Walker as the the new school slut?" Kathryn asked primly.
Everyone but Spencer laughed and raised their hands.
///
There were very few things Spencer fought to keep private from the Elite, but Ryan and Brendon were probably the two most important ones. The two of them had met a year ago through a mutual obsession over a vintage Gibson at a local music shop; after a few weeks of bonding over chords and Sublime songs, Ryan finally brought Brendon home and introduced him to Spencer. Sometimes Spencer wished more than anything that Brendon went to St. Ann's and not the public school several blocks away; Brendon would've been eviscerated by the Elite, but at least Spencer wouldn't have felt like he was constantly alone.
Spencer liked to fantasize about them all living in an apartment together someday and going to the same college, living off pizza and playing Rock Band until three in the morning and watching stupid action movies.
But now his life mostly consisted of ruining a guy's reputation.
"Wait, you're what?" Ryan asked.
Spencer didn't look up from Ryan's coffee table where he was typing up an essay on his laptop. "You heard me," he replied softly.
"You're seducing a guy out of spite? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"It's not like that."
Beside him on the couch, Brendon frowned. "You're getting a guy to sleep with you so you can make fun of him to the rest of the school," he said slowly. "That sounds pretty spiteful to me, Spence."
Ryan rolled his eyes. "It's those fucking 'Elite' bastards, they've brainwashed you. It's like all you ever think about anymore is being popular, like it even matters in life."
Spencer was so tired of this speech. He'd heard it a million times over the past year, and each time, Ryan failed to realize that Spencer simply wasn't like him. He didn't know how to just exist in the fucked up cosmos of the high school universe by just being himself.
"It just...sort of happened. Whatever, I'll get Walker to sleep with me, and then...whatever. Maybe he won't even care. The guy has kitten pictures in his locker, for fuck's sake."
Brendon laid his head on Spencer's shoulder. "But you're a virgin, Spence," he whispered, and yes, that's what Spencer needed to be reminded of in that exact moment. Jesus.
"I'll deal with it, Bren. Now can I please finish this essay so we can go get food? I'm starving." He typed furiously for a few minutes in complete silence, until he glanced up and saw both Ryan and Brendon watching him tentatively.
"At least let me take you to buy lube," Ryan finally said.
Spencer kind of wanted to throw up.
///
But it was actually easy, almost ridiculously so. On Monday morning, Spencer walked right up to Jon's locker and said with a perfectly casual smile, "So, I think we got off to a bad start. Sorry I was douche to you earlier."
Jon's eyes flared in happy surprise as he returned Spencer's smile. "No, hey, no worries. I'm, y'know, the fucking new guy and all." He laughed again, the same soft, self-deprecating sound. "No one likes to be new their senior year, right?"
"I'm a sophomore, so I wouldn't know, but I'll take your word for it." He nodded his head toward the door of Jon's locker. "So...you like cats?"
"Oh, um." Jon ducked his head and shoved the rest of his books in his messenger bag. "Those are my cats, actually. Clover and Dylan. I take their pictures a lot, it's fun. They're just photogenic."
Spencer raised an eyebrow. "You're a photographer?"
"Amateur, I guess. I was on yearbook staff at my old high school. I'm mostly just working on my portfolio for art school."
Perfect. "Maybe you could show me sometime?" Spencer asked, putting the right amount of hesitancy and shyness into his words. "After school?"
Jon bit his lip for a moment as he pulled his bag over his shoulder. The very edges of his cheeks went a little pink. "Okay," he replied slowly, and glanced up at Spencer through his bangs. His eyes were...very brown, and his hair looked really soft and--
"Thank you."
Spencer blinked. "For what?"
"For being nice to me," Jon said. "You're...kind of the first person to care that I exist here."
Spencer's stomach absolutely did not go a little cold. "It's not a big deal. Give me your number, I'll text you later?"
///
The thing was, for all the money the Walkers had, their house was fairly normal. It sat on the very edge of the suburbs against a large cluster of trees, giving it the allusion of being in the woods. The neighborhood was quiet and unassuming; nothing was gated, and Spencer didn't spot a single Porsche or Mercedes.
When he pulled into Jon's driveway, Jon was already outside, sitting on the front porch. He was still in his school uniform, only the cuffs of his slacks were rolled up his calves, his feet bare. His tie was gone, thrown aside with his book bag, and he was playing with a small gray and white kitten.
Spencer sat in his car for several moments. He couldn't seem to stop watching Jon turn the kitten over and over in his hands, laughing when it lunged up and butted Jon's chin.
Then he shook himself and got out, telling himself with a deep breath, It's only a bet.
Jon looked up when Spencer's car door slammed. "Hey!" He held up the kitten. "This is Clover."
Spencer had grown up with his dogs and thought cats were pretty pointless pets for the most part. But going off on the virtues of dogs versus cats wasn't going to get Spencer into Jon's pants, so he knelt down until he was eye level with the kitten and scratched behind its ear.
"Hi there," he said softly, and Clover mewed happily.
"I'd say she likes you, but Clover loves everyone," Jon replied with a smirk. "She's easy that way." He stood up a moment later, cradling Clover to his chest. "Um, come in? Sorry, I haven't had anyone over since we moved and all, I'm kinda bad at this."
"This?" Spencer asked.
Jon flailed his hand helplessly. "You know, inviting people over and stuff. I mostly figured I wouldn't have to bother with it out here."
Spencer hated the twinge of guilt in his chest. "Well, I'm here, so yeah, I'll come in." He smiled at Jon, hoping it looked encouraging, and Jon laughed sheepishly as he carried Clover inside with Spencer close behind.
///
"You play?" Spencer asked, pointing the toe of his sneaker at the guitar resting against Jon's bookcase.
Jon was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I had a band back home," he finally replied, looking back down as he laid a portfolio out on his bed. "But we mostly broke up when I moved." There was a finality in his voice, like the subject was not up for discussion.
St. Ann's didn't have any bands, not the kind that played gigs and had lead singers. Spencer remembered asking one of the Elites once if anyone had thought of forming one, and he'd been met with a bored eyeroll and a reply of, "That's so nineties, seriously." But he couldn't help thinking of Ryan's guitar in his apartment, or how Brendon was always humming something under his breath at any given moment.
Spencer didn't want to ask, but still found himself saying, "Were you guys any good?"
Jon shrugged, then opened the portfolio to a large black and white photo of two guys tuning their guitars in front of an empty auditorium. "The guy on the left is my best friend," he said. "I took this on the night of our first paying gig."
The photo was good, maybe even better than good. Spencer's hands twitched to turn the page and see more, but instead he sat back and looked around Jon's bedroom. The walls were bare, except for a cork board over Jon's desk, which was covered with various Polaroids and ticket stubs. Hanging separately on its own was a photo of Jon hugging a pretty brunette from behind.
Interesting, Spencer thought as he got up and casually walked over to the board. "This, uh, your girlfriend?" he asked.
Jon actually laughed, but he sounded affectionate when he replied, "Naw, that's Cassie. We...never really dated. Just really good friends. I wasn't, um...all that interested in having a girlfriend." He glanced up at Spencer, a slight blush across the bridge of his nose.
Oh. This was working out more perfect than Spencer imagined. But he didn't press the issue--he simply gave Jon a lopsided grin and sat back down on the end of the bed, making sure their knees touched, just barely.
"Show me more," Spencer said, nodding at the portfolio.
Jon took a deep breath and turned the page.
///
He'd meant to tell Kathryn and the others about that afternoon in Jon's room, about the not-girlfriend photo and much Jon talked about wanting to go to art school. Spencer meant to tell them all that he was almost positive that Jon at the very least had never dated anyone, and probably leaned more toward guys than girls, if the melancholy way he spoke about his (pretty damn hot) best friend was any indication.
He'd meant to relay all this, except, well, things came up.
Kathryn texted him during fourth period on Thursday to say, gotten laid yet?
Fourth period was AP Comp, which meant Jon sat two seats away from Spencer. Not that Spencer really noticed or anything, it was just that Jon tended to look over and smile at him sometimes.
working on it, he wrote back, ignoring the way his palms grew slightly damp.
Five minutes later, his phone buzzed again. Spencer huffed loudly, because eventually Kathryn was going to get his ass sent to detention. He glared at his phone as he opened the text, thinking of a really snarky reply, but suddenly noticed the text was from Jon.
sry saw u had ur phone out. want 2 get lunch w/ me?
Spencer's head snapped up. Jon appeared to be reading the assigned passage in Hamlet and taking notes, but he had the corner of his lip caught between his teeth, like he was fighting a grin. His phone was in his lap.
There was no reason for Spencer's heart to beat a little faster. He'd already known Jon was into him, and everything was going to plan. He should feel more relieved than anything.
sure ill drive
Thirty seconds later, he got a smiley face text in reply.
///
But first, here is 1000 words of a Brendon/Jon/Spencer fic that would've lead to a lot of porn at some point. *sigh*
Blindfold [WIP]
Brendon/Jon/Spencer | 1000 words
For once, Brendon was actually excited when the invitation arrived at the store.
"About time I could go," he mumbled under his breath as he read over the burgundy-colored invite printed on heavy cardstock. Gabe's annual carnival parties were legendary, and he made sure every year to invite the staff of Chromatic Music to the festivities. But for the last three years, something always came up that kept Brendon away; flu season, family emergencies, painful break-ups.
"Oh hey, Gabe's party!" Spencer announced happily, plucking the invite out of Brendon's hands. "It's a little early this year, right?"
"Naw, it's usually around Mardi Gras," Jon replied as he wandered into Brendon's office behind Spencer. The two of them stood in front of Brendon's desk and read over the details, like they hadn't gone to the damn thing every year for practically forever.
Spencer smirked and nudged Jon in the ribs with his elbow. "This why you turned down Tom's invitation to go to New Orleans?"
"Tom just wants to do arty shit and then get trashed. I can do that here." Jon nudged him back, and they laughed at each other, low and soft, their heads ducked close, like usual.
Brendon huffed and looked back down at the pile of mail on his desk. It wasn't anything he didn't see every single day at work, but as much as he loved his business partners, he was tired of the constant eyefucking. They needed to just hook up and get it over with so Brendon didn't feel like a third wheel whenever he was alone in a room with them.
It didn't have anything to do with the little tug he felt in his chest every time he caught Spencer glancing at Jon's mouth, or the way he hated Jon's infatuation with Spencer's hands. At least, that's what Brendon told himself over and over. He just missed having his two best friends being...well, platonic. Like in the old days, when the three of them were building their music publishing business from scratch out of Jon's tiny apartment.
"So, Bren, you're going, right?" Jon hopped up on the edge of the desk and swung his legs idly.
Brendon shrugged. "I haven't decided yet, to be honest. We've got that big shipment coming in from Universal, and those new piano books need to be--"
"Dude." Spencer spread his hands flat out on the desk and leaned forward, eyes suddenly seriously. His hands were broad and pale against the dark mahogany, the bones of his wrists almost elegant. Okay, so Brendon knew why Jon might be a little obsessed. "You have to go this year, you've never even been! It's not the same without you there."
Brendon rolled his eyes, but he felt his cheeks flush slightly. "Yeah, the drunken debauchery and nakedness just doesn't ring true without me," he drawled, tossing a bill at Jon. "Here, it's your turn to pay the electric."
Jon made a face, which involved a lot of nose-scrinching and lip-pouting. "I paid them last month."
"Nope, that was Spence. You know how to use Excel, Jon." Brendon tried to give him his best bitchface, but that was next to impossible with Jon's fucking wide-eyed Bambi stare.
"You're heartless and cold, B."
"And yet you still love me." Brendon pursed his lips at Jon, who promptly dropped the pouting act and laughed.
"It's true, I do." He winked at Brendon and saluted him with the electric bill. Brendon immediately stomped down the automatic flutter in his stomach. He was used to it by now. Mostly.
Spencer grabbed one of Brendon's mechanical pencils and pointed it at him. "No excuses this year, okay? You're going, I don't care if I have to drag you there myself."
"And I'll help," Jon added.
Brendon threw up his hands, laughing. "All right, Jesus! No one's dragging me anywhere, I do have a modicum of pride left."
Spencer snorted. "You wore one of your sister's old cheerleading camp t-shirts to work yesterday."
"Hey, that shirt is super comfy and I needed to do laundry, fuck off."
"I'm pretty sure I've seen you sleep in it, too."
It was the dumbest thing ever to blush over the thought of Spencer remembering what Brendon slept in, seeing as how both he and Jon stayed over at his place all the time. But that was because Brendon lived the closest to the store, which meant easy walking distance after happy hour at the bar across the street. There had been more drunken sleepovers at Brendon's apartment than he cared to count, not to mention too many mornings where Brendon walked into the living room barely awake to find Jon and Spencer curled up together on the air mattress.
"Whatever, okay, fine, I'll go! Although I seriously don't need this abuse from you two--I'm still in mourning, after all."
Jon sighed. "That was over a year ago, and you're fine. Besides, Spence and I live to torture you, didn't you know? Duh." He grinned at Brendon, giving him a thumbs up before sliding off the desk.
Spencer laughed and shook his head. "Seriously, you and Shane still go out for drinks, for fuck's sake. You're more than fine." He leaned closer and added, softly, "We want you to go, Bren. It'll be fun."
Brendon absolutely hated it when Spencer used that tone of voice on him. It was like a superpower or something, rendering Brendon powerless to stop him from doing just about anything, including melting his resolve. "All right," he replied, just as softly, and the smile Spencer gave him in return was worth it.
"Awesome," Jon said from the doorway, obviously waiting on Spencer to follow him out. "You've made my day, and I haven't even had coffee yet."
"Jesus, and you're upright?" Spencer said, smirking at Jon on his way out the door. "Fucking miracle."
"Smart ass," Jon mumbled, and playfully shoved Spencer's shoulder.
They were so wrapped up in each other that Brendon let himself take in the curve of Spencer's hips in his jeans, the sturdy slope of Jon's shoulders, the way Jon's hand seemed to fit perfectly over Spencer's bicep when he pushed him.
He blinked a few times, swallowing. They did fit perfectly together, and it wasn't their fault that it meant Brendon didn't fit anywhere at all.
Aaaaand the infamous Cruel Intentions AU...
the kind you could sing [WIP]
Jon/Spencer | 2700 words
The summer before Spencer was to start his freshman year of high school, his parents up and decided to move to the other side of the city. Which meant, among other things, that Spencer would be changing schools.
It also meant Spencer's plans of finally being back in the same school with his best friend after a year of being a part were completed and utterly shot.
"I'm only twenty minutes away?" Ryan had said as a way of comfort. But it didn't matter; Spencer was still going to be all alone in a pricey Catholic school his parents thought he deserved. Ryan could have been right across the street and it wouldn't have made a bit of difference.
He could have chosen to be the weird new kid and hoped for the best, maybe cultivated a small close-knit group of friends. But instead, he somehow drew the attention the most popular clique in school, full of filthy rich trust fund babies who partied too much and got straight A's like an afterthought. It didn't make him happy, being accepted by The Elite, but it got him through school with mild looks of contempt and envy instead of sneers and mockery. It got him by.
Then Jon Walker transferred in at the beginning of Spencer's sophomore year, and suddenly getting by became a million times more complicated.
///
Jon's family was "new money," having moved from Chicago out to the west coast only in the last year; his dad was an inventor who'd made his fortune off late night infomercials. He drove a plain gray Ford Explorer to school and wore flip-flops with his uniform slacks. He had pictures of cats in his locker, along with mini posters for what had to have been local Chicago indie bands. He was so squeaky clean he fucking shined.
He'd smiled at Spencer, once.
"What?" Spencer said, frowning.
Jon shrugged. "Just...hi? Um, d'you know where the chemistry labs are?" He'd laughed sheepishly and cupped his hand around the back of his neck, like he knew instinctively how to be charming. "I'm, ah, still kind of lost around here."
There were unspoken rules about "new kids"--they had to be vetted by the Elite before it was decided whether or not speaking to them was deemed cool and appropriate. Jon had been at St. Ann's for a day and a half. Spencer knew a decision hadn't been made yet, and he wasn't about to risk his hard-earned credibility with niceties.
"Whatever, there's a directory by the main office," Spencer had replied, jerking his chin toward the other end of the hall. "Learn to use it."
Jon winced. "Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry." He still smiled weakly as he stepped away from Spencer. "It's Spencer, right? You're in my AP Comp class?"
He was, but Spencer wouldn't admit to it. He wouldn't admit to knowing the first three classes Jon had, because he wasn't supposed to know that. He also wasn't supposed to be blushing, fuck.
"Gotta go," Spencer mumbled lamely as he spotted Kathryn, a senior Elite and queen bee, eyeing Spencer across the hall with a raised eyebrow. He made sure to push past Jon without looking back, but he hated, hated that he caught a hint of cinnamon coming off Jon, and instantly thought, You smell like Starbucks.
"Getting in with the new kid, Spence?" Kathryn drawled as Spencer walked by.
Spencer ignored her and kept walking.
///
The dare happened that weekend, at a party in someone's vacation condo near the shore. Spencer had had a bit too much to drink ("It's expected, Ryan, don't look at me like that, they like me"), and suddenly the subject of Jon Walker came up.
He'd told himself that the flush in his cheeks was from the double shots of gin.
"I'm just saying, that guy? Is like straight out of a fucking Seventh Heaven episode," Kathryn's boyfriend Blaine said, sending the room into hysterics. "Like, he knocked up the minister's daughter and now he's out here to repent his heathen sins."
"You think he even looks like he's fucked a girl? He's probably hiding the purity ring."
"He probably cries when he beats off in the shower!"
"Or is so goddamn horny he can't hardly stop himself, since pussy's off limits."
The laughter grew louder, until Kathryn grinned viciously and said, "Personally? I think he's queer. Maybe famous daddy got too flustered knowing his little boy likes dick."
Everything grew quiet as Kathryn went on, climbing off Blaine's lap and pacing the floor like a panther on the prowl. "Maybe we should give little Jon a welcome gift and see just how pure he really is." Then she looked across the room and grinned straight at Spencer. "Smith caught his eye. It was rather adorable."
Everyone turned and looked straight at Spencer, who wasn't too drunk to not flush an even deeper shade of red and want to melt into the wall. There was a quiet smattering of snickers throughout the room, and Spencer's brain was a whirling of say something, say something, goddamn it.
He tipped his chin up and said in a perfectly blase' voice, "I'd get him to fuck me," and holy shit, he was so, so fucked right now. But Spencer held his own, didn't even flinch, and there was a sick pride to be had in that.
Kathryn smirked. "My, my, Spence, you've been holding out on us."
Spencer shrugged. "Had a few guys here and there. Nothing serious." Meanwhile, his heart was pounding hard enough to burst in his chest.
Blaine laughed and said, "Smith, if you fuck Walker by Christmas, I'll throw your ass one hell of a party."
The rest of room nodded in agreement, and all Spencer could think was oh god, this is real.
"Everyone in favor of nominating Jon Walker as the the new school slut?" Kathryn asked primly.
Everyone but Spencer laughed and raised their hands.
///
There were very few things Spencer fought to keep private from the Elite, but Ryan and Brendon were probably the two most important ones. The two of them had met a year ago through a mutual obsession over a vintage Gibson at a local music shop; after a few weeks of bonding over chords and Sublime songs, Ryan finally brought Brendon home and introduced him to Spencer. Sometimes Spencer wished more than anything that Brendon went to St. Ann's and not the public school several blocks away; Brendon would've been eviscerated by the Elite, but at least Spencer wouldn't have felt like he was constantly alone.
Spencer liked to fantasize about them all living in an apartment together someday and going to the same college, living off pizza and playing Rock Band until three in the morning and watching stupid action movies.
But now his life mostly consisted of ruining a guy's reputation.
"Wait, you're what?" Ryan asked.
Spencer didn't look up from Ryan's coffee table where he was typing up an essay on his laptop. "You heard me," he replied softly.
"You're seducing a guy out of spite? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"It's not like that."
Beside him on the couch, Brendon frowned. "You're getting a guy to sleep with you so you can make fun of him to the rest of the school," he said slowly. "That sounds pretty spiteful to me, Spence."
Ryan rolled his eyes. "It's those fucking 'Elite' bastards, they've brainwashed you. It's like all you ever think about anymore is being popular, like it even matters in life."
Spencer was so tired of this speech. He'd heard it a million times over the past year, and each time, Ryan failed to realize that Spencer simply wasn't like him. He didn't know how to just exist in the fucked up cosmos of the high school universe by just being himself.
"It just...sort of happened. Whatever, I'll get Walker to sleep with me, and then...whatever. Maybe he won't even care. The guy has kitten pictures in his locker, for fuck's sake."
Brendon laid his head on Spencer's shoulder. "But you're a virgin, Spence," he whispered, and yes, that's what Spencer needed to be reminded of in that exact moment. Jesus.
"I'll deal with it, Bren. Now can I please finish this essay so we can go get food? I'm starving." He typed furiously for a few minutes in complete silence, until he glanced up and saw both Ryan and Brendon watching him tentatively.
"At least let me take you to buy lube," Ryan finally said.
Spencer kind of wanted to throw up.
///
But it was actually easy, almost ridiculously so. On Monday morning, Spencer walked right up to Jon's locker and said with a perfectly casual smile, "So, I think we got off to a bad start. Sorry I was douche to you earlier."
Jon's eyes flared in happy surprise as he returned Spencer's smile. "No, hey, no worries. I'm, y'know, the fucking new guy and all." He laughed again, the same soft, self-deprecating sound. "No one likes to be new their senior year, right?"
"I'm a sophomore, so I wouldn't know, but I'll take your word for it." He nodded his head toward the door of Jon's locker. "So...you like cats?"
"Oh, um." Jon ducked his head and shoved the rest of his books in his messenger bag. "Those are my cats, actually. Clover and Dylan. I take their pictures a lot, it's fun. They're just photogenic."
Spencer raised an eyebrow. "You're a photographer?"
"Amateur, I guess. I was on yearbook staff at my old high school. I'm mostly just working on my portfolio for art school."
Perfect. "Maybe you could show me sometime?" Spencer asked, putting the right amount of hesitancy and shyness into his words. "After school?"
Jon bit his lip for a moment as he pulled his bag over his shoulder. The very edges of his cheeks went a little pink. "Okay," he replied slowly, and glanced up at Spencer through his bangs. His eyes were...very brown, and his hair looked really soft and--
"Thank you."
Spencer blinked. "For what?"
"For being nice to me," Jon said. "You're...kind of the first person to care that I exist here."
Spencer's stomach absolutely did not go a little cold. "It's not a big deal. Give me your number, I'll text you later?"
///
The thing was, for all the money the Walkers had, their house was fairly normal. It sat on the very edge of the suburbs against a large cluster of trees, giving it the allusion of being in the woods. The neighborhood was quiet and unassuming; nothing was gated, and Spencer didn't spot a single Porsche or Mercedes.
When he pulled into Jon's driveway, Jon was already outside, sitting on the front porch. He was still in his school uniform, only the cuffs of his slacks were rolled up his calves, his feet bare. His tie was gone, thrown aside with his book bag, and he was playing with a small gray and white kitten.
Spencer sat in his car for several moments. He couldn't seem to stop watching Jon turn the kitten over and over in his hands, laughing when it lunged up and butted Jon's chin.
Then he shook himself and got out, telling himself with a deep breath, It's only a bet.
Jon looked up when Spencer's car door slammed. "Hey!" He held up the kitten. "This is Clover."
Spencer had grown up with his dogs and thought cats were pretty pointless pets for the most part. But going off on the virtues of dogs versus cats wasn't going to get Spencer into Jon's pants, so he knelt down until he was eye level with the kitten and scratched behind its ear.
"Hi there," he said softly, and Clover mewed happily.
"I'd say she likes you, but Clover loves everyone," Jon replied with a smirk. "She's easy that way." He stood up a moment later, cradling Clover to his chest. "Um, come in? Sorry, I haven't had anyone over since we moved and all, I'm kinda bad at this."
"This?" Spencer asked.
Jon flailed his hand helplessly. "You know, inviting people over and stuff. I mostly figured I wouldn't have to bother with it out here."
Spencer hated the twinge of guilt in his chest. "Well, I'm here, so yeah, I'll come in." He smiled at Jon, hoping it looked encouraging, and Jon laughed sheepishly as he carried Clover inside with Spencer close behind.
///
"You play?" Spencer asked, pointing the toe of his sneaker at the guitar resting against Jon's bookcase.
Jon was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I had a band back home," he finally replied, looking back down as he laid a portfolio out on his bed. "But we mostly broke up when I moved." There was a finality in his voice, like the subject was not up for discussion.
St. Ann's didn't have any bands, not the kind that played gigs and had lead singers. Spencer remembered asking one of the Elites once if anyone had thought of forming one, and he'd been met with a bored eyeroll and a reply of, "That's so nineties, seriously." But he couldn't help thinking of Ryan's guitar in his apartment, or how Brendon was always humming something under his breath at any given moment.
Spencer didn't want to ask, but still found himself saying, "Were you guys any good?"
Jon shrugged, then opened the portfolio to a large black and white photo of two guys tuning their guitars in front of an empty auditorium. "The guy on the left is my best friend," he said. "I took this on the night of our first paying gig."
The photo was good, maybe even better than good. Spencer's hands twitched to turn the page and see more, but instead he sat back and looked around Jon's bedroom. The walls were bare, except for a cork board over Jon's desk, which was covered with various Polaroids and ticket stubs. Hanging separately on its own was a photo of Jon hugging a pretty brunette from behind.
Interesting, Spencer thought as he got up and casually walked over to the board. "This, uh, your girlfriend?" he asked.
Jon actually laughed, but he sounded affectionate when he replied, "Naw, that's Cassie. We...never really dated. Just really good friends. I wasn't, um...all that interested in having a girlfriend." He glanced up at Spencer, a slight blush across the bridge of his nose.
Oh. This was working out more perfect than Spencer imagined. But he didn't press the issue--he simply gave Jon a lopsided grin and sat back down on the end of the bed, making sure their knees touched, just barely.
"Show me more," Spencer said, nodding at the portfolio.
Jon took a deep breath and turned the page.
///
He'd meant to tell Kathryn and the others about that afternoon in Jon's room, about the not-girlfriend photo and much Jon talked about wanting to go to art school. Spencer meant to tell them all that he was almost positive that Jon at the very least had never dated anyone, and probably leaned more toward guys than girls, if the melancholy way he spoke about his (pretty damn hot) best friend was any indication.
He'd meant to relay all this, except, well, things came up.
Kathryn texted him during fourth period on Thursday to say, gotten laid yet?
Fourth period was AP Comp, which meant Jon sat two seats away from Spencer. Not that Spencer really noticed or anything, it was just that Jon tended to look over and smile at him sometimes.
working on it, he wrote back, ignoring the way his palms grew slightly damp.
Five minutes later, his phone buzzed again. Spencer huffed loudly, because eventually Kathryn was going to get his ass sent to detention. He glared at his phone as he opened the text, thinking of a really snarky reply, but suddenly noticed the text was from Jon.
sry saw u had ur phone out. want 2 get lunch w/ me?
Spencer's head snapped up. Jon appeared to be reading the assigned passage in Hamlet and taking notes, but he had the corner of his lip caught between his teeth, like he was fighting a grin. His phone was in his lap.
There was no reason for Spencer's heart to beat a little faster. He'd already known Jon was into him, and everything was going to plan. He should feel more relieved than anything.
sure ill drive
Thirty seconds later, he got a smiley face text in reply.
///