Your Traditional Joncer Christmas Story
Title: Your Traditional Joncer Christmas Story
Author: skeletalstars
Rating: PG
Pairing: Joncer with hints of Rydon
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own these boys....if I did, they'd all be locked up in my rocket-ship in the basement....
Summary: Jon convinces Spencer and the gang to come to Chicago for Christmas
A/N: So, it's not some of my absolute best work. I feel like I rushed some of it, but hopefully, someone will like it. XD
DECEMBER 12th
Chapped lips. The painful, torn up, liquid red iron oozing annoyance, that's what Spencer hated most about Chicago. The windy city's snowy December streets just weren't the Nevada boy's scene. Every year, Jon would invite the gang east, Ryan and Brendon eager to escape the 90 degree home-town to join the Chicagoan for a truly therapeutic white Christmas, not the chalk based snow paint they'd spray on the front lawn of sand and weeds, but real snow. Usually though, it was Jon who ended up covered in the chalk based snow-paint; Spencer had always refused to travel east of his 90 degree home-town safe haven. He hated the cold.
December first to January eighth; he'd been dragged east by Brendon, literally, throwing a "terrible two's" temper-tantrum style hissy-fit the whole way over. And now, he was trapped. Mornings, morning were the worst, waking up to a pain in the mouth that he didn't deserve. Each night that he'd fallen asleep under six different five pound quilted wool blankets he'd also prayed that he'd wake up in the magical land down the rabbit hole, back home on the Vegas strip. Each night, the stars denied him his wish.
It was such a day like this in the middle of Chicago's notorious wind blown, snow-stormed over December that Spencer stood in front of Jon's bathroom mirror, examining his lips-red and blistered, near bleeding. No amount of chap-stick could fix such a biological armmageddon. He winced slightly as he gently prodded a blister on his lower lip with his index finger. Brendon's so called advice wasn't working either, he was too chicken to pop such a huge red abnormality that would surely spew pussicious goo out so close to his mouth. Just pop it, Spence. You'll get a callous and you won't get them anymore. That's what I do. The very thought made him shudder.
With a sigh he gave up - poking and prodding wouldn't do him any goo - and left the reflective glass for the humble kitchen down the hallway. Coffee would help. The Andy Williams Christmas Collection and a dancing Brendon, however, wasn't working his mood in the right direction. He wanted to forget about everything white and snowy, Christmas included
"Morning, Spencer." Brendon beamed as he stopped dancing with his hair now in his face.
"Yea, it is," Spencer slightly mumbled, both in bad mood and in the fear that if he opened his mouth too wide his lips would start bleeding.
Spencer reached into the cupboard, trying to drown out the annoying background music with his own warm thoughts about the Vegas sand. The mistletoe mug he'd blindly chosen shattered his barrier, though, filling his head once more with the snow and ice that lay just outside the door.
"What's wrong, Spencey?" Jon asked from over by the oven where he covered his right hand in a Santa Clause embellished oven-mit to bend down and pull a tray out.
Chicago. Spencer wished he could say it. Three weeks in Chicago with seven feet of snow on the ground, that's what's wrong. Instead, he was prompted by the big brown eyes looking at him to mellow his thoughts, "I'm just tired, is all. And my mouth is killing me."
"Don't be such a Ryan," Brendon mumbled, just barely out of Spencer's hearing range.
"Speaking of the Grinch, where is he?" Jon's tray was dotted with muffins, eight in all.
"Bed."
"Well, we go tree hunting today, so that boy'd better be up soon. If he misses break-fast, it's his own damn fault."
Spencer stayed out of the conversation, at least he could semi-relate to Ryan. After all, they both hated the time of the season, for different reasons maybe, but they were still vaguely united. The last thing he needed was to lose his comrade in the war against the season. Plus, the coffee was hot and distracting.
"Hey! Spencer!" Brendon's shouting broke him from his momentarily peace.
"What?" He closed his eyes.
"When are you going shopping!?" The voice was excited, Spencer could tell the Brendon's eyes were sparkling despite their muddy brown shading.
"Never, I'm not going out in that anymore than I have to."
"But you have to get presents, don't you!?"
"My presence should be present enough." Spencer opened his eyes again to see a pout merely inches from his face.
"Pwease, Spencey? Ry's no fun to go with and Jon's too busy....." Brendon knew the five year old act always got the best of Spencer's judgment.
"Hey, guys." Jon spoke from over his shoulder, mixing something in a bowl on the counter. "Whatever you do, you'd better do it tomorrow. We're going for a tree right after breakfast. And, will someone go wake Ryan up? He's gonna miss out."
"I will." Spencer said.
"Good! We'll head out tomorrow then!" Brendon used Spencer's moodiness to his advantage.
"I didn't mean you, Brend-"
"Too late, it's a date!"
With a sigh, Spencer made his way back through the hallway to find the oak door that lead to Ryan's room. He hated Chicago.
DECEMBER 13th
The tree they got from Millie's Tree Farm, Cut Your Own., was huge, an easy nine-footer, and just barely fit in the living room corner that Jon and Ryan had propped it up it. All that was left from the adventure few more blisters from the cold on Spencer's mouth and the decorations. Which, were being saved for another time coming; it was Brendon's ordeal and he had his mind set other-wise.
Shopping, Spencer had "promised", making it mandatory that A, Brendon wake him up at seven in the morning to get ready, and B, that he made sure Spencer would really go with him. Waking up the sleeping bear was the hard part. Brendon had tried everything from screaming to jumping on the bed. Not even the fog horn got Spence out of bed. It did, however, wake Ryan up...only to scream at the Brendon for doing so.
An idea hit his head after a while. Brendon had always noticed the way Spencer had looked at Jon, every once and a while anyways (when he wasn't distracted in his ADD wonderland). He noticed that, it was only after Jon offered boarding that Spencer agreed to tag along, how when Jon asked no one in particular the day before to get Ry up that Spencer went without a question or remark. What Brendon noticed was how the only person Spencer wanted to please was Jon. He noticed Spencer's weakness. And, he had decided, that, in this particular case, yes, it was indeed fair to use such a weakness against one of his best friends. After all, shopping was at steak.
Spencer had other plans though, so, when he heard a knock on his door for the hundred and tenth time all he did was sink deeper into the pocket of warmth he'd been working on all night. The creak on the door made him shove his head under the pillows. The weight on the bed made him freeze.
"Spencer?" The voice, however, made him jump up.
"Huh!?" He tried to play it off as though he'd just been scared from his slumber.
"Okay, one; your acting is horrible." Jon chuckled. "Two, you promised you'd go shopping with Brendon yesterday and you should reall-"
"I did not; he twisted my tongue to fill his head," Spencer protested, near a whine.
"Either way. Go with him. Chicago's a pretty fun place...especially with someone like him."
"Have you ever met the boy?" He wrinkled his nose.
"Look, I know you don't like Chicago...."Jon paused, trying to remember the words Brendon had asked him to use ten minutes earlier. Pouting; "...but, do it for me?"
The Grinch's heart would of grown three sizes too big if he had looked at that face that Jon was throwing at Spencer, widening the boy's own eyes and melting his own heart. Spencer couldn't say no to that; it was impossible, no one could.
"I....fine," Spencer almost whispered as he stood up from where he sat, his feet hitting the cold wooden floor.
"Thank you." Jon batted his eyes.
"Um...yeah."
----
Once, just once, Spencer wished he could get his way. The mall was crowded with people. People with boxes, bags, suitcases and hats, scarves, mittens, paired with gloves. It was just another reason Spencer hated Chicago: the crowds. Macy's was the worst, having to follow Brendon around the maze of people as he sprayed every scent of perfume and cologne in the air to "test" it. He just wanted a break from the cheer and stereotype of the season.
In JcPenny's, he almost lost Brendon, only to have him jump out from a clothes rack and tackle him with a question; Do you think Ry would like this one? Spencer grumbled, standing and and brushing himself off. Brendon knew just as well as anyone that if he got Ryan a toilet paper dispenser that Ry'd be happy. As long as it was from Brendon, he'd be happy. Brendon ended up buying a vest, female to highlight the thin boy's hips and curves, denim with a zipper and straps that tied around the neck and back. He'll love it. Spencer's thoughts rang out into the cold wind. In more ways than one.
It was a small shop outside of the mall that was the last place Spencer wanted to be seen at in fear of running into a Mr. Infamous. It was Christmas time and he always was there, red-suite and fake beard with the creepy wide smile that hinted Why yes, I am a perverted pedophile cheating on my wife with several men, why do you ask? Of course though, they were shopping in Chicago, Brendon just couldn't pass up the chance to get some "In-Store" merch. The only thing, Spencer knew, that he would get, was Humiliated. The pervert liked him best, young and innocent.
The bell rang as they entered, no one was ready to pounce on him...yet. Just some girls looking at hoodies. Spencer's hair was on end, he just wanted to get it over with by now. Brendon sought out the Pervert that Spencer was so afraid of. He knew he'd eventually be cornered in a dressing room at some-point in their stay.
"Come on, let's check the back room." Brendon whispered, making sure the girls didn't over hear him. Fan-slash was the last thing any of them needed around the holidays.
"But...."Spencer tried to whine out an excuse. "...I don't want to?"
"You never want to do anything but Jon." Brendon mumbled as he opened the door that clearly stated "Authorized Personal ONLY."
"That's not true! You sick pervert!" Spencer slapped the back of the brown-haired boy's head.
"Hey what di-"
"Did someone call my name?" A voice whispered back from behind.
Spencer jumped ten feet in the air, stumbling over Brendon on his re-entry from the ceiling's atmosphere. Both of them turned around, Brendon in good spirit, Spencer in a slight fear. He hated the man he had to confront.
"Pete!" Brendon tackled his elder to the ground, pinning him by his wrists.
"Whoa, someone's a little too eager. You miss your Uncle Petey?" Pete chuckled with his usual fox smile gracing his mouth.
"Not really," Spencer mumbled under his breath as the boys started a conversation, one on top of the other.
Maybe I could just escape now.... Spence figured as he reached for the door knob and slipped out, seemingly unnoticed. The only problem was the fact that he didn't know his way around the city, or back to Jon's apartment. Hiding in clothes racks was his other option of the moment, but he decided against it. It was too risky; he could be raped there. Just gotta be calm and nonchalant about this. He tried to pep-talk himself as he went across the store, no one seemed to notice him-who he was. The push door was within his reach when a hand grabbed his wrist. It was over now.
"Come on Spencey-poo's." Pete turned the boy around. "You know I've always liked you the best."
"Get off of me, Pete. I'll scream rape," Spencer threatened.
"Oh, really now?"
"Yes."
"You know, Brendon's told me about your little secret. You scream rape and I'll spill," Pete decided to counter, his mind playing the usual physiological games it did.
"Which would be...?" Spencer was confused.
"You know, Spin, you have to claim what's yours before someone else does. And, it's not like you could make it any less obvious." Pete let him go.
"What?" He made a face, contemplating whether or not to kick Pete's little friend down below.
"You know what I mean. Take him, or someone else just might snatch him up instead. This is December, the season of violent shopping."
DECEMBER 16th
Spencer couldn't get Pete's words out of his head three days later as the group finally decided to decorate the apartment they were sharing. Brendon put on the music, Jon and Ryan brought down the decorations from the small storage space, and Spencer made the drinks; hot chocolate spiked with Bailey's Irish Cream, the perfect December pick-me-up. Especially when messing around with hooks and needles used for the tree and other various hanging decorations.
Three were three boxes in all, two for the tree and one for everything else. Holly and pine, fake snow, and even place-mats all came out one by one to find their home in the apartment to start life with the boys. There was one thing though, it's almost always just one, that Spencer wished didn't move in with them. It was a small bundle, wrapped up in a paper-towel that was tied shut by a small strand of old limp string. It was a family heir-loom, a tradition, Jon had said. It had been passed down for three generations to the first child who moved out and away from their parent's nest.
It was a small bough of mistle-toe, now hung over the door way from the kitchen to the living room.
DECEMBER 17th
"Alright guys, we're leaving now!" Brendon shouted over his shoulder as he drug Ryan out the front door.
It was finally a day Spencer could enjoy; no Brendon, no Grinch―as much as he hated calling Ryan that, it was true, and absolutely no going outside into the frozen white revolving world. All it was, was him and Jon, on a couch, relaxing for once with A Christmas Story playing on TBS (very funny...) for the millionth and tenth time. It was all he'd wanted for Christmas.
They shared a blanket, fairly spread apart on the couch between them, wool and down to keep them warm. Subconsciously, though, Spencer must have decided that the blanket just wasn't doing the job right, moving closer to Jon every ten minutes or so, just mere centimeters. It all ended up the same though; his head on Jon's shoulder and their legs pressed together in a near water-tight seal.
Neither of the two seemed to notice, too wrapped up in their own thoughts to realize the outside world around them. It wasn't a matter of importance, it was a state of mind; each subconscious being becoming entangled within the other, protecting and loving in the ways of the invisible. The chemical reactions taking place in their brains and flowing through their blood streams were unable to be seen by the naked eye, the bonding however, was plain as the snow and ice on the roof top. Mind games, each of them placing their own game onto the other.
It was the fifth commercial break in an hour and a half, that they both had realized it. It's just because I'm cold. Spencer told himself. Male penguins do it all the time....I'm no different.
Look at him. Jon's own thoughts chuckled silently. All warm and cozy there, red little nose and ruined lips. Is that my fault?
Just because my head's on his shoulder doesn't mean anything. Spencer shifted his weight slightly towards Jon.
Jon held himself back from leaning over to look at the boy's mouth; it'd seem suspicious. Yeah, it probably is my fault. And, even if it's not, I'll hear about it soon enough.
Okay...maybe...maybe...I'm not seeing this right... Spencer nuzzled his head into Jon's shoulder. Is he trying to look at my mouth?
Whoa. What's that mean? He's not hitting on me...is he? Jon's thoughts responded to the nuzzle.
I hope he isn't too uncomfortable...maybe I'm coming on too strong. Wait. Did I just think that? Spencer's own words were confusing him.
Maybe he is...do I respond? Jon had no clue what to do in such a situation.
Yeah, I had to of thought that, how couldn't I? I mean, everything about that man is... desirable. Admitting he had a problem was Spencer's first step in solving such a problem.
Okay, so...I'll try this... Jon laid his arm around the younger's shoulders.
That's not anything new...is it? Yeah...maybe... Spencer eased into the part-way embrace.
The pair stayed like that for a while, each too immersed in their own thoughts to notice what was really going on. They got no further than that, too afraid to go on any more. It was all too obvious then, in front of their eyes, they each had a problem.
Falling asleep in a warm embrace though, was just a bleak plus side of it.
DECEMBER 20th
"Yes, mom, I'll call you." Spencer sighed into the receiver of his cell-phone. "Yes, mom, I promise. Tell the girls I said 'Merry Christmas; they'll get their gifts when I get back.' No, I won't be home for New Year's. I told you! I....look mom, do we have to fight? I know, I know, you miss me. Yes, I understand. Mmm-hmm, I love you too, mom. Alright. Good-bye."
Spencer set his Side-Kick down on the kitchen table and sighed again. Every year, it was the same thing, even if he was in town. "How are you? When are you coming over? Do you want me to save the leftovers? I love you..." It was just another annoying seasonal cycle.
But, this year, it was actually starting to get to him. Yes, snow was a pretty nice Christmas novelty, he considered, but the cold stinging wind and horribly chapped lips were a huge downside. His family wasn't near either. So what if his mother was an annoying nag? And his sisters only bugged him for presents? It was still a part of his traditions. It was a hole in his hear the was almost yearning for. A desire to hop on the next plane out an go home. He still had time. But, at the same time, there was no way that he could abandon his friends and what he thought to be a heart-throb for 90 degree weather. The air-ports would be jammed up anyways. He had decided in that minute, that, yes, he would stay.
"You okay?" Jon asked as he walked in from the living area.
"Yeah... just a little homesick, I guess..." Spencer tried to sound like it wasn't bugging him as much as it was.
"Haven't you been homesick the whole time you've been here? All you've done is complained." Jon laughed, copping a seat next to Spencer. "Hey, I know what'd cheer you up."
"What?" If Jon suggested it, he'd be game.
"Ice-skating."
----
The wind wasn't too bad; it was the sun that was the problem. Every time Spencer tried to look anywhere but straight ahead at the gray steel and concrete buildings around him, he'd be snow-blinded by the deadly reflection of the light.
Brendon and Ryan had come along too, bored out of their minds with no more shopping to do. In fact, Ryan actually liked the idea of ice-skating, he'd done it once when he was a boy at an indoor rink, he wanted to relive that memory of his father. Though, with all the bickering he'd been doing with Brendon, including the small snow-ball fight, Spencer wondered just how Ryan could concentrate on a childhood memory without somehow including Brendon in it.
The rink wasn't exactly packed, but there was a good deal of people there. Couples and children raced around, trying to beat the others, taking down unexpected by-standers.
Spencer was unsure of the gleaming white surface, ice-skating wasn't exactly his thing and he could say he'd honestly ever been skating like this before. With a shaky start, he wobbled out on the oval, Jon's hand in his. It was for reassurance purposes, he'd told himself when he'd instinctively grabbed the experienced elder's palm, and that was final.
The first time around was weak-kneed, but the second time was better, and on the third time around, Jon let his hand go and jumped ahead of him, skating backwards and encouraging him. Showing off was more fitting discription for the situation.
"You can do it, Spence. I know you can." Jon beamed as he dodged a small child.
"Yeah, yeah. I hope so." Spencer's feet still weren't cooperating as he wished they would.
A race blew past the two, throwing their wind at them and knocking Spencer forwards. He threw out his hands and closed his eyes, expecting to land on the cold hard ice below, but was surprised when it wasn't a cold hard sensation in his chest, in it's place was a warm fleshy one. He opened his eyes only to look into Jon's honey-brown eyes.
"Gotcha." Jon smiled for the millionth time.
"Um...thanks." Spencer's position was awkward.
"I'll never let you down, okay?" The reassurance in his voice was real.
"Mmm-hmm," Spencer mumbled, blushing.
"Now, let's have some fun with this."
DECEMBER 23rd
Cookies. Brendon had insisted, cookies. They just had to bake cookies. They had all the ingredients, flour, vanilla, chocolate, frosting, eggs, and the oil and water. All that was left was to bake them, and with the ingredients on hand, Brendon saw no reason for the task to go undone.
They all knew; it could only end in disaster.
The dough fight started after the third batch was put in the oven to bake, Brendon had "accidentally" flung a wad of it at Ryan, the sticky substance landing in his hair, who threw an egg in reply. Jon and Spencer tried to stay out of it for as long as they could, but it looked too fun to resist.
Spencer was the first to jump in, tossing the vanilla vile at Brendon's chest. It hit him, spewing out the extract onto his shirt. Spencer got a head full of flour from Ryan in return. Jon joined in, giving Ryan a taste of his own medicine as he egged the frail boy. The teams had been deciphered, Jon and Spencer vs. Ryan and Brendon.
The fight went on for a while, each trying out new items, whip cream and melted chocolate. Eventually though, their supplies were starting to dwindle. Icing was used in place of dough and whip-cream, milk in place of eggs. In the end, the kitchen was a mess― a blender that had been turned on uncapped. The boys sat on the flour and other ingredients covered floor. Their own clothes were ruined; it'd be a race to the shower's too.
Spencer had to admit, though, he hadn't had so much fun since they'd played hide and seek in New York City a year back. He was out of breath and covered in goo, but it didn't matter. Jon's hand hit his knee and a smile was given to him.
"We didn't exactly win, but, in Pete's word's, we went down swinging, babe." Jon threw his head back to hit the counter's bottom cupboard door.
Spencer just laughed, what else could he do? "That was better than I thought it would end up."
"Hold still." Jon studied Spencer's face, covered with flour and icing, a dab of whip-cream or two. "You got some on your nose."
Jon wiped the white sugary matter off of Spencer's nose before offering it up for consumption, it was just icing and flour. Spencer's tongue touched Jon's finger to snag the goo off of its tip and returned to his mouth; vanilla was the best. He was glad for the flour covering, if it wasn't for it, he was sure he'd of been blushing when a nose was nuzzled to his neck and a tongue licked off more of the sugary goo.
DECEMBER 25th
Christmas morning came and went. The exchanging of gifts was fun yet brief. Phone calls were made to erasure worried relatives, Brendon's mother especially. Breakfast had been warm, and lunch skipped in anticipation of dinner; ham, potatoes, pies, and some form of odd casserole that made Spencer's head throb with its smell. Oddly enough, the day was going perfectly, better than the past Christmases in Vegas with a hyper Brendon and several family members calling, dropping by, and texting.
After dinner, Spencer had offered to help Jon with the dishes, collecting the china, crystal, and silver (all of them various family heir looms in one form or another) from the other's spots on the table.
On their way into the kitchen, just under the arch-way, Spencer had dropped the forks he had collected onto the aged oak flooring. They splattered everywhere and when he stood up, he stopped at the sound of the voice behind him.
"Look up, boys." Brendon giggled from behind the pair.
Slowly, Spencer turned his head to look up at the roof of the arch-way. It took a split second for his heart rate to skip into over drive. Butterflies formed in his stomach.
"Oh, God. Please don't," Ryan spoke once he took notice to the situation.
Jon chuckled and looked down at the blushing younger. Spencer officially hated plants. Plants and Christmas decorations. At the top of the arch-way, Spencer cursed his luck silently, hung the family heir-loom of three years. What had to be the world's oldest piece of mistletoe, daunting him with its worldly traditions.
"Come on, Spencey! Kiss him!" Brendon's peppy cheer-leader style wasn't helping any.
Spencer had never been good at admitting his problems to others. He was too stubborn to show any weakness. In this case, it was love. Instead, his being spewed embarrassment, which, wasn't all a front. Confusion, however, would of been a better assessment of the situation. His thoughts were tripping over each other; should he kiss him or chicken out? Either way, the potential result was not a good one in his eyes. He had to choose, though, and his heart was taking over his mind.
On a whim, he stood up on his tip-toes and put his mouth to Jon's in a flash before pulling back down away and diverting his gaze to the floor, all in one swift move. Spencer bit his lip, waiting for the inevitable answer that Jon was forming on his tongue.
A smile replaced the puzzled look on Jon's face; "What took you so long?"
"Wait, what?" Spencer looked up at the warm smile, confused.
"Oh, come on, Spence, we all knew you wanted to," Ryan retorted before Jon could speak.
"But I thought that-"
"That I'd be creeped out?" Jon's smile grew wider.
"Yeah, that." Spencer gave his eyes to the floor again.
"Why would I be?"
"Because you don't go...that...way?"
"No, Spencer, you really couldn't tell? Not after all of that?" Jon chuckled.
"Look....I..." Spencer sighed. "Just forget it."
Jon chuckled again, taking Spencer's chin in his hands so they boy would look him in the eyes. "Let's try this again."
Gently, Jon pulled them closer and closer together, closing the gap between their mouths. Jon licked Spencer's lower lip and took advantage of the inexperienced boy when he gasped, inviting himself in. He was slow, careful, he didn't want to scare the timid adolescent. Spencer responded, doing what he could in the awkward new position.
"Oh, get a room!" Ryan snapped. "We don't want to see that."
His words were followed by an ear-splitting "OW!" as a result of Brendon slapping him upside his head.
Jon and Spencer hardly acknowledged the new bicker between the two; they were too wrapped up in their moment. Not even Dove Chocolate could beat the feeling, and for Jon, that was saying something.
The world had been lifted off of Spencer's shoulders, he no longer had to hide his dark secret, the world officially knew about it. And what's more, he was proud of it. Proud to have given in and shown his weakness. He made a silent vow, though, to control his situations and step up to the plate; there was no longer a need to be shy and timid. It was to perfect to not own, he wanted it.
It was such a night like this in the middle of Chicago's notorious wind-blown, snow-stormed over December that Spencer stood in the arch-way, Jon's mouth on his. That his lips-red and blistered, near bleeding, no longer felt the pain of the seven feet of snow and wind blown conditions of Chicago. No amount of chap-stick was able to fix the biological armmageddon, only a loving touch could. He winced slightly as Jon's tongue gently prodded a blister on his lower lip before pulling away. Perhaps, Pete's advice worked, he was able to stand up to his fears of what society would think of him, he was able to live the moment like he was dying. Take him, or someone else just might snatch him up instead. The very thought made him shudder; Jon was his now.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered after a second of leaning on Jon's chest.
"Merry Christmas, baby."
*
Author: skeletalstars
Rating: PG
Pairing: Joncer with hints of Rydon
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own these boys....if I did, they'd all be locked up in my rocket-ship in the basement....
Summary: Jon convinces Spencer and the gang to come to Chicago for Christmas
A/N: So, it's not some of my absolute best work. I feel like I rushed some of it, but hopefully, someone will like it. XD
DECEMBER 12th
Chapped lips. The painful, torn up, liquid red iron oozing annoyance, that's what Spencer hated most about Chicago. The windy city's snowy December streets just weren't the Nevada boy's scene. Every year, Jon would invite the gang east, Ryan and Brendon eager to escape the 90 degree home-town to join the Chicagoan for a truly therapeutic white Christmas, not the chalk based snow paint they'd spray on the front lawn of sand and weeds, but real snow. Usually though, it was Jon who ended up covered in the chalk based snow-paint; Spencer had always refused to travel east of his 90 degree home-town safe haven. He hated the cold.
December first to January eighth; he'd been dragged east by Brendon, literally, throwing a "terrible two's" temper-tantrum style hissy-fit the whole way over. And now, he was trapped. Mornings, morning were the worst, waking up to a pain in the mouth that he didn't deserve. Each night that he'd fallen asleep under six different five pound quilted wool blankets he'd also prayed that he'd wake up in the magical land down the rabbit hole, back home on the Vegas strip. Each night, the stars denied him his wish.
It was such a day like this in the middle of Chicago's notorious wind blown, snow-stormed over December that Spencer stood in front of Jon's bathroom mirror, examining his lips-red and blistered, near bleeding. No amount of chap-stick could fix such a biological armmageddon. He winced slightly as he gently prodded a blister on his lower lip with his index finger. Brendon's so called advice wasn't working either, he was too chicken to pop such a huge red abnormality that would surely spew pussicious goo out so close to his mouth. Just pop it, Spence. You'll get a callous and you won't get them anymore. That's what I do. The very thought made him shudder.
With a sigh he gave up - poking and prodding wouldn't do him any goo - and left the reflective glass for the humble kitchen down the hallway. Coffee would help. The Andy Williams Christmas Collection and a dancing Brendon, however, wasn't working his mood in the right direction. He wanted to forget about everything white and snowy, Christmas included
"Morning, Spencer." Brendon beamed as he stopped dancing with his hair now in his face.
"Yea, it is," Spencer slightly mumbled, both in bad mood and in the fear that if he opened his mouth too wide his lips would start bleeding.
Spencer reached into the cupboard, trying to drown out the annoying background music with his own warm thoughts about the Vegas sand. The mistletoe mug he'd blindly chosen shattered his barrier, though, filling his head once more with the snow and ice that lay just outside the door.
"What's wrong, Spencey?" Jon asked from over by the oven where he covered his right hand in a Santa Clause embellished oven-mit to bend down and pull a tray out.
Chicago. Spencer wished he could say it. Three weeks in Chicago with seven feet of snow on the ground, that's what's wrong. Instead, he was prompted by the big brown eyes looking at him to mellow his thoughts, "I'm just tired, is all. And my mouth is killing me."
"Don't be such a Ryan," Brendon mumbled, just barely out of Spencer's hearing range.
"Speaking of the Grinch, where is he?" Jon's tray was dotted with muffins, eight in all.
"Bed."
"Well, we go tree hunting today, so that boy'd better be up soon. If he misses break-fast, it's his own damn fault."
Spencer stayed out of the conversation, at least he could semi-relate to Ryan. After all, they both hated the time of the season, for different reasons maybe, but they were still vaguely united. The last thing he needed was to lose his comrade in the war against the season. Plus, the coffee was hot and distracting.
"Hey! Spencer!" Brendon's shouting broke him from his momentarily peace.
"What?" He closed his eyes.
"When are you going shopping!?" The voice was excited, Spencer could tell the Brendon's eyes were sparkling despite their muddy brown shading.
"Never, I'm not going out in that anymore than I have to."
"But you have to get presents, don't you!?"
"My presence should be present enough." Spencer opened his eyes again to see a pout merely inches from his face.
"Pwease, Spencey? Ry's no fun to go with and Jon's too busy....." Brendon knew the five year old act always got the best of Spencer's judgment.
"Hey, guys." Jon spoke from over his shoulder, mixing something in a bowl on the counter. "Whatever you do, you'd better do it tomorrow. We're going for a tree right after breakfast. And, will someone go wake Ryan up? He's gonna miss out."
"I will." Spencer said.
"Good! We'll head out tomorrow then!" Brendon used Spencer's moodiness to his advantage.
"I didn't mean you, Brend-"
"Too late, it's a date!"
With a sigh, Spencer made his way back through the hallway to find the oak door that lead to Ryan's room. He hated Chicago.
DECEMBER 13th
The tree they got from Millie's Tree Farm, Cut Your Own., was huge, an easy nine-footer, and just barely fit in the living room corner that Jon and Ryan had propped it up it. All that was left from the adventure few more blisters from the cold on Spencer's mouth and the decorations. Which, were being saved for another time coming; it was Brendon's ordeal and he had his mind set other-wise.
Shopping, Spencer had "promised", making it mandatory that A, Brendon wake him up at seven in the morning to get ready, and B, that he made sure Spencer would really go with him. Waking up the sleeping bear was the hard part. Brendon had tried everything from screaming to jumping on the bed. Not even the fog horn got Spence out of bed. It did, however, wake Ryan up...only to scream at the Brendon for doing so.
An idea hit his head after a while. Brendon had always noticed the way Spencer had looked at Jon, every once and a while anyways (when he wasn't distracted in his ADD wonderland). He noticed that, it was only after Jon offered boarding that Spencer agreed to tag along, how when Jon asked no one in particular the day before to get Ry up that Spencer went without a question or remark. What Brendon noticed was how the only person Spencer wanted to please was Jon. He noticed Spencer's weakness. And, he had decided, that, in this particular case, yes, it was indeed fair to use such a weakness against one of his best friends. After all, shopping was at steak.
Spencer had other plans though, so, when he heard a knock on his door for the hundred and tenth time all he did was sink deeper into the pocket of warmth he'd been working on all night. The creak on the door made him shove his head under the pillows. The weight on the bed made him freeze.
"Spencer?" The voice, however, made him jump up.
"Huh!?" He tried to play it off as though he'd just been scared from his slumber.
"Okay, one; your acting is horrible." Jon chuckled. "Two, you promised you'd go shopping with Brendon yesterday and you should reall-"
"I did not; he twisted my tongue to fill his head," Spencer protested, near a whine.
"Either way. Go with him. Chicago's a pretty fun place...especially with someone like him."
"Have you ever met the boy?" He wrinkled his nose.
"Look, I know you don't like Chicago...."Jon paused, trying to remember the words Brendon had asked him to use ten minutes earlier. Pouting; "...but, do it for me?"
The Grinch's heart would of grown three sizes too big if he had looked at that face that Jon was throwing at Spencer, widening the boy's own eyes and melting his own heart. Spencer couldn't say no to that; it was impossible, no one could.
"I....fine," Spencer almost whispered as he stood up from where he sat, his feet hitting the cold wooden floor.
"Thank you." Jon batted his eyes.
"Um...yeah."
----
Once, just once, Spencer wished he could get his way. The mall was crowded with people. People with boxes, bags, suitcases and hats, scarves, mittens, paired with gloves. It was just another reason Spencer hated Chicago: the crowds. Macy's was the worst, having to follow Brendon around the maze of people as he sprayed every scent of perfume and cologne in the air to "test" it. He just wanted a break from the cheer and stereotype of the season.
In JcPenny's, he almost lost Brendon, only to have him jump out from a clothes rack and tackle him with a question; Do you think Ry would like this one? Spencer grumbled, standing and and brushing himself off. Brendon knew just as well as anyone that if he got Ryan a toilet paper dispenser that Ry'd be happy. As long as it was from Brendon, he'd be happy. Brendon ended up buying a vest, female to highlight the thin boy's hips and curves, denim with a zipper and straps that tied around the neck and back. He'll love it. Spencer's thoughts rang out into the cold wind. In more ways than one.
It was a small shop outside of the mall that was the last place Spencer wanted to be seen at in fear of running into a Mr. Infamous. It was Christmas time and he always was there, red-suite and fake beard with the creepy wide smile that hinted Why yes, I am a perverted pedophile cheating on my wife with several men, why do you ask? Of course though, they were shopping in Chicago, Brendon just couldn't pass up the chance to get some "In-Store" merch. The only thing, Spencer knew, that he would get, was Humiliated. The pervert liked him best, young and innocent.
The bell rang as they entered, no one was ready to pounce on him...yet. Just some girls looking at hoodies. Spencer's hair was on end, he just wanted to get it over with by now. Brendon sought out the Pervert that Spencer was so afraid of. He knew he'd eventually be cornered in a dressing room at some-point in their stay.
"Come on, let's check the back room." Brendon whispered, making sure the girls didn't over hear him. Fan-slash was the last thing any of them needed around the holidays.
"But...."Spencer tried to whine out an excuse. "...I don't want to?"
"You never want to do anything but Jon." Brendon mumbled as he opened the door that clearly stated "Authorized Personal ONLY."
"That's not true! You sick pervert!" Spencer slapped the back of the brown-haired boy's head.
"Hey what di-"
"Did someone call my name?" A voice whispered back from behind.
Spencer jumped ten feet in the air, stumbling over Brendon on his re-entry from the ceiling's atmosphere. Both of them turned around, Brendon in good spirit, Spencer in a slight fear. He hated the man he had to confront.
"Pete!" Brendon tackled his elder to the ground, pinning him by his wrists.
"Whoa, someone's a little too eager. You miss your Uncle Petey?" Pete chuckled with his usual fox smile gracing his mouth.
"Not really," Spencer mumbled under his breath as the boys started a conversation, one on top of the other.
Maybe I could just escape now.... Spence figured as he reached for the door knob and slipped out, seemingly unnoticed. The only problem was the fact that he didn't know his way around the city, or back to Jon's apartment. Hiding in clothes racks was his other option of the moment, but he decided against it. It was too risky; he could be raped there. Just gotta be calm and nonchalant about this. He tried to pep-talk himself as he went across the store, no one seemed to notice him-who he was. The push door was within his reach when a hand grabbed his wrist. It was over now.
"Come on Spencey-poo's." Pete turned the boy around. "You know I've always liked you the best."
"Get off of me, Pete. I'll scream rape," Spencer threatened.
"Oh, really now?"
"Yes."
"You know, Brendon's told me about your little secret. You scream rape and I'll spill," Pete decided to counter, his mind playing the usual physiological games it did.
"Which would be...?" Spencer was confused.
"You know, Spin, you have to claim what's yours before someone else does. And, it's not like you could make it any less obvious." Pete let him go.
"What?" He made a face, contemplating whether or not to kick Pete's little friend down below.
"You know what I mean. Take him, or someone else just might snatch him up instead. This is December, the season of violent shopping."
DECEMBER 16th
Spencer couldn't get Pete's words out of his head three days later as the group finally decided to decorate the apartment they were sharing. Brendon put on the music, Jon and Ryan brought down the decorations from the small storage space, and Spencer made the drinks; hot chocolate spiked with Bailey's Irish Cream, the perfect December pick-me-up. Especially when messing around with hooks and needles used for the tree and other various hanging decorations.
Three were three boxes in all, two for the tree and one for everything else. Holly and pine, fake snow, and even place-mats all came out one by one to find their home in the apartment to start life with the boys. There was one thing though, it's almost always just one, that Spencer wished didn't move in with them. It was a small bundle, wrapped up in a paper-towel that was tied shut by a small strand of old limp string. It was a family heir-loom, a tradition, Jon had said. It had been passed down for three generations to the first child who moved out and away from their parent's nest.
It was a small bough of mistle-toe, now hung over the door way from the kitchen to the living room.
DECEMBER 17th
"Alright guys, we're leaving now!" Brendon shouted over his shoulder as he drug Ryan out the front door.
It was finally a day Spencer could enjoy; no Brendon, no Grinch―as much as he hated calling Ryan that, it was true, and absolutely no going outside into the frozen white revolving world. All it was, was him and Jon, on a couch, relaxing for once with A Christmas Story playing on TBS (very funny...) for the millionth and tenth time. It was all he'd wanted for Christmas.
They shared a blanket, fairly spread apart on the couch between them, wool and down to keep them warm. Subconsciously, though, Spencer must have decided that the blanket just wasn't doing the job right, moving closer to Jon every ten minutes or so, just mere centimeters. It all ended up the same though; his head on Jon's shoulder and their legs pressed together in a near water-tight seal.
Neither of the two seemed to notice, too wrapped up in their own thoughts to realize the outside world around them. It wasn't a matter of importance, it was a state of mind; each subconscious being becoming entangled within the other, protecting and loving in the ways of the invisible. The chemical reactions taking place in their brains and flowing through their blood streams were unable to be seen by the naked eye, the bonding however, was plain as the snow and ice on the roof top. Mind games, each of them placing their own game onto the other.
It was the fifth commercial break in an hour and a half, that they both had realized it. It's just because I'm cold. Spencer told himself. Male penguins do it all the time....I'm no different.
Look at him. Jon's own thoughts chuckled silently. All warm and cozy there, red little nose and ruined lips. Is that my fault?
Just because my head's on his shoulder doesn't mean anything. Spencer shifted his weight slightly towards Jon.
Jon held himself back from leaning over to look at the boy's mouth; it'd seem suspicious. Yeah, it probably is my fault. And, even if it's not, I'll hear about it soon enough.
Okay...maybe...maybe...I'm not seeing this right... Spencer nuzzled his head into Jon's shoulder. Is he trying to look at my mouth?
Whoa. What's that mean? He's not hitting on me...is he? Jon's thoughts responded to the nuzzle.
I hope he isn't too uncomfortable...maybe I'm coming on too strong. Wait. Did I just think that? Spencer's own words were confusing him.
Maybe he is...do I respond? Jon had no clue what to do in such a situation.
Yeah, I had to of thought that, how couldn't I? I mean, everything about that man is... desirable. Admitting he had a problem was Spencer's first step in solving such a problem.
Okay, so...I'll try this... Jon laid his arm around the younger's shoulders.
That's not anything new...is it? Yeah...maybe... Spencer eased into the part-way embrace.
The pair stayed like that for a while, each too immersed in their own thoughts to notice what was really going on. They got no further than that, too afraid to go on any more. It was all too obvious then, in front of their eyes, they each had a problem.
Falling asleep in a warm embrace though, was just a bleak plus side of it.
DECEMBER 20th
"Yes, mom, I'll call you." Spencer sighed into the receiver of his cell-phone. "Yes, mom, I promise. Tell the girls I said 'Merry Christmas; they'll get their gifts when I get back.' No, I won't be home for New Year's. I told you! I....look mom, do we have to fight? I know, I know, you miss me. Yes, I understand. Mmm-hmm, I love you too, mom. Alright. Good-bye."
Spencer set his Side-Kick down on the kitchen table and sighed again. Every year, it was the same thing, even if he was in town. "How are you? When are you coming over? Do you want me to save the leftovers? I love you..." It was just another annoying seasonal cycle.
But, this year, it was actually starting to get to him. Yes, snow was a pretty nice Christmas novelty, he considered, but the cold stinging wind and horribly chapped lips were a huge downside. His family wasn't near either. So what if his mother was an annoying nag? And his sisters only bugged him for presents? It was still a part of his traditions. It was a hole in his hear the was almost yearning for. A desire to hop on the next plane out an go home. He still had time. But, at the same time, there was no way that he could abandon his friends and what he thought to be a heart-throb for 90 degree weather. The air-ports would be jammed up anyways. He had decided in that minute, that, yes, he would stay.
"You okay?" Jon asked as he walked in from the living area.
"Yeah... just a little homesick, I guess..." Spencer tried to sound like it wasn't bugging him as much as it was.
"Haven't you been homesick the whole time you've been here? All you've done is complained." Jon laughed, copping a seat next to Spencer. "Hey, I know what'd cheer you up."
"What?" If Jon suggested it, he'd be game.
"Ice-skating."
----
The wind wasn't too bad; it was the sun that was the problem. Every time Spencer tried to look anywhere but straight ahead at the gray steel and concrete buildings around him, he'd be snow-blinded by the deadly reflection of the light.
Brendon and Ryan had come along too, bored out of their minds with no more shopping to do. In fact, Ryan actually liked the idea of ice-skating, he'd done it once when he was a boy at an indoor rink, he wanted to relive that memory of his father. Though, with all the bickering he'd been doing with Brendon, including the small snow-ball fight, Spencer wondered just how Ryan could concentrate on a childhood memory without somehow including Brendon in it.
The rink wasn't exactly packed, but there was a good deal of people there. Couples and children raced around, trying to beat the others, taking down unexpected by-standers.
Spencer was unsure of the gleaming white surface, ice-skating wasn't exactly his thing and he could say he'd honestly ever been skating like this before. With a shaky start, he wobbled out on the oval, Jon's hand in his. It was for reassurance purposes, he'd told himself when he'd instinctively grabbed the experienced elder's palm, and that was final.
The first time around was weak-kneed, but the second time was better, and on the third time around, Jon let his hand go and jumped ahead of him, skating backwards and encouraging him. Showing off was more fitting discription for the situation.
"You can do it, Spence. I know you can." Jon beamed as he dodged a small child.
"Yeah, yeah. I hope so." Spencer's feet still weren't cooperating as he wished they would.
A race blew past the two, throwing their wind at them and knocking Spencer forwards. He threw out his hands and closed his eyes, expecting to land on the cold hard ice below, but was surprised when it wasn't a cold hard sensation in his chest, in it's place was a warm fleshy one. He opened his eyes only to look into Jon's honey-brown eyes.
"Gotcha." Jon smiled for the millionth time.
"Um...thanks." Spencer's position was awkward.
"I'll never let you down, okay?" The reassurance in his voice was real.
"Mmm-hmm," Spencer mumbled, blushing.
"Now, let's have some fun with this."
DECEMBER 23rd
Cookies. Brendon had insisted, cookies. They just had to bake cookies. They had all the ingredients, flour, vanilla, chocolate, frosting, eggs, and the oil and water. All that was left was to bake them, and with the ingredients on hand, Brendon saw no reason for the task to go undone.
They all knew; it could only end in disaster.
The dough fight started after the third batch was put in the oven to bake, Brendon had "accidentally" flung a wad of it at Ryan, the sticky substance landing in his hair, who threw an egg in reply. Jon and Spencer tried to stay out of it for as long as they could, but it looked too fun to resist.
Spencer was the first to jump in, tossing the vanilla vile at Brendon's chest. It hit him, spewing out the extract onto his shirt. Spencer got a head full of flour from Ryan in return. Jon joined in, giving Ryan a taste of his own medicine as he egged the frail boy. The teams had been deciphered, Jon and Spencer vs. Ryan and Brendon.
The fight went on for a while, each trying out new items, whip cream and melted chocolate. Eventually though, their supplies were starting to dwindle. Icing was used in place of dough and whip-cream, milk in place of eggs. In the end, the kitchen was a mess― a blender that had been turned on uncapped. The boys sat on the flour and other ingredients covered floor. Their own clothes were ruined; it'd be a race to the shower's too.
Spencer had to admit, though, he hadn't had so much fun since they'd played hide and seek in New York City a year back. He was out of breath and covered in goo, but it didn't matter. Jon's hand hit his knee and a smile was given to him.
"We didn't exactly win, but, in Pete's word's, we went down swinging, babe." Jon threw his head back to hit the counter's bottom cupboard door.
Spencer just laughed, what else could he do? "That was better than I thought it would end up."
"Hold still." Jon studied Spencer's face, covered with flour and icing, a dab of whip-cream or two. "You got some on your nose."
Jon wiped the white sugary matter off of Spencer's nose before offering it up for consumption, it was just icing and flour. Spencer's tongue touched Jon's finger to snag the goo off of its tip and returned to his mouth; vanilla was the best. He was glad for the flour covering, if it wasn't for it, he was sure he'd of been blushing when a nose was nuzzled to his neck and a tongue licked off more of the sugary goo.
DECEMBER 25th
Christmas morning came and went. The exchanging of gifts was fun yet brief. Phone calls were made to erasure worried relatives, Brendon's mother especially. Breakfast had been warm, and lunch skipped in anticipation of dinner; ham, potatoes, pies, and some form of odd casserole that made Spencer's head throb with its smell. Oddly enough, the day was going perfectly, better than the past Christmases in Vegas with a hyper Brendon and several family members calling, dropping by, and texting.
After dinner, Spencer had offered to help Jon with the dishes, collecting the china, crystal, and silver (all of them various family heir looms in one form or another) from the other's spots on the table.
On their way into the kitchen, just under the arch-way, Spencer had dropped the forks he had collected onto the aged oak flooring. They splattered everywhere and when he stood up, he stopped at the sound of the voice behind him.
"Look up, boys." Brendon giggled from behind the pair.
Slowly, Spencer turned his head to look up at the roof of the arch-way. It took a split second for his heart rate to skip into over drive. Butterflies formed in his stomach.
"Oh, God. Please don't," Ryan spoke once he took notice to the situation.
Jon chuckled and looked down at the blushing younger. Spencer officially hated plants. Plants and Christmas decorations. At the top of the arch-way, Spencer cursed his luck silently, hung the family heir-loom of three years. What had to be the world's oldest piece of mistletoe, daunting him with its worldly traditions.
"Come on, Spencey! Kiss him!" Brendon's peppy cheer-leader style wasn't helping any.
Spencer had never been good at admitting his problems to others. He was too stubborn to show any weakness. In this case, it was love. Instead, his being spewed embarrassment, which, wasn't all a front. Confusion, however, would of been a better assessment of the situation. His thoughts were tripping over each other; should he kiss him or chicken out? Either way, the potential result was not a good one in his eyes. He had to choose, though, and his heart was taking over his mind.
On a whim, he stood up on his tip-toes and put his mouth to Jon's in a flash before pulling back down away and diverting his gaze to the floor, all in one swift move. Spencer bit his lip, waiting for the inevitable answer that Jon was forming on his tongue.
A smile replaced the puzzled look on Jon's face; "What took you so long?"
"Wait, what?" Spencer looked up at the warm smile, confused.
"Oh, come on, Spence, we all knew you wanted to," Ryan retorted before Jon could speak.
"But I thought that-"
"That I'd be creeped out?" Jon's smile grew wider.
"Yeah, that." Spencer gave his eyes to the floor again.
"Why would I be?"
"Because you don't go...that...way?"
"No, Spencer, you really couldn't tell? Not after all of that?" Jon chuckled.
"Look....I..." Spencer sighed. "Just forget it."
Jon chuckled again, taking Spencer's chin in his hands so they boy would look him in the eyes. "Let's try this again."
Gently, Jon pulled them closer and closer together, closing the gap between their mouths. Jon licked Spencer's lower lip and took advantage of the inexperienced boy when he gasped, inviting himself in. He was slow, careful, he didn't want to scare the timid adolescent. Spencer responded, doing what he could in the awkward new position.
"Oh, get a room!" Ryan snapped. "We don't want to see that."
His words were followed by an ear-splitting "OW!" as a result of Brendon slapping him upside his head.
Jon and Spencer hardly acknowledged the new bicker between the two; they were too wrapped up in their moment. Not even Dove Chocolate could beat the feeling, and for Jon, that was saying something.
The world had been lifted off of Spencer's shoulders, he no longer had to hide his dark secret, the world officially knew about it. And what's more, he was proud of it. Proud to have given in and shown his weakness. He made a silent vow, though, to control his situations and step up to the plate; there was no longer a need to be shy and timid. It was to perfect to not own, he wanted it.
It was such a night like this in the middle of Chicago's notorious wind-blown, snow-stormed over December that Spencer stood in the arch-way, Jon's mouth on his. That his lips-red and blistered, near bleeding, no longer felt the pain of the seven feet of snow and wind blown conditions of Chicago. No amount of chap-stick was able to fix the biological armmageddon, only a loving touch could. He winced slightly as Jon's tongue gently prodded a blister on his lower lip before pulling away. Perhaps, Pete's advice worked, he was able to stand up to his fears of what society would think of him, he was able to live the moment like he was dying. Take him, or someone else just might snatch him up instead. The very thought made him shudder; Jon was his now.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered after a second of leaning on Jon's chest.
"Merry Christmas, baby."
*