part 2
Part 1.
Brendon glances over at Ryan from where he's sitting on a mini chair on wheels. Ryan's kneeling on the floor in front of a line of kids dressed in pumpkin suits and he's got one of Brendon's kids, Jessica, at his knees, her chin pinched gently between two fingers as he paints her face with orange face wax. Brendon watches as Ryan drops his hand and colors in the spots where his fingers were, then gives Jessica a huge smile and sends her on her way, waiting for the next kid to step up.
Brendon sighs and looks back at his own line, Jordan staring up at him expectantly. Ryan hadn't wanted to help at first; Brendon knows he's kind of terrified of little children, but Brendon had desperately needed the help and all he'd had to do was round out his eyes and pout out his bottom lip and Ryan was agreeing, reluctantly, to help paint Brendon's kids' faces. Brendon hadn't really been prepared for the sight of Ryan sitting there, smiling at the children, talking softly to them as he makes them into pumpkins. It does funny things to Brendon's chest, makes him gasp a little for breath, and his fingers aren't quite steady on Jordan's cheek when he tries to return his focus to the matter at hand.
He manages to get through his line of children without looking back over at Ryan, and when the last kid toddles off to where the director of the play is standing and waiting, he swivels in his chair to face Ryan. Ryan's done as well, and is sitting down, back resting against the desk behind him. He smiles over at Brendon, wiggles orange-stained fingers at him, and Brendon laughs, stands up and walks over to help Ryan up. Ryan grips his hand, pulling himself upright, stumbling into Brendon a bit as he steadies himself, catches himself before his orange hand lands on Brendon's shoulder. "Hey, sorry. Uh, I think I need to wash my hands."
Brendon grins, "Yeah, here, follow me."
They get their hands clean and walk back into the classroom just as the director is poking her head in. She whispers, "Go get seated, it's starting!"
Brendon's eyes widen with excitement and Ryan smiles at him, goes willingly when Brendon wraps a hand around his bicep and tugs him into the hall and down to the auditorium. They find seats in the middle, reserved for teachers and their guests, and Brendon pulls Ryan down next to him, stretching an arm across the back of Ryan's chair and knocking their knees together as the lights dim down.
By the time the lights come back on, Brendon is sitting on the edge of his seat, one hand pressed to his mouth, the other in Ryan's lap, their fingers tangled together. The curtain falls and he turns to Ryan, eyes wide, and Ryan smiles. "They were great, Brendon."
Brendon giggles, "They didn't do anything, Ryan. Ohmygod, they were amazing!"
He stands up, pulling Ryan with him, and drags him around backstage where his kids are all grouped, trying to wiggle out of their pumpkin suits. Jordan spots him and exclaims, "Mister B!"
Brendon drops to his knees and pulls Jordan to him, and his kids all crowd closer, babbling excitedly. Brendon grins widely at them, reaching out to the ones nearest him and ruffling their hair. "You guys, you were awesome! Seriously, you were the best pumpkins I've ever seen!"
The kids all try to press closer, hampered by their bulky costumes, and try to talk over each other. Brendon laughs and looks over his shoulder at Ryan, waving him in. Ryan steps up, lays a hand on Brendon's shoulder, and Brendon looks at the kids, saying, "Now, guys, I think there's something you should say to my friend Ryan for helping you with your costumes."
They all call out together, "Thank you, Mister Ryan!"
Ryan ducks his head and grins, leans in to tug on one of Jessica's pigtails. "No problem."
Jessica giggles and stares up at Ryan with wide eyes, and Brendon stands up, claps his hands together. "Okay, time to get changed and find your parents!"
The director walks up, patting Brendon on the shoulder. "Their parents are just coming in, so we've got it from here. Have a good night, boys."
Brendon turns to Ryan, eyebrow raised. "You ready to go?"
Ryan nods and Brendon nudges his shoulder, leads him outside. "So, what did you think?"
Ryan looks up and blows out a breath, a visible white plume puffing up into the night sky, and he looks over his shoulder at Brendon. "They were great. It was great." He turns to face Brendon and Brendon smiles up at him, reaches out to twine their fingers together again. "Seriously."
Something catches Brendon's eye and he looks up, mouth stretching into a soft grin at the sight of the gleaming full moon, glowing slightly in the weak light from the street lamp above them. "Ryan," he whispers. "Ryan, it's a full moon." Ryan looks up, too, and Brendon steps in closer, sliding his hand up to Ryan's wrist, further up his arm until he's cupping Ryan's shoulder. "Ry."
Ryan looks down at him and Brendon raises himself up onto his toes and, shutting his eyes, presses his lips to Ryan's. For a second, Ryan doesn't respond, and Brendon opens his mouth to say his name, but then Ryan's arms are coming around him, wrapping around his waist and pulling him in tight, and he's parting his lips, angling his head to the side to fit his lips over Brendon's. Brendon clutches at his shoulders, pressing in tight, the whole world zeroing in until it's just them, standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the soft moonlight.
Brendon has no idea how long they stand there, kissing softly, but the cold starts to seep in under his jacket and the world starts to expand again, senses other than feel and taste returning to him and he's aware of the sound of the front doors to the school clanging open, the faint chatter of parents and children as they exit the building. Squeezing Ryan's shoulders, he pulls back reluctantly, setting himself away but letting his hand find Ryan's again. He grins up at Ryan, open and happy, and says, "Hey, come on, Ryan, let's go home."
;;
Spencer is working out a crick in his neck from slouching over his calculator when his Blackberry vibrates against his hip. Collapsing against the back of his chair, he presses the button on his earpiece. “Spencer Smith.”
A familiar voice comes through the line. "Hey, Spence, it's Jon."
Spencer fights the smile curving his lips, forces himself to stay casual, professional. "Hi, Jon. What can I do for you?"
"So, I was just going over some stuff and I had a question. There's something I don't really understand here." He pauses, then huffs out a laugh. "Where is all of this money coming from? The band can't be making that much, we're not that big..."
Spencer leans over to rest his elbows on his desk and prop his chin up with stacked palms. Amused, he says, "Jon, did your old accountant do everything without consulting you? You have investments."
"...I do?"
Spencer laughs and bends to pull Jon's portfolio from his file drawer, flipping it open. "Yeah, your previous accountant invested some money for you. At least he knew what he was doing, too, because they're definitely making you money. Records of the investments are under the tab marked 'investments.'"
"Oh. That's logical."
Spencer grins stupidly down at his hands splayed across the pages of Jon's portfolio. "Yeah, so if you have any more questions, just call me, okay?"
He can hear the smile in Jon's voice when he says, "You know I will." Spencer is just lifting his hand to press the hang-up button on his earpiece when Jon says, "Oh, hey, Spencer?"
"Yeah, Jon?"
"Do you want to maybe have dinner before you leave for Vegas?" Spencer's eyes widen, hand falling down into his lap from where it had been hovering by his ear. Jon continues, "You know, just as a thank you for everything you've done for me."
Spencer looks down at his lap and says weakly, "It's my job."
Jon sighs into the phone. "Yeah, but you know what I mean."
Biting his lip, Spencer looks up, staring blankly at his computer screen. Little fish are swimming through rising bubbles on his screen saver and it's hypnotizing. "Jon..."
"It's just dinner, Spence."
His gaze falls to Jon's portfolio, still open on his desk. "I'm just. I'm really busy right now, you know? I have to get everything done before I leave for vacation. Two weeks is a long time to be away."
It's a weak argument at best, but Jon doesn't protest further. He just says quietly, "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Hey, if I don't talk to you before you leave, have a safe flight, all right? And don't forget to bring your friends to the show on the twentieth."
Spencer nods, then remembers Jon can't see him. "I won't. Have a good day, Jon."
After he hangs up, Spencer drops his head down onto his hands, laid flat on the edge of his desk. "Ugh. Ridiculous. Get over it, Spencer." He bangs his forehead against his desk once, deliberately, then sits up, rubbing at the red spot. Glancing back down at Jon's papers, he mutters, "Fuck."
;;
"So, why are we going to this thing, again?"
Spencer tugs his t-shirt down over his hips, tilts his head to look over at Ryan. "Because I promised him. Plus, he's called me about four times to make sure I was still coming and bringing you guys."
Pressing his face into Ryan's shoulder, Brendon says, "Besides, why should Spencer let Jon's hottie boyfriend stop him from enjoying good music?"
Spencer nods in agreement and Ryan raises an eyebrow. "Uh, I think that was it right there. The part about the 'hottie boyfriend' he didn't tell you about?"
"I'm his accountant, Ryan. He's my client; he doesn't have to tell me about every aspect of his personal life. Or any aspect of it, really."
Ryan rolls his eyes. "You're such a fucking goody-goody, Spence."
They get there just as the set is starting. Spencer can hear the lead singer speaking to the crowd, introducing themselves, through the closed doors. The bouncer raises an eyebrow at Spencer and grunts, "Tickets or guest list?"
Spencer wrings his fingers in the hem of his shirt and murmurs, "Guest list. Name's Spencer Smith?"
The bouncer checks his clipboard, front page titled '504 Plan Guest List', and says, "Smith plus two, you got it," and nods them in. The music has already started and Spencer can see Jon standing on the right side of the stage over everyone's heads and he glances back at Ryan and Brendon, waves a hand at them to follow him, then starts pushing through as close up as he can get. Which, it turns out, is pretty damn close. When Spencer looks up, he can see everything perfectly. He's two people away from the barricade and when he looks over at Jon, Jon meets his eyes, grins hugely and waves. Spencer blushes, looking away, and Ryan pants into his ear, "This band had better be fucking worth the bruises I'm going to have on my body in the morning."
Leaning back so he can call into Ryan's ear, Spencer says, "Jon's on the right."
Ryan looks over, leans in to murmur something to Brendon, and then Brendon is plastered to Spencer's back, arms curling around his neck from behind, and he's shouting at Spencer, "Ohmygod, he's hot!"
Rolling his eyes, Spencer shouts back, pointing to the left side of the stage, "And that's Tom!"
Brendon cranes his neck so he can see around Spencer, then says, softer this time, "Oh. Um, wow."
Spencer nods, catches Brendon's eye, and Brendon smiles ruefully, brushes a soft kiss over Spencer's temple before uncurling from around him and sliding back over to Ryan, fitting himself to Ryan's front and drawing Ryan's arms around him. Spencer watches Ryan hook his chin over Brendon's shoulder, press his lips to the side of his neck in a brief kiss before looking up at the stage, and he sighs to himself, lets himself watch Jon play.
Jon catches his eye periodically, just like last time, and, also like last time, wanders over to Tom's side of the stage to press in close and share his mic. At one point, he even presses a smacking kiss to Tom's forehead before wandering off, and Spencer decides to focus on the drummer for the rest of the show.
After the show, Spencer, Ryan and Brendon linger by the side of the stage. Brendon is sitting on the actual stage, legs curled up against his chest, and Ryan is standing beside Spencer, leaning into his side with his head on Spencer's shoulder. He murmurs, barely audible over the din of people leaving, "They were good."
Spencer nods. "Yeah, they are. They -"
He's cut off by Jon's bandmates leaving from backstage, laughing loudly and clapping each other on the back, calling goodbyes to each other for the night as they head out with various friends. Jon comes out last and he looks around the room before spotting Spencer in the corner. Grinning, he walks over and Brendon unfolds himself, standing up. "Hey, guys! I'm so glad you came."
Brendon beams at him, leans in and says, "You guys were awesome! I'm Brendon, by the way."
Jon holds a hand out to Brendon and Brendon takes it, shakes Jon's hand enthusiastically. "Thanks, Brendon." He turns to Spencer and Ryan.
Ryan doesn't move from his spot, leaning on Spencer, but he holds a hand out, shakes Jon's briefly and says, voice low, "Ryan."
Jon nods, smiles at Spencer. "Thanks for coming, guys." He moves like he wants to reach out for Spencer, but Spencer stays put, mindful that Tom is standing by the door on his cell phone. The moment passes, though, and Jon just keeps smiling. "So, you guys want to go grab some coffee or something?"
Brendon nods eagerly and Ryan laughs at him, reaches out to rub a hand over the back of Brendon's head, pushing away from the wall and Spencer.
;;
Brendon slips through the door of one of those one-person bathrooms in the coffee shop and finds Ryan leaning against the wall next to the sink, smirking at him. Rolling his eyes, Brendon mutters, "Subtle," locking the door behind him.
Ryan just pushes away from the wall, steps forward until he's pressing Brendon into the door, legs bracketing Brendon's, their hips sliding together. He nuzzles under Brendon's jaw, fingers tucking into the waistband of Brendon's pants, cool against his skin. "Jon and Tom aren't dating."
Brendon tips his head back against the door, eyes fluttering shut, and he's not really listening, most of his mind focused on where Ryan's fingers lie flush with the jut of his hipbones, fingernails scratching lightly at the tops of his thighs. God, Ryan's fingers are really, really long. Ryan tilts his hand to the side, rubs the backs of his fingers over the skin of his lower belly, and Brendon's thoughts fragment. He's only dimly aware of Ryan talking to him. "Hmm?"
Ryan leans back a bit to look at him, licks his lips. "Jon and Tom. Definitely not dating."
"Mm, yeah, okay." Brendon nods, reaches out for Ryan and pulls him in so Ryan's weight rests heavily against his chest.
Ryan mumbles against his neck, "No, really. Jon likes Spencer." He licks over Brendon's pulse-point. "A lot," licks again, "I can tell," fits his lips over the spot and sucks, hard.
Groaning, hips hitching forward, Brendon lets his hands fall to Ryan's hips, shifting and rearranging until Ryan's got one leg pressed up between his. Brendon shifts down against the thigh between his, rubs his body up against Ryan's and breathes, hot and damp against Ryan's ear, "Ry, stop talking about Spencer and put your hand down my pants, okay?"
Ryan's lips curve against Brendon's neck and his fingers withdraw from the waist of Brendon's pants, meeting at the button in the middle and working it open. One finger slips in to slide the zipper down slowly and Brendon moans again, tilts his hips forward, against Ryan's fingers still occupied with his zipper. He babbles, "Ryan. Ryan, come on, Ryan."
Ryan chuckles into his cheek, breath ghosting across his skin, whispers, "I've got to get your pants down, Brendon." Brendon breathes out, harsh, and Ryan shakes his head, lips brushing across his cheekbone. There's a smile in his voice when he says, "I can't fit my hand in there."
This time when Brendon groans, it's out of frustration, and he grits out, "Fuck you, come on. We don't have time, Ryan." Blowing his bangs out of his eyes, Brendon shoves Ryan away with the backs of his hands against Ryan's stomach, sets to work on Ryan's belt. Ryan sucks in a breath as Brendon's knuckles press into his belly and he drags Brendon's hips forward, tugging Brendon's pants down as far as he can reach. Brendon only manages to get Ryan's pants down around his thighs before Ryan is crowding him in against the door, fingers pressing into the wood on either side of Brendon's head as he pushes their hips together.
Brendon's breath stutters out and he clutches blindly at Ryan's side, other hand wrapping around the doorknob for stability. His head thumps back against the door as Ryan shifts up, presses close so that their dicks slide together. He groans around an exhale, spreading his legs wider so Ryan can get in, closer still, and Ryan tips his forehead down against Brendon's collarbone, breathing hotly down Brendon's shirt. His hands draw into fists against the door and Brendon turns his head, presses his face into Ryan's hair, fingers curling in the fabric of Ryan's shirt over his back. He still smells like the morning's shower, like coconut and vanilla. "Ryan. Ry."
Ryan rocks his forehead against Brendon's shoulder, twists his hips against Brendon's. He raises his head, presses his face into Brendon's cheek as they move together, little desperate noises falling from his lips, and he edges back a little, shoves a hand down between them to wrap around their dicks. He breathes against the corner of Brendon's mouth, "Come on, Brendon."
Turning a little so he can fit his mouth over Ryan's, Brendon whimpers, nails scrabbling for purchase on Ryan's back as he thrusts into the curve of Ryan's palm. One hand slides up Ryan's back, fisting in his hair, and he sinks his teeth into Ryan's bottom lip when he comes. Licking across the marks his teeth left, Brendon pitches his voice low, slips a hand between them to curve over the back of Ryan's palm, fingers pressing down between so he can rub the tips of his over Ryan's cock. He murmurs against Ryan's mouth, "Ryan."
When Ryan comes, he moans into Brendon's mouth, sending little tremors through Brendon's body, and Brendon slumps back against the door, lips pressed to Ryan's temple as they catch their breath. "Shit. That was -"
Ryan tilts his head back so he can raise an eyebrow at Brendon and Brendon grins, leans in to press his lips to Ryan's in a quick kiss. Ryan is just tilting his head to deepen it when a light tap sounds on the door and they can hear Spencer hiss, "Guys! Guys, what the fuck!"
Brendon scrambles out from between Ryan and the door, reaching for paper towels and shoving some at Ryan, turning the sink on and cleaning himself up. Ryan clears his throat, calls out, "Be right out, Spence."
They hear Spencer walk away and Ryan turns to look at Brendon, eyes wide. Brendon giggles, buttoning up his pants and stepping over to press his wet palms to Ryan's cheeks. "As if they didn't know what we were doing."
;;
Spencer glares as Brendon and Ryan make their way back to the table. So, so unsubtle. Jon just grins up at them, says affably, "Hey, you guys doin' okay?"
Brendon beams at Jon as he takes the seat across from him and Spencer lets Brendon chatter away to Jon, leans into Ryan's space and bites out, "You guys are ridiculous. Here? Now? You couldn't wait?"
Ryan doesn't look contrite -- he just shrugs, smiling a little as he shifts his gaze over to watch Brendon. Sighing, Spencer slumps into his seat. He can feel Jon's eyes on him, but he stares resolutely down at the table, curving both hands around his cup of coffee and rubbing his thumb over the rough Styrofoam.
;;
"So, seriously, you should just bring it up."
Spencer scowls down at the phone resting on the counter, pats a towel over his face. "And embarrass myself even more? Fuck, no."
He can hear Ryan's gusty sigh, translating over the phone line as a burst of static. "I'm pretty sure there is absolutely nothing going on between them, Spence. Remember what Jon said? Best friends since high school?"
"Hey, Ry? Change the subject, because I don't want to talk about this anymore."
There's a pause, then Ryan is saying, voice resigned, "Fine. But you're kind of pathetic, you know that, right?"
Spencer is making his way from the kitchen to his bedroom, face buried in today's newspaper, when a knock sounds on the door. Frowning, Spencer glances at the wall clock over the television in the den. It reads 9 p.m. Glancing around briefly to make sure nothing is out of place, Spencer drops the newspaper onto the coffee table and, smoothing his hands self-consciously down over his pajama pants, walks over to the door, pressing his eye to the peep hole. He can just make out the side of someone's face, longish brown hair brushed to the side.
Confused, Spencer flips the dead bolt and pulls the door open, eyebrows shooting up at the sight of Jon smiling up at him. Foregoing pleasantries, Spencer outright asks, shock and annoyance coloring his voice, "How do you know where I live?"
Jon's smile widens and he says, stepping forward, "Hey, Spencer, it's nice to see you, too! I've also missed our weekly meetings; I definitely agree that we should start them up again."
Spencer is not amused. He folds his arms across his chest, taps a bare foot against the tile. He tries to convey his thoughts to Jon through the angle of his eyebrows, the tilt of his hips. This is unprofessional. You can't be here. Jon doesn't pick up on it and, unfazed, he pushes past Spencer into the apartment. Taking a look around, he nods, lips pursed. "Wow. I had no idea you were so uptight about cleanliness." He turns to grin at Spencer. "Now I know why it took me so long to get you to come back to my apartment a second time."
Spencer doesn't move from the doorway, doesn't even shut the door behind him. He doesn't want to give Jon the illusion that he's allowed to stay. "What do you want, Jon? This couldn't have waited till morning? And a phone call? And seriously, how did you find out where I live?"
Jon walks over, shoulders Spencer aside so he can shut the door himself. He slants a look sideways at Spencer, smiles devilishly and answers simply, "Brendon."
Spencer groans and rubs his hands over his face, mutters, "I'm going to kill him."
Jon 'tsk's at him. "If you did that, I'm pretty sure Ryan would kill you. And anyway, you don't want to go to prison. You'd be made someone's girlfriend the second you stepped foot in there."
Spencer stares at Jon with disbelief. "What are you talking about? Why are you here?"
Jon ignores him, circles a hand around Spencer’s wrist and smiles at him. “So, are you gonna give me the grand tour?”
Spencer stares down at him, but Jon just blinks back and Spencer sighs, says in a dull, resigned voice, “This is the living room.”
Jon grins, slides his hand down Spencer’s wrist to curl their hands together. Spencer stares stupidly down at their hands for a moment, but then Jon tugs on his and tilts his head toward the kitchen. “And in there?”
Spencer rolls his eyes and lets Jon drag him over there. Jon peers around and Spencer cocks a hip against the doorframe and says, “This is the kitchen.”
Jon stretches his arm out to run a finger across the cold granite countertop. The room is completely spotless. “Very nice.” He shoots Spencer a look, eyes smiling. “You don’t use it very much, do you?” Spencer’s cheeks flush and he ducks his head, shrugs. He opens his mouth to defend himself and Jon interrupts. “Hey, it’s cool, you’re a workaholic, I get it.”
Spencer scowls, cheeks flushing darker. “I am not a workaholic!”
Jon just tugs him out of the kitchen doorway. “Sure you aren’t. Hey, what’s down this hall?”
Spencer stops, digs his heels in and pulls Jon back. “We’re not going back there.”
Jon raises an eyebrow at him, smirks and steps close. “Afraid to show me your bedroom, Spencer?”
Spencer narrows his eyes and tugs his hand out of Jon’s grip, crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t think -“
Jon cuts him off. “Spencer.” He takes another step closer, lifts his hands to settle over Spencer’s hips. Spencer starts to shift back nervously, Jon is here, in his apartment and he's scruffy and wearing a plain cotton undershirt and he's dating Tom, but Jon tightens his grip. Rolling his eyes, Jon says, “You are so stupid.” Spencer starts to protest, defend his own honor or something, but Jon just presses on, “Spencer, Tom and I are friends. Best friends. Since high school.”
Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he looks away, shoves at Jon’s shoulders, pushing him back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lips pursed, Jon reaches out and snags a hand in the waistband of Spencer’s pants, tugs him forward again. Spencer stumbles a little, hands landing on Jon’s shoulders. Squinting up at Spencer, Jon says, “Hmm. Glasses could be sexy, I guess. If you got those little frameless ones, maybe.”
Spencer has no idea what Jon’s saying and he’s having trouble breathing. Jon is crowded into his personal space, hands framing his hips again, and he can feel the tops of Jon’s thighs against his, flannel catching on rough denim. He breathes out, “I don’t. What are you talking about?”
He can see the little crinkles at the corners of Jon’s eyes again and Jon says, thumbs sliding in just under the waistband of Spencer’s pants, “You must really be blind, Spencer.” His gaze drops to Spencer’s mouth and he murmurs, “Really blind.” Lifting his eyes back to Spencer’s, he asks, “Seriously, when’s the last time you got your eyes checked?”
Confused. Spencer is really confused. His fingertips dig into the muscle over Jon’s shoulderblades and he says, “Um, like a year ago? I…why?”
Jon rolls his eyes, his smile back and spreading across his face. His hands slide up Spencer’s sides, fingers pressing into Spencer’s ribs as he raises up onto his toes, presses his nose into the side of Spencer’s. Spencer’s breath backs up in his lungs and his fingers clench, hard, on Jon’s shoulders. ”How did you convince your boss you’re so smart?”
Spencer breathes out against Jon’s temple, whispers without thinking, “I don’t know.” One of his hands slides up the side of Jon's neck, his fingers burying themselves on instinct in the hair at the nape of his neck.
He can feel Jon’s grin, cheeks rounded out from the force of it, against his own cheek seconds before Jon is turning his head so their mouths line up. “Lucky for you, this doesn’t require any thinking.”
Spencer barely has time to murmur a weak, last ditch effort at protesting, eyes sliding shut, before Jon's lips are fitting over his. His beard is scratchy against Spencer's face and the kiss is soft and chaste, but when Jon rocks back onto his heels, Spencer follows. Jon chuckles against his mouth, squeezes Spencer's sides, and says, "I'm really going to kiss you now, okay?" Spencer nods. "Okay, just warning you. ‘Cause kissing? Kind of one of my talents. Other than, you know, cooking pasta and playing bass." Spencer really, really wants to swallow his s's.
Jon leans back a couple inches. "You want to what?"
Spencer stares. "...Did I say that aloud?" Jon grins wide and nods. Groaning, Spencer buries his face in Jon's shoulder. "It made more sense in my head, I swear. It's just." He picks his head back up to look at Jon, eyes wide.
Jon rolls his eyes, still smiling. "Spencer Smith, do you have a thing about my lisp?"
Spencer nods, wide eyes fixed on Jon's mouth, and Jon laughs. He slides his hands up Spencer's shoulders, then down to circle his wrists, tugs him over to the couch. Spencer lets Jon push him back into it, shifting sideways when Jon flops down next to him. Bracing his hands on Spencer's knees, Jon leans in and presses his mouth to Spencer's. Spencer makes a little noise, hands coming up to cup Jon's cheek, fingertips sliding into the hair at his temples, and Jon pushes up onto his knees so he can get in closer. Spencer tilts his head, parts his lips and lets Jon deepen the kiss.
Jon wobbles a little, making a frustrated noise and pulling back a bit. "So, not to freak you out or anything, but I'm about to fall over, so I'm going to get you horizontal, okay?" Spencer swallows nervously, but nods, hands sliding down to Jon's shoulders as he leans back to lie across the couch. Smiling reassuringly, Jon crawls over him. "Don't worry, Spencer, I won't take advantage of you. Tonight." His grin turns wolfish and he says, suggestively, "Unless you want me to."
Rolling his eyes, Spencer fists his hands in the collar of Jon's shirt and tugs him down until Jon's lips slide across his and he can lick into Jon's mouth. Jon hums, pleased, and lowers himself gently over Spencer, settling down between Spencer's splayed legs. Spencer sucks in a breath when Jon runs his hands down his sides, thumbs pressing in between his ribs, and he arches his back as Jon licks his way down the side of his neck. Hands sliding down over Jon's back, Spencer whispers, "Jon. Jon, I don't. This is kind of..." Jon lifts his head to look down at Spencer questioningly. His hair is rumpled from Spencer's fingers, his lips are red, and Spencer just wants to keep kissing him forever. "Just...not too fast, okay?"
Jon grins, sliding his hands up to frame Spencer's cheeks, and he leans in to lick at the corner of Spencer's mouth, whispering back, "Hey. Lucky for you, I'm a gentleman."
Brendon glances over at Ryan from where he's sitting on a mini chair on wheels. Ryan's kneeling on the floor in front of a line of kids dressed in pumpkin suits and he's got one of Brendon's kids, Jessica, at his knees, her chin pinched gently between two fingers as he paints her face with orange face wax. Brendon watches as Ryan drops his hand and colors in the spots where his fingers were, then gives Jessica a huge smile and sends her on her way, waiting for the next kid to step up.
Brendon sighs and looks back at his own line, Jordan staring up at him expectantly. Ryan hadn't wanted to help at first; Brendon knows he's kind of terrified of little children, but Brendon had desperately needed the help and all he'd had to do was round out his eyes and pout out his bottom lip and Ryan was agreeing, reluctantly, to help paint Brendon's kids' faces. Brendon hadn't really been prepared for the sight of Ryan sitting there, smiling at the children, talking softly to them as he makes them into pumpkins. It does funny things to Brendon's chest, makes him gasp a little for breath, and his fingers aren't quite steady on Jordan's cheek when he tries to return his focus to the matter at hand.
He manages to get through his line of children without looking back over at Ryan, and when the last kid toddles off to where the director of the play is standing and waiting, he swivels in his chair to face Ryan. Ryan's done as well, and is sitting down, back resting against the desk behind him. He smiles over at Brendon, wiggles orange-stained fingers at him, and Brendon laughs, stands up and walks over to help Ryan up. Ryan grips his hand, pulling himself upright, stumbling into Brendon a bit as he steadies himself, catches himself before his orange hand lands on Brendon's shoulder. "Hey, sorry. Uh, I think I need to wash my hands."
Brendon grins, "Yeah, here, follow me."
They get their hands clean and walk back into the classroom just as the director is poking her head in. She whispers, "Go get seated, it's starting!"
Brendon's eyes widen with excitement and Ryan smiles at him, goes willingly when Brendon wraps a hand around his bicep and tugs him into the hall and down to the auditorium. They find seats in the middle, reserved for teachers and their guests, and Brendon pulls Ryan down next to him, stretching an arm across the back of Ryan's chair and knocking their knees together as the lights dim down.
By the time the lights come back on, Brendon is sitting on the edge of his seat, one hand pressed to his mouth, the other in Ryan's lap, their fingers tangled together. The curtain falls and he turns to Ryan, eyes wide, and Ryan smiles. "They were great, Brendon."
Brendon giggles, "They didn't do anything, Ryan. Ohmygod, they were amazing!"
He stands up, pulling Ryan with him, and drags him around backstage where his kids are all grouped, trying to wiggle out of their pumpkin suits. Jordan spots him and exclaims, "Mister B!"
Brendon drops to his knees and pulls Jordan to him, and his kids all crowd closer, babbling excitedly. Brendon grins widely at them, reaching out to the ones nearest him and ruffling their hair. "You guys, you were awesome! Seriously, you were the best pumpkins I've ever seen!"
The kids all try to press closer, hampered by their bulky costumes, and try to talk over each other. Brendon laughs and looks over his shoulder at Ryan, waving him in. Ryan steps up, lays a hand on Brendon's shoulder, and Brendon looks at the kids, saying, "Now, guys, I think there's something you should say to my friend Ryan for helping you with your costumes."
They all call out together, "Thank you, Mister Ryan!"
Ryan ducks his head and grins, leans in to tug on one of Jessica's pigtails. "No problem."
Jessica giggles and stares up at Ryan with wide eyes, and Brendon stands up, claps his hands together. "Okay, time to get changed and find your parents!"
The director walks up, patting Brendon on the shoulder. "Their parents are just coming in, so we've got it from here. Have a good night, boys."
Brendon turns to Ryan, eyebrow raised. "You ready to go?"
Ryan nods and Brendon nudges his shoulder, leads him outside. "So, what did you think?"
Ryan looks up and blows out a breath, a visible white plume puffing up into the night sky, and he looks over his shoulder at Brendon. "They were great. It was great." He turns to face Brendon and Brendon smiles up at him, reaches out to twine their fingers together again. "Seriously."
Something catches Brendon's eye and he looks up, mouth stretching into a soft grin at the sight of the gleaming full moon, glowing slightly in the weak light from the street lamp above them. "Ryan," he whispers. "Ryan, it's a full moon." Ryan looks up, too, and Brendon steps in closer, sliding his hand up to Ryan's wrist, further up his arm until he's cupping Ryan's shoulder. "Ry."
Ryan looks down at him and Brendon raises himself up onto his toes and, shutting his eyes, presses his lips to Ryan's. For a second, Ryan doesn't respond, and Brendon opens his mouth to say his name, but then Ryan's arms are coming around him, wrapping around his waist and pulling him in tight, and he's parting his lips, angling his head to the side to fit his lips over Brendon's. Brendon clutches at his shoulders, pressing in tight, the whole world zeroing in until it's just them, standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the soft moonlight.
Brendon has no idea how long they stand there, kissing softly, but the cold starts to seep in under his jacket and the world starts to expand again, senses other than feel and taste returning to him and he's aware of the sound of the front doors to the school clanging open, the faint chatter of parents and children as they exit the building. Squeezing Ryan's shoulders, he pulls back reluctantly, setting himself away but letting his hand find Ryan's again. He grins up at Ryan, open and happy, and says, "Hey, come on, Ryan, let's go home."
;;
Spencer is working out a crick in his neck from slouching over his calculator when his Blackberry vibrates against his hip. Collapsing against the back of his chair, he presses the button on his earpiece. “Spencer Smith.”
A familiar voice comes through the line. "Hey, Spence, it's Jon."
Spencer fights the smile curving his lips, forces himself to stay casual, professional. "Hi, Jon. What can I do for you?"
"So, I was just going over some stuff and I had a question. There's something I don't really understand here." He pauses, then huffs out a laugh. "Where is all of this money coming from? The band can't be making that much, we're not that big..."
Spencer leans over to rest his elbows on his desk and prop his chin up with stacked palms. Amused, he says, "Jon, did your old accountant do everything without consulting you? You have investments."
"...I do?"
Spencer laughs and bends to pull Jon's portfolio from his file drawer, flipping it open. "Yeah, your previous accountant invested some money for you. At least he knew what he was doing, too, because they're definitely making you money. Records of the investments are under the tab marked 'investments.'"
"Oh. That's logical."
Spencer grins stupidly down at his hands splayed across the pages of Jon's portfolio. "Yeah, so if you have any more questions, just call me, okay?"
He can hear the smile in Jon's voice when he says, "You know I will." Spencer is just lifting his hand to press the hang-up button on his earpiece when Jon says, "Oh, hey, Spencer?"
"Yeah, Jon?"
"Do you want to maybe have dinner before you leave for Vegas?" Spencer's eyes widen, hand falling down into his lap from where it had been hovering by his ear. Jon continues, "You know, just as a thank you for everything you've done for me."
Spencer looks down at his lap and says weakly, "It's my job."
Jon sighs into the phone. "Yeah, but you know what I mean."
Biting his lip, Spencer looks up, staring blankly at his computer screen. Little fish are swimming through rising bubbles on his screen saver and it's hypnotizing. "Jon..."
"It's just dinner, Spence."
His gaze falls to Jon's portfolio, still open on his desk. "I'm just. I'm really busy right now, you know? I have to get everything done before I leave for vacation. Two weeks is a long time to be away."
It's a weak argument at best, but Jon doesn't protest further. He just says quietly, "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Hey, if I don't talk to you before you leave, have a safe flight, all right? And don't forget to bring your friends to the show on the twentieth."
Spencer nods, then remembers Jon can't see him. "I won't. Have a good day, Jon."
After he hangs up, Spencer drops his head down onto his hands, laid flat on the edge of his desk. "Ugh. Ridiculous. Get over it, Spencer." He bangs his forehead against his desk once, deliberately, then sits up, rubbing at the red spot. Glancing back down at Jon's papers, he mutters, "Fuck."
;;
"So, why are we going to this thing, again?"
Spencer tugs his t-shirt down over his hips, tilts his head to look over at Ryan. "Because I promised him. Plus, he's called me about four times to make sure I was still coming and bringing you guys."
Pressing his face into Ryan's shoulder, Brendon says, "Besides, why should Spencer let Jon's hottie boyfriend stop him from enjoying good music?"
Spencer nods in agreement and Ryan raises an eyebrow. "Uh, I think that was it right there. The part about the 'hottie boyfriend' he didn't tell you about?"
"I'm his accountant, Ryan. He's my client; he doesn't have to tell me about every aspect of his personal life. Or any aspect of it, really."
Ryan rolls his eyes. "You're such a fucking goody-goody, Spence."
They get there just as the set is starting. Spencer can hear the lead singer speaking to the crowd, introducing themselves, through the closed doors. The bouncer raises an eyebrow at Spencer and grunts, "Tickets or guest list?"
Spencer wrings his fingers in the hem of his shirt and murmurs, "Guest list. Name's Spencer Smith?"
The bouncer checks his clipboard, front page titled '504 Plan Guest List', and says, "Smith plus two, you got it," and nods them in. The music has already started and Spencer can see Jon standing on the right side of the stage over everyone's heads and he glances back at Ryan and Brendon, waves a hand at them to follow him, then starts pushing through as close up as he can get. Which, it turns out, is pretty damn close. When Spencer looks up, he can see everything perfectly. He's two people away from the barricade and when he looks over at Jon, Jon meets his eyes, grins hugely and waves. Spencer blushes, looking away, and Ryan pants into his ear, "This band had better be fucking worth the bruises I'm going to have on my body in the morning."
Leaning back so he can call into Ryan's ear, Spencer says, "Jon's on the right."
Ryan looks over, leans in to murmur something to Brendon, and then Brendon is plastered to Spencer's back, arms curling around his neck from behind, and he's shouting at Spencer, "Ohmygod, he's hot!"
Rolling his eyes, Spencer shouts back, pointing to the left side of the stage, "And that's Tom!"
Brendon cranes his neck so he can see around Spencer, then says, softer this time, "Oh. Um, wow."
Spencer nods, catches Brendon's eye, and Brendon smiles ruefully, brushes a soft kiss over Spencer's temple before uncurling from around him and sliding back over to Ryan, fitting himself to Ryan's front and drawing Ryan's arms around him. Spencer watches Ryan hook his chin over Brendon's shoulder, press his lips to the side of his neck in a brief kiss before looking up at the stage, and he sighs to himself, lets himself watch Jon play.
Jon catches his eye periodically, just like last time, and, also like last time, wanders over to Tom's side of the stage to press in close and share his mic. At one point, he even presses a smacking kiss to Tom's forehead before wandering off, and Spencer decides to focus on the drummer for the rest of the show.
After the show, Spencer, Ryan and Brendon linger by the side of the stage. Brendon is sitting on the actual stage, legs curled up against his chest, and Ryan is standing beside Spencer, leaning into his side with his head on Spencer's shoulder. He murmurs, barely audible over the din of people leaving, "They were good."
Spencer nods. "Yeah, they are. They -"
He's cut off by Jon's bandmates leaving from backstage, laughing loudly and clapping each other on the back, calling goodbyes to each other for the night as they head out with various friends. Jon comes out last and he looks around the room before spotting Spencer in the corner. Grinning, he walks over and Brendon unfolds himself, standing up. "Hey, guys! I'm so glad you came."
Brendon beams at him, leans in and says, "You guys were awesome! I'm Brendon, by the way."
Jon holds a hand out to Brendon and Brendon takes it, shakes Jon's hand enthusiastically. "Thanks, Brendon." He turns to Spencer and Ryan.
Ryan doesn't move from his spot, leaning on Spencer, but he holds a hand out, shakes Jon's briefly and says, voice low, "Ryan."
Jon nods, smiles at Spencer. "Thanks for coming, guys." He moves like he wants to reach out for Spencer, but Spencer stays put, mindful that Tom is standing by the door on his cell phone. The moment passes, though, and Jon just keeps smiling. "So, you guys want to go grab some coffee or something?"
Brendon nods eagerly and Ryan laughs at him, reaches out to rub a hand over the back of Brendon's head, pushing away from the wall and Spencer.
;;
Brendon slips through the door of one of those one-person bathrooms in the coffee shop and finds Ryan leaning against the wall next to the sink, smirking at him. Rolling his eyes, Brendon mutters, "Subtle," locking the door behind him.
Ryan just pushes away from the wall, steps forward until he's pressing Brendon into the door, legs bracketing Brendon's, their hips sliding together. He nuzzles under Brendon's jaw, fingers tucking into the waistband of Brendon's pants, cool against his skin. "Jon and Tom aren't dating."
Brendon tips his head back against the door, eyes fluttering shut, and he's not really listening, most of his mind focused on where Ryan's fingers lie flush with the jut of his hipbones, fingernails scratching lightly at the tops of his thighs. God, Ryan's fingers are really, really long. Ryan tilts his hand to the side, rubs the backs of his fingers over the skin of his lower belly, and Brendon's thoughts fragment. He's only dimly aware of Ryan talking to him. "Hmm?"
Ryan leans back a bit to look at him, licks his lips. "Jon and Tom. Definitely not dating."
"Mm, yeah, okay." Brendon nods, reaches out for Ryan and pulls him in so Ryan's weight rests heavily against his chest.
Ryan mumbles against his neck, "No, really. Jon likes Spencer." He licks over Brendon's pulse-point. "A lot," licks again, "I can tell," fits his lips over the spot and sucks, hard.
Groaning, hips hitching forward, Brendon lets his hands fall to Ryan's hips, shifting and rearranging until Ryan's got one leg pressed up between his. Brendon shifts down against the thigh between his, rubs his body up against Ryan's and breathes, hot and damp against Ryan's ear, "Ry, stop talking about Spencer and put your hand down my pants, okay?"
Ryan's lips curve against Brendon's neck and his fingers withdraw from the waist of Brendon's pants, meeting at the button in the middle and working it open. One finger slips in to slide the zipper down slowly and Brendon moans again, tilts his hips forward, against Ryan's fingers still occupied with his zipper. He babbles, "Ryan. Ryan, come on, Ryan."
Ryan chuckles into his cheek, breath ghosting across his skin, whispers, "I've got to get your pants down, Brendon." Brendon breathes out, harsh, and Ryan shakes his head, lips brushing across his cheekbone. There's a smile in his voice when he says, "I can't fit my hand in there."
This time when Brendon groans, it's out of frustration, and he grits out, "Fuck you, come on. We don't have time, Ryan." Blowing his bangs out of his eyes, Brendon shoves Ryan away with the backs of his hands against Ryan's stomach, sets to work on Ryan's belt. Ryan sucks in a breath as Brendon's knuckles press into his belly and he drags Brendon's hips forward, tugging Brendon's pants down as far as he can reach. Brendon only manages to get Ryan's pants down around his thighs before Ryan is crowding him in against the door, fingers pressing into the wood on either side of Brendon's head as he pushes their hips together.
Brendon's breath stutters out and he clutches blindly at Ryan's side, other hand wrapping around the doorknob for stability. His head thumps back against the door as Ryan shifts up, presses close so that their dicks slide together. He groans around an exhale, spreading his legs wider so Ryan can get in, closer still, and Ryan tips his forehead down against Brendon's collarbone, breathing hotly down Brendon's shirt. His hands draw into fists against the door and Brendon turns his head, presses his face into Ryan's hair, fingers curling in the fabric of Ryan's shirt over his back. He still smells like the morning's shower, like coconut and vanilla. "Ryan. Ry."
Ryan rocks his forehead against Brendon's shoulder, twists his hips against Brendon's. He raises his head, presses his face into Brendon's cheek as they move together, little desperate noises falling from his lips, and he edges back a little, shoves a hand down between them to wrap around their dicks. He breathes against the corner of Brendon's mouth, "Come on, Brendon."
Turning a little so he can fit his mouth over Ryan's, Brendon whimpers, nails scrabbling for purchase on Ryan's back as he thrusts into the curve of Ryan's palm. One hand slides up Ryan's back, fisting in his hair, and he sinks his teeth into Ryan's bottom lip when he comes. Licking across the marks his teeth left, Brendon pitches his voice low, slips a hand between them to curve over the back of Ryan's palm, fingers pressing down between so he can rub the tips of his over Ryan's cock. He murmurs against Ryan's mouth, "Ryan."
When Ryan comes, he moans into Brendon's mouth, sending little tremors through Brendon's body, and Brendon slumps back against the door, lips pressed to Ryan's temple as they catch their breath. "Shit. That was -"
Ryan tilts his head back so he can raise an eyebrow at Brendon and Brendon grins, leans in to press his lips to Ryan's in a quick kiss. Ryan is just tilting his head to deepen it when a light tap sounds on the door and they can hear Spencer hiss, "Guys! Guys, what the fuck!"
Brendon scrambles out from between Ryan and the door, reaching for paper towels and shoving some at Ryan, turning the sink on and cleaning himself up. Ryan clears his throat, calls out, "Be right out, Spence."
They hear Spencer walk away and Ryan turns to look at Brendon, eyes wide. Brendon giggles, buttoning up his pants and stepping over to press his wet palms to Ryan's cheeks. "As if they didn't know what we were doing."
;;
Spencer glares as Brendon and Ryan make their way back to the table. So, so unsubtle. Jon just grins up at them, says affably, "Hey, you guys doin' okay?"
Brendon beams at Jon as he takes the seat across from him and Spencer lets Brendon chatter away to Jon, leans into Ryan's space and bites out, "You guys are ridiculous. Here? Now? You couldn't wait?"
Ryan doesn't look contrite -- he just shrugs, smiling a little as he shifts his gaze over to watch Brendon. Sighing, Spencer slumps into his seat. He can feel Jon's eyes on him, but he stares resolutely down at the table, curving both hands around his cup of coffee and rubbing his thumb over the rough Styrofoam.
;;
"So, seriously, you should just bring it up."
Spencer scowls down at the phone resting on the counter, pats a towel over his face. "And embarrass myself even more? Fuck, no."
He can hear Ryan's gusty sigh, translating over the phone line as a burst of static. "I'm pretty sure there is absolutely nothing going on between them, Spence. Remember what Jon said? Best friends since high school?"
"Hey, Ry? Change the subject, because I don't want to talk about this anymore."
There's a pause, then Ryan is saying, voice resigned, "Fine. But you're kind of pathetic, you know that, right?"
Spencer is making his way from the kitchen to his bedroom, face buried in today's newspaper, when a knock sounds on the door. Frowning, Spencer glances at the wall clock over the television in the den. It reads 9 p.m. Glancing around briefly to make sure nothing is out of place, Spencer drops the newspaper onto the coffee table and, smoothing his hands self-consciously down over his pajama pants, walks over to the door, pressing his eye to the peep hole. He can just make out the side of someone's face, longish brown hair brushed to the side.
Confused, Spencer flips the dead bolt and pulls the door open, eyebrows shooting up at the sight of Jon smiling up at him. Foregoing pleasantries, Spencer outright asks, shock and annoyance coloring his voice, "How do you know where I live?"
Jon's smile widens and he says, stepping forward, "Hey, Spencer, it's nice to see you, too! I've also missed our weekly meetings; I definitely agree that we should start them up again."
Spencer is not amused. He folds his arms across his chest, taps a bare foot against the tile. He tries to convey his thoughts to Jon through the angle of his eyebrows, the tilt of his hips. This is unprofessional. You can't be here. Jon doesn't pick up on it and, unfazed, he pushes past Spencer into the apartment. Taking a look around, he nods, lips pursed. "Wow. I had no idea you were so uptight about cleanliness." He turns to grin at Spencer. "Now I know why it took me so long to get you to come back to my apartment a second time."
Spencer doesn't move from the doorway, doesn't even shut the door behind him. He doesn't want to give Jon the illusion that he's allowed to stay. "What do you want, Jon? This couldn't have waited till morning? And a phone call? And seriously, how did you find out where I live?"
Jon walks over, shoulders Spencer aside so he can shut the door himself. He slants a look sideways at Spencer, smiles devilishly and answers simply, "Brendon."
Spencer groans and rubs his hands over his face, mutters, "I'm going to kill him."
Jon 'tsk's at him. "If you did that, I'm pretty sure Ryan would kill you. And anyway, you don't want to go to prison. You'd be made someone's girlfriend the second you stepped foot in there."
Spencer stares at Jon with disbelief. "What are you talking about? Why are you here?"
Jon ignores him, circles a hand around Spencer’s wrist and smiles at him. “So, are you gonna give me the grand tour?”
Spencer stares down at him, but Jon just blinks back and Spencer sighs, says in a dull, resigned voice, “This is the living room.”
Jon grins, slides his hand down Spencer’s wrist to curl their hands together. Spencer stares stupidly down at their hands for a moment, but then Jon tugs on his and tilts his head toward the kitchen. “And in there?”
Spencer rolls his eyes and lets Jon drag him over there. Jon peers around and Spencer cocks a hip against the doorframe and says, “This is the kitchen.”
Jon stretches his arm out to run a finger across the cold granite countertop. The room is completely spotless. “Very nice.” He shoots Spencer a look, eyes smiling. “You don’t use it very much, do you?” Spencer’s cheeks flush and he ducks his head, shrugs. He opens his mouth to defend himself and Jon interrupts. “Hey, it’s cool, you’re a workaholic, I get it.”
Spencer scowls, cheeks flushing darker. “I am not a workaholic!”
Jon just tugs him out of the kitchen doorway. “Sure you aren’t. Hey, what’s down this hall?”
Spencer stops, digs his heels in and pulls Jon back. “We’re not going back there.”
Jon raises an eyebrow at him, smirks and steps close. “Afraid to show me your bedroom, Spencer?”
Spencer narrows his eyes and tugs his hand out of Jon’s grip, crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t think -“
Jon cuts him off. “Spencer.” He takes another step closer, lifts his hands to settle over Spencer’s hips. Spencer starts to shift back nervously, Jon is here, in his apartment and he's scruffy and wearing a plain cotton undershirt and he's dating Tom, but Jon tightens his grip. Rolling his eyes, Jon says, “You are so stupid.” Spencer starts to protest, defend his own honor or something, but Jon just presses on, “Spencer, Tom and I are friends. Best friends. Since high school.”
Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he looks away, shoves at Jon’s shoulders, pushing him back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lips pursed, Jon reaches out and snags a hand in the waistband of Spencer’s pants, tugs him forward again. Spencer stumbles a little, hands landing on Jon’s shoulders. Squinting up at Spencer, Jon says, “Hmm. Glasses could be sexy, I guess. If you got those little frameless ones, maybe.”
Spencer has no idea what Jon’s saying and he’s having trouble breathing. Jon is crowded into his personal space, hands framing his hips again, and he can feel the tops of Jon’s thighs against his, flannel catching on rough denim. He breathes out, “I don’t. What are you talking about?”
He can see the little crinkles at the corners of Jon’s eyes again and Jon says, thumbs sliding in just under the waistband of Spencer’s pants, “You must really be blind, Spencer.” His gaze drops to Spencer’s mouth and he murmurs, “Really blind.” Lifting his eyes back to Spencer’s, he asks, “Seriously, when’s the last time you got your eyes checked?”
Confused. Spencer is really confused. His fingertips dig into the muscle over Jon’s shoulderblades and he says, “Um, like a year ago? I…why?”
Jon rolls his eyes, his smile back and spreading across his face. His hands slide up Spencer’s sides, fingers pressing into Spencer’s ribs as he raises up onto his toes, presses his nose into the side of Spencer’s. Spencer’s breath backs up in his lungs and his fingers clench, hard, on Jon’s shoulders. ”How did you convince your boss you’re so smart?”
Spencer breathes out against Jon’s temple, whispers without thinking, “I don’t know.” One of his hands slides up the side of Jon's neck, his fingers burying themselves on instinct in the hair at the nape of his neck.
He can feel Jon’s grin, cheeks rounded out from the force of it, against his own cheek seconds before Jon is turning his head so their mouths line up. “Lucky for you, this doesn’t require any thinking.”
Spencer barely has time to murmur a weak, last ditch effort at protesting, eyes sliding shut, before Jon's lips are fitting over his. His beard is scratchy against Spencer's face and the kiss is soft and chaste, but when Jon rocks back onto his heels, Spencer follows. Jon chuckles against his mouth, squeezes Spencer's sides, and says, "I'm really going to kiss you now, okay?" Spencer nods. "Okay, just warning you. ‘Cause kissing? Kind of one of my talents. Other than, you know, cooking pasta and playing bass." Spencer really, really wants to swallow his s's.
Jon leans back a couple inches. "You want to what?"
Spencer stares. "...Did I say that aloud?" Jon grins wide and nods. Groaning, Spencer buries his face in Jon's shoulder. "It made more sense in my head, I swear. It's just." He picks his head back up to look at Jon, eyes wide.
Jon rolls his eyes, still smiling. "Spencer Smith, do you have a thing about my lisp?"
Spencer nods, wide eyes fixed on Jon's mouth, and Jon laughs. He slides his hands up Spencer's shoulders, then down to circle his wrists, tugs him over to the couch. Spencer lets Jon push him back into it, shifting sideways when Jon flops down next to him. Bracing his hands on Spencer's knees, Jon leans in and presses his mouth to Spencer's. Spencer makes a little noise, hands coming up to cup Jon's cheek, fingertips sliding into the hair at his temples, and Jon pushes up onto his knees so he can get in closer. Spencer tilts his head, parts his lips and lets Jon deepen the kiss.
Jon wobbles a little, making a frustrated noise and pulling back a bit. "So, not to freak you out or anything, but I'm about to fall over, so I'm going to get you horizontal, okay?" Spencer swallows nervously, but nods, hands sliding down to Jon's shoulders as he leans back to lie across the couch. Smiling reassuringly, Jon crawls over him. "Don't worry, Spencer, I won't take advantage of you. Tonight." His grin turns wolfish and he says, suggestively, "Unless you want me to."
Rolling his eyes, Spencer fists his hands in the collar of Jon's shirt and tugs him down until Jon's lips slide across his and he can lick into Jon's mouth. Jon hums, pleased, and lowers himself gently over Spencer, settling down between Spencer's splayed legs. Spencer sucks in a breath when Jon runs his hands down his sides, thumbs pressing in between his ribs, and he arches his back as Jon licks his way down the side of his neck. Hands sliding down over Jon's back, Spencer whispers, "Jon. Jon, I don't. This is kind of..." Jon lifts his head to look down at Spencer questioningly. His hair is rumpled from Spencer's fingers, his lips are red, and Spencer just wants to keep kissing him forever. "Just...not too fast, okay?"
Jon grins, sliding his hands up to frame Spencer's cheeks, and he leans in to lick at the corner of Spencer's mouth, whispering back, "Hey. Lucky for you, I'm a gentleman."