Service With A Smile [s/a]
Title: Service With A Smile [s/a]
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: PG-13 for language
Pairing: Brencer if you squint
POV: 3rd, Spencer-centric
Summary: Spencer likes doing things for people.
Word Count: 1,455
Disclaimer: If this happened, I want videos. But I highly doubt it, because it came from my brain, which is kind of cray-cray from all the word dust. So if you Googled yourself to get here, you should probably hit the back button RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.
Beta: ezdeeppornkittn
Author Notes: For the "service" square on my kink_bingo card, here.
Doing things around the house was just something Spencer had liked doing ever since he was a kid. His mother only ever had to tell him to do the laundry or vacuum the carpet once; once he started doing it, he didn't really ever want to stop. His mom was actually concerned that his behavior was abnormal, but she only told him to stop once. When she realized how happy Spencer was doing things around the house, especially on the days she was tired or stressed from work or the twins, she let him do as he pleased. Of course, she showed her appreciation for the help in the form of a rather comfortable weekly allowance that, as a rapidly growing teenager, Spencer wasn't going to turn down.
When Spencer left home to live life on the road as Panic's drummer, he couldn't just leave his habits behind. As much as his own personal hygiene suffered, there was no room for a mess in the van - and later on, the bus - when Spencer was around. He couldn't help but keep their living space as tidy as possible; it was just in his blood. Spencer's need to tidy up was almost as strong as his need to drum. If he didn't clean, Spencer felt like he'd explode. The only problem with that system, though, was there was very little reward for cleanliness in a van or bus-full of teenage boys who could really care less if the clothes they were wearing were clean or if there were crumbs on the floor. There was the personal satisfaction, of course, but there was no acknowledgement, and it sort of made Spencer feel empty.
His behavior earned him the "neat freak" title, but it really wasn't Spencer's need for things to be clean, per se. Spencer wanted to help, to do things for people, and he felt cleaning was the only way that he could. And even though his efforts were taken for granted, he felt proud when someone from another band came into their bus and their first words were, "Holy fuck, it's clean in here?"
It was sometime after Ryan and Jon left the band that Spencer moved in with Brendon. He wasn't really sure what made him decide to live with Brendon, but he had the sneaking suspicion it was his need to help people, and Spencer knew that since Brendon had been on his own, he'd been letting things around the house go undone. Sure, Spencer could survive on his own, as long as he could do something when he went to someone's house, but people were starting to get suspicious of Spencer's intentions when he offered to do the dishes or do even the slightest bit of cleaning because he was a guest.
And maybe it was because Brendon hadn't done it himself in so long, but once things started magically becoming clean, Brendon noticed. It was a few mornings after Spencer moved in; he didn't want to freak Brendon out by cleaning his entire house in one go, or even do anything for a few days just to make sure Brendon didn't think he'd just moved in to be his maid. (Although, when he thinks about it, Spencer would almost be okay with that.)
"Wow, you… you cleaned my kitchen," Brendon muttered as he walked in and stopped in his tracks, blinking around the room half-awake.
Spencer shrugged, fighting off a smile. "Breakfast? I made pancakes."
Brendon let the subject drop, making grabby hands at the plate of pancakes Spencer was brandishing at him. Spencer allowed himself to smile at that, letting Brendon take the plate from his hand. He watched Brendon find a fork in the drawer - they were all clean, Spencer had made sure of that - before snagging the syrup from a cabinet and plopping down at the table. Spencer fixed his own plate and followed.
Spencer was busy drizzling the perfect amount of syrup on his stack of pancakes when Brendon finally said, "You didn't have to."
Spencer let one last drop of syrup out before setting the bottle upright again, wiping the rim with his finger before capping the bottle and licking off his finger. He blinked up at Brendon, willing him to continue.
"Clean the kitchen, I mean. I was going to. Um. Eventually."
Spencer raised an eyebrow, a very clear, 'Oh really?'
"Okay, so I had no plans to clean the kitchen. But really, you didn't have to."
Spencer shrugged again, cutting a triangle out of his pancakes. "I wanted to."
Brendon gave Spencer a calculating look - it really didn't suit him, considering Brendon rarely ever thought that hard about anything, and if he did, it was more than likely related to music or pot - before a vaguely understanding look replaced it and he went back to his pancakes.
***
Spencer probably should have given Brendon more credit; he really wasn't as stupid as most people thought - of course, most people were in agreement that he was a musical genius, just not too smart about anything else.
They were wrong, however. Brendon was surprisingly intuitive, when he wanted to be.
"You missed a spot," Brendon called from the couch once Spencer shut off the vacuum, crunching obnoxiously on a potato chip.
Spencer scoffed, but paused. He never missed a spot. "Where?"
Brendon pointed out the small patch of untouched carpet behind the recliner. He didn't look mad or smug as he did it; he just looked like he was waiting for something, expectant.
Spencer cursed under his breath, turning the vacuum back on and rolling it over to get behind the chair. It was so unlike him to miss a spot. Was he losing his touch?
When he finished he turned the vacuum off again and put it away in the hall closet before taking his spot next to Brendon on the couch. He reached for the remote, but Brendon grabbed it first.
"Nuh uh, you didn't do it right the first time. I get to watch whatever the hell I want."
Spencer would have been mad if he wasn't so shocked. Brendon was… punishing him for not doing something right? Absurd, but in a way, it was strangely satisfying, more so than beating himself up about it, at least.
"Can I have some potato chips, then?" Spencer asked, wondering how far Brendon would take this.
Brendon considered for a moment. "Ask me correctly and I'll think about it."
Spencer was so surprised, he momentarily forgot to reply. Brendon had never been a stickler for correct grammar - far from it, really - and the last time he'd been told to ask for something correctly was by his mother.
"May I have some potato chips, Brendon?"
"Mmm, no, I don't think so. You need to think about why you screwed up and how you're not going to let it happen again."
Spencer sat back against the couch, letting the subject drop. He'd never been punished for doing something wrong. Even his mother would just tell him it was okay and she would fix it.
Spencer vowed to do better next time. Spencer was going to make Brendon proud.
***
"So, I'm doing that interview tomorrow, right?" Brendon said over dinner, stabbing at a pasta shell with his fork. "I was thinking of wearing my red and blue plaid shirt."
Brendon didn't have to say anymore. Spencer knew that shirt was missing a button - he'd been there when Brendon accidentally tore it off - and he knew Brendon was expecting it to be ready to wear the next morning.
"With your brown cardigan? I think you'll have the fans drooling for you," Spencer added in a deadpan, but he knew Brendon was into cardigans lately, and his brown one would work the best with that shirt.
Brendon nodded with a laugh. "They usually do anyway."
After dinner, Spencer found the shirt, sewed a button into the empty space, and threw it and Brendon's cardigan in the wash. Once they dried, Spencer hung them up on the door to Brendon's room, ready to wear.
It wasn't exactly weird, this relationship Spencer and Brendon had forged, but it definitely wasn't your average friendship. If there was something Brendon wanted, he expected Spencer to do it with very little forewarning. Spencer, of course, was more than happy to oblige, willing to go out in the middle of the night to buy supplies for the next morning's breakfast if he had to. Brendon never called Spencer his maid, and Spencer never called Brendon his master; they simply had an unspoken agreement that this was how it was, and it worked.
Social norms be damned.
-----------------------------------------
A/N: More of my work here.
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: PG-13 for language
Pairing: Brencer if you squint
POV: 3rd, Spencer-centric
Summary: Spencer likes doing things for people.
Word Count: 1,455
Disclaimer: If this happened, I want videos. But I highly doubt it, because it came from my brain, which is kind of cray-cray from all the word dust. So if you Googled yourself to get here, you should probably hit the back button RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.
Beta: ezdeeppornkittn
Author Notes: For the "service" square on my kink_bingo card, here.
Doing things around the house was just something Spencer had liked doing ever since he was a kid. His mother only ever had to tell him to do the laundry or vacuum the carpet once; once he started doing it, he didn't really ever want to stop. His mom was actually concerned that his behavior was abnormal, but she only told him to stop once. When she realized how happy Spencer was doing things around the house, especially on the days she was tired or stressed from work or the twins, she let him do as he pleased. Of course, she showed her appreciation for the help in the form of a rather comfortable weekly allowance that, as a rapidly growing teenager, Spencer wasn't going to turn down.
When Spencer left home to live life on the road as Panic's drummer, he couldn't just leave his habits behind. As much as his own personal hygiene suffered, there was no room for a mess in the van - and later on, the bus - when Spencer was around. He couldn't help but keep their living space as tidy as possible; it was just in his blood. Spencer's need to tidy up was almost as strong as his need to drum. If he didn't clean, Spencer felt like he'd explode. The only problem with that system, though, was there was very little reward for cleanliness in a van or bus-full of teenage boys who could really care less if the clothes they were wearing were clean or if there were crumbs on the floor. There was the personal satisfaction, of course, but there was no acknowledgement, and it sort of made Spencer feel empty.
His behavior earned him the "neat freak" title, but it really wasn't Spencer's need for things to be clean, per se. Spencer wanted to help, to do things for people, and he felt cleaning was the only way that he could. And even though his efforts were taken for granted, he felt proud when someone from another band came into their bus and their first words were, "Holy fuck, it's clean in here?"
It was sometime after Ryan and Jon left the band that Spencer moved in with Brendon. He wasn't really sure what made him decide to live with Brendon, but he had the sneaking suspicion it was his need to help people, and Spencer knew that since Brendon had been on his own, he'd been letting things around the house go undone. Sure, Spencer could survive on his own, as long as he could do something when he went to someone's house, but people were starting to get suspicious of Spencer's intentions when he offered to do the dishes or do even the slightest bit of cleaning because he was a guest.
And maybe it was because Brendon hadn't done it himself in so long, but once things started magically becoming clean, Brendon noticed. It was a few mornings after Spencer moved in; he didn't want to freak Brendon out by cleaning his entire house in one go, or even do anything for a few days just to make sure Brendon didn't think he'd just moved in to be his maid. (Although, when he thinks about it, Spencer would almost be okay with that.)
"Wow, you… you cleaned my kitchen," Brendon muttered as he walked in and stopped in his tracks, blinking around the room half-awake.
Spencer shrugged, fighting off a smile. "Breakfast? I made pancakes."
Brendon let the subject drop, making grabby hands at the plate of pancakes Spencer was brandishing at him. Spencer allowed himself to smile at that, letting Brendon take the plate from his hand. He watched Brendon find a fork in the drawer - they were all clean, Spencer had made sure of that - before snagging the syrup from a cabinet and plopping down at the table. Spencer fixed his own plate and followed.
Spencer was busy drizzling the perfect amount of syrup on his stack of pancakes when Brendon finally said, "You didn't have to."
Spencer let one last drop of syrup out before setting the bottle upright again, wiping the rim with his finger before capping the bottle and licking off his finger. He blinked up at Brendon, willing him to continue.
"Clean the kitchen, I mean. I was going to. Um. Eventually."
Spencer raised an eyebrow, a very clear, 'Oh really?'
"Okay, so I had no plans to clean the kitchen. But really, you didn't have to."
Spencer shrugged again, cutting a triangle out of his pancakes. "I wanted to."
Brendon gave Spencer a calculating look - it really didn't suit him, considering Brendon rarely ever thought that hard about anything, and if he did, it was more than likely related to music or pot - before a vaguely understanding look replaced it and he went back to his pancakes.
***
Spencer probably should have given Brendon more credit; he really wasn't as stupid as most people thought - of course, most people were in agreement that he was a musical genius, just not too smart about anything else.
They were wrong, however. Brendon was surprisingly intuitive, when he wanted to be.
"You missed a spot," Brendon called from the couch once Spencer shut off the vacuum, crunching obnoxiously on a potato chip.
Spencer scoffed, but paused. He never missed a spot. "Where?"
Brendon pointed out the small patch of untouched carpet behind the recliner. He didn't look mad or smug as he did it; he just looked like he was waiting for something, expectant.
Spencer cursed under his breath, turning the vacuum back on and rolling it over to get behind the chair. It was so unlike him to miss a spot. Was he losing his touch?
When he finished he turned the vacuum off again and put it away in the hall closet before taking his spot next to Brendon on the couch. He reached for the remote, but Brendon grabbed it first.
"Nuh uh, you didn't do it right the first time. I get to watch whatever the hell I want."
Spencer would have been mad if he wasn't so shocked. Brendon was… punishing him for not doing something right? Absurd, but in a way, it was strangely satisfying, more so than beating himself up about it, at least.
"Can I have some potato chips, then?" Spencer asked, wondering how far Brendon would take this.
Brendon considered for a moment. "Ask me correctly and I'll think about it."
Spencer was so surprised, he momentarily forgot to reply. Brendon had never been a stickler for correct grammar - far from it, really - and the last time he'd been told to ask for something correctly was by his mother.
"May I have some potato chips, Brendon?"
"Mmm, no, I don't think so. You need to think about why you screwed up and how you're not going to let it happen again."
Spencer sat back against the couch, letting the subject drop. He'd never been punished for doing something wrong. Even his mother would just tell him it was okay and she would fix it.
Spencer vowed to do better next time. Spencer was going to make Brendon proud.
***
"So, I'm doing that interview tomorrow, right?" Brendon said over dinner, stabbing at a pasta shell with his fork. "I was thinking of wearing my red and blue plaid shirt."
Brendon didn't have to say anymore. Spencer knew that shirt was missing a button - he'd been there when Brendon accidentally tore it off - and he knew Brendon was expecting it to be ready to wear the next morning.
"With your brown cardigan? I think you'll have the fans drooling for you," Spencer added in a deadpan, but he knew Brendon was into cardigans lately, and his brown one would work the best with that shirt.
Brendon nodded with a laugh. "They usually do anyway."
After dinner, Spencer found the shirt, sewed a button into the empty space, and threw it and Brendon's cardigan in the wash. Once they dried, Spencer hung them up on the door to Brendon's room, ready to wear.
It wasn't exactly weird, this relationship Spencer and Brendon had forged, but it definitely wasn't your average friendship. If there was something Brendon wanted, he expected Spencer to do it with very little forewarning. Spencer, of course, was more than happy to oblige, willing to go out in the middle of the night to buy supplies for the next morning's breakfast if he had to. Brendon never called Spencer his maid, and Spencer never called Brendon his master; they simply had an unspoken agreement that this was how it was, and it worked.
Social norms be damned.
-----------------------------------------
A/N: More of my work here.