Saturation Part 3/5

[moku_youbi]

Part
Jon had thought he’d die waiting for Tuesday night. He woke late Sunday morning and dragged himself into the office. No one came in on Sundays. Sometimes he or the others went out for shoots, but it was at their discretion. He managed to get a few things done, but when his phone buzzed at three, Jon welcomed the distraction.

couldn’t wait til tues, Spencer wrote. come suffer w/me thru rys pretentous french cinema?

be there in twenty, Jon wrote back, without even really thinking about it.

He was still tired from the previous night, but Spencer and Ryan didn’t look much better off. The two of them curled up on the couch, and though they left room for Jon, he didn’t feel right taking it. He sat in the armchair instead, and totally imagined the disappointed look on Ryan’s face.

Spencer was right-Ryan had, like, incredibly pretentious taste in movies, while Spencer was into more of the same stuff as Jon-action and humour. They had a nice collection of films and made a pile of the ones Jon hadn’t seen for them to work through. It was tall enough, Jon noted, that even if they got together every Sunday, it was going to be months before they worked through them all.

They ordered Chinese and Jon showed them his expertise at mixing drinks, delighted to find they’d been hiding a wet bar in the kitchen. He dozed off sometime during the strange, Spanish language zombie movie and when he woke the room was all dark. A figure was moving around and he sat up, but Spencer moved to him and pushed a hand against his chest.

“You should stay,” Spencer whispered. “It’s late, and you’re wasted.”

“I don’t want to-” Jon said, feeling something like panic unfurling in his chest and he didn’t even understand why.

Spencer’s fingers brushed against his mouth. “It’s late. Don’t be stupid, Jon Walker. I already hid your keys.”

Jon let out a puff of air, couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or happy. “Spence.”

“Jon,” Spencer said back. “I brought down a pillow and a blanket. You’ll be more comfortable on the couch, though.”

Jon could argue, but he didn’t have anywhere to go but the backseat of his car, and he really was fucking wasted. “I don’t want to impose.”

Spencer laughed softly. “You really, really aren’t,” he whispered. “But if it’ll make you feel better, you can make us breakfast in the morning.”

Jon had to smile. He couldn’t help it. “Deal,” he said.

It was supposed to be awkward in the morning, Jon thought. He hardly knew Spencer and Ryan, and he’d felt like an intruder, sleeping on their couch, but it had been the best sleep he’d had since he’d arrived in Vegas.

He had a moment to feel uncomfortable when he first woke, the condo still and silent all around him. Then a door opened upstairs and Boba and Hobo came bounding down the stairs, honing in on Jon like radar and painting his face with kisses.

Ryan came down after them, smiling sleepily at Jon. “We were worried you’d take off before we woke up,” he said.

Jon relaxed, his chest loosening. “Well, Spence hid my keys.”

Ryan let the dogs out back and shared a cigarette with Jon on the porch while they waited on the coffee. When they got back inside, Spencer was already at the stove making omelettes.

“I thought that was my job,” Jon protested.

“It’s already 9:30,” Spencer said in a reasonable tone of voice. “The studio opens at ten, right? You should go shower.”

Jon couldn’t argue with that tone. Ryan gave him towels and took a fresh shirt from his and Spencer’s closet for Jon. “Don’t think I’d fit in your pants?” Jon teased, and didn’t realise how bad that sounded until it was already out of his mouth.

Ryan worked his tongue across his lower lip and said, voice low, “It might be a tight fit.”

Jon hurried to shower and told himself he wasn’t going to jerk off in Ryan and Spencer’s shower because that was wrong. But he closed his eyes and saw them against his lids, touching one another, giving him those looks, and he couldn’t help it.

When he came downstairs, he was sure they could tell, somehow. He wanted to just get out as fast as he could, but Spencer had made breakfast for him and Jon wasn’t going to be rude after how nice they’d been to him. He hurried through it, barely tasting anything but the burn of the coffee on his tongue. Spencer and Ryan kept exchanging meaningful looks across the table, and it was making Jon really uneasy.

“See you tomorrow night,” Spencer said, when he walked him out, producing Jon’s keys from his pocket. He tossed them over for Jon to catch.

Jon couldn’t figure it out, how they could make him simultaneously so comfortable and so uncomfortable, but it didn’t really matter. He knew he was going to keep coming back for more. “Tomorrow night,” he agreed.

After that, Tuesday really did take forever to come. Jon spent most of the time working, but even so, time seemed to crawl. Spencer texted him regularly to brag about how badly Jon was going to crash and burn, and while Jon wasn’t really the competitive sort, he had fun baiting Spencer with irreverent arguments like how no one who wore so much pink could hope to beat a real man at video games.

Tuesday afternoon Ryan texted to ask what sort of pizza Jon wanted and Jon wrote back dude, i'm from chicago that shit your ordering isn’t real pizza anyway. Ryan sent him back an emoticon rolling its eyes and said fine but when i order something crazy you’re totally eating it. And a few minutes later Spencer wrote to say, byob unless u wanna drink that shit ry calls beer…bring enough for me 2.

Jon wrote back your just using me 4 my id, and Spencer didn’t respond for a really long time, probably trying to think up an appropriately bitchy comment. Finally, all he got back was it’s you’re, dumbass.

your dumbass, Jon wrote back, grinning, and a second later Spencer sent him a heart. Jon had to keep reminding himself that Spencer was just a nice person, and that this flirty playfulness didn’t mean the same thing to him that it did to Jon. It didn’t make Jon anticipate the texts any less.

When he knocked on the door someone shouted it was open. He was late; his last appointment had run over and he’d gone back to the studio to wash up and change before heading over. There was already a small crowd in the living room, and every surface was covered in pizza, junk food, soda and beer, a far cry from the neatness Jon had observed before.

“Jon!” Ryan said, tried to stand up from the couch and sank back again almost at once. He giggled tipsily. The girl beside him shook her head but didn’t spare him a glance, focussing on the screen and pressing buttons furiously. Something she did made the guy on the floor toss his controller away in disgust.

Spencer came into the room from the kitchen. “Did I hear Jon is here?” he asked, and grinned wide when he saw Jon. “Did you bring me real beer?”

Jon held up the Corona and Spencer let out a groan of pleasure. “Jon Walker, you love me so good.”

“Yeah,” Jon agreed easily. Spencer took and set aside the beer. He grabbed Jon’s wrist, dragging him into the room, in front of the television. The girl closest to Ryan made an annoyed sound and paused the game.

“Bitchy McBitch there, next to Ryan, is my sister Jackie,” Spencer said.

“Learned from the best,” Jackie said, flipping Spencer off. Spencer blew her a kiss.

Spencer pointed to the girl next to Jackie, who bore her a close resemblance. “And my other sister Crystal.” Crystal waved distractedly, trying to look around Spencer’s hips at the screen. “Brent,” Spencer went on, and the guy sitting sideways in the armchair nodded, “and Tyler.” The guy on the floor flashed Jon a quick smile. “And this is Jon.”

“Hey,” Jon said, smiling the smile that Bill told him was charming. Crystal and Jackie looked like they melted a little at least.

Crystal inched over a little. “You can sit here,” she said, patting the spot beside her.

Spencer made a small, amused sound. “He’s like, ten years too old for you,” Spencer said.

“Fuck you,” Crystal said, colouring.

“Yeah,” Jon muttered. He wasn’t that old. Not that he felt like scamming on Spencer’s little sister. “Fuck you, Spencer.”

Spencer gave him a sly little look and slunk off back to the kitchen. Ryan rolled his eyes at Jackie and Crystal and, despite their protests, pushed them down the sofa so that Jon could sit next to him. “Thanks,” Jon murmured.

Ryan gave him that look he had, from under his lashes, that made him look sleepy and sexy. “You might have been safer with them,” he commented lightly, and took a swig from his bottle.

Spencer came back with an open corona for him and one for Jon and kicked Jackie on the floor so there was room on the couch. Ryan immediately scooted down and dragged Jon with him so that Spencer had to sit on Jon’s other side.

“Glad you came,” Ryan said, and laid his head on Jon’s shoulder. Jon froze, glancing at Spencer out of the corner of his eye, but Spencer just smiled and laid his head on Jon’s other shoulder.

Jon told himself it wasn’t anything unusual. Being on the road with The Academy Is…, Cobra Starship, and Gym Class Heroes had taught Jon that boys cuddling was normal, straight, and totally acceptable between friends. Ryan and Spencer seemed to be fairly tactile. That was all. Only Jon was definitely not taking it in a straight friends sort of way. He really was the worst sort of stalkerish pervert ever.

After Crystal, Jackie and Tyler finished their game, Spencer, Brent, Jon and Tyler had a Smash Bros. marathon, and when Jon’s thumbs were sore, he passed the controller off to Jackie. Ryan immediately cuddled closer to Jon’s side and Jon gave in to what he wanted, anyway, and put his arm around Ryan’s shoulder.

Ryan plastered himself to Jon’s side, cheek resting above Jon’s heart. “You’re so warm, and you smell like winter,” Ryan murmured.

Jackie laughed, poking Ryan’s thigh with her toe. “You’re wasted.”

“Maybe,” Ryan agreed amiably.

“Maybe,” Spencer agreed, passing his controller to Crystal. He nudged at Jon’s arm until Jon pulled him close, too. “But he’s right.” He reached for Ryan’s hand, lacing their fingers together over Jon’s stomach.

Brent snorted. “You’ve never even been anywhere there’s a winter,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ryan said, rubbing his face against Jon’s shirt. Jon struggled to keep his heartbeat under control, but Ryan had to hear it racing.

“I should probably be going,” Jon said, delicately trying to untangle himself from them.

Ryan made a sound of disapproval and his fingers tightened around Spencer’s, holding Jon in place. “Game night, Jon,” Spencer protested. He titled his head to look up at Jon, silky hair falling in a mess of tangles, blue eyes bright and wide, mouth just slightly parted, like it wanted to be kissed.

“Yeah,” Jon agreed, and was proud how even his voice came out. “But I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Gotta go pay the rent.” Or he would, eventually.

Jon ended up in the same parking lot near to their house as before. He wasn’t really drunk, but this part of town was safer, and security at his newest place had to be recognising his car by now. He parked at the far end, away from the doors of the all night Vons, under a light, curled up under his blanket, and fell asleep missing the press of Ryan and Spencer against his sides.

No more than an hour or two could have passed before he was woken up by someone knocking on the back window. There was a dark figure backlit, the light spilling around almost blinding. A cop, or security, maybe. It wasn’t the first time he’d been told to move on. At least he hadn’t gotten any tickets, or shit.

Jon sat up, feeling slow and groggy and muffled a yawn with his hand. “Sorry officer,” he mumbled, cranking the manual window. “I’m going right now.”

“Yeah,” said a familiar voice and Jon blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “You are,” Ryan said. “To my place. God, you are so stupid.” He had a twenty-four pack under one arm and a handful of bags hanging from the wrist of the other.

“Ryan?” Jon asked. “Shit. I thought. Look, it isn’t a big deal. I got tired on the way home and I didn’t want to fall asleep at the wheel.”

Ryan’s mouth was a tight, angry line. “Right,” he said. “And you just happen to keep a pillow, blanket, and all the fucking clothes you own in a bunch of plastic bags in your car.”

“Ryan,” Jon said.

“You’re coming home with me,” Ryan said. He set down the beer and reached through the window to unlock the front door, tossing his bags in the passenger seat. “Spence and I can come back in the morning for my car.”

“Ryan,” Jon tried.

“I don’t trust you to follow on your own,” Ryan said. He climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door unnecessarily hard. “Give me your keys.” He didn’t look at Jon, staring straight ahead through the windshield, holding out his palm.

There was a coldness in Ryan’s voice that had never been there before, even when they’d first met. “Ryan, I didn’t think…what was I supposed to say?”

“Give me your keys, Jon,” Ryan said, shaking his palm. His voice sounded softer, though. Jon fished his keys out of his pocket and laid them in Ryan’s hand.

They made the drive in silence and when they came in the front door, everyone was still there. The room at large gave Jon a strange look. Ryan threw the beer and bags down near the couch and jerked his head at Spencer. “Upstairs,” he said, and Spencer got up at once. Ryan gave Jon a blank look. “You, too.”

Jon had never been in their bedroom before. He’d purposely made himself not think about it, because that led to bad places and they were his friends. The bed was fairly small, but given how much the two of them liked to touch, maybe they liked being forced to cuddle close together.

There was a vanity covered in makeup and two dressers, both scattered with random knickknacks and contents of emptied pockets-tickets, receipts, change. In the bottom corner of the vanity’s mirror there was a note in Spencer’s handwriting that said No doubts. Just I love you.

Jon had never heard them say those words to one another, even though it was obvious that was how they felt. But seeing them in Spencer’s hand, a message that meant more to the two of them than he would ever understand, made Jon feel sick to his stomach. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten under his skin so quickly, and he didn’t know how to get them out.

“What’s up?” Spencer asked, looking between Ryan and Jon. His face was calm, but Jon could see the apprehension in the set of his shoulders.

“Do you want to tell him?” Ryan asked Jon.

Jon spread his hands helplessly. “Look, Ryan, you’re making a way bigger deal out of this than you need to.”

Ryan’s eyes got wide and his jaw tensed. “Okay, Jon,” he said at last, through clenched teeth. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Spencer and crossed his legs. “Explain how it isn’t a big deal.”

“I-” Jon was a loss. It wasn’t a big deal, though he could see how someone else might think so. But he wasn’t starving or anything, and it wasn’t like he was going to be living in his car forever. He had a job and a plan.

“I just came out here, you know,” he said slowly. “And I was supposed to buy the business with another guy. I was going to stay with him, but he ended up bailing on me, and the loan was in my name, and I wanted to do this anyway. It’s just…It’s just for a little while, you know,” he said, eyes on Ryan’s, willing him to understand.

“What is?” Spencer asked slowly, voice taking on the same chilly tone as Ryan’s. “Jon?”

“I’ve been working extra jobs, setting aside some money. I should be able to get an apartment in another couple months,” Jon said.

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “Where are you staying now?”

“In his car!” Ryan snapped. “In his mother fucking car, Spencer. Jesus.” He stood up, running his hands through his hair. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because it wasn’t a big deal!” Jon snapped back. He’d made his own choices and he didn’t regret them and Ryan didn’t get to get so worked up about this. “We barely know each other! I had to sign a privacy agreement before I could even come to your house. We’ve hung out a couple times.”

Ryan took a step back, face closing off and Spencer’s face fell. “No,” Jon said quickly. “Shit.” He shook his head. “Look, I didn’t. I didn’t mean it like…”

“Whatever,” Spencer said. He stood too, hands on his hips. “It’s late. You’re staying here, obviously. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“Guys,” Jon said.

“Shut up,” Ryan said, furious, and stormed out of the room.

Spencer’s lips twisted in a scowl and he glared at Jon and he was beautiful, even like that. “Our friendship might not mean a lot to you, Jon, but you mean a lot to us. So you’re staying here tonight. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

Crystal and Jackie were sleeping over on the couch, but Brent and Tyler made their excuses a short while later and headed out. Spencer dug an air mattress out of the closet under the stairs and set it up in the study for Jon. Ryan didn’t say anything while he dressed the bed, Jon standing awkwardly in the doorway.

He couldn’t sleep. It was warm and quiet and dark in the study, and smelled like books, which should have been comforting. But Jon kept playing what he’d said over and over in his mind, trying to figure out where it had come from. It usually took a lot get raise his temper. He’d lived on tour busses with some of the most self-absorbed assholes on the planet and had always remained calm, collected guy. And Ryan and Spencer hadn’t deserved his behaviour.

There was a light on in Spencer and Ryan’s bedroom, coming from under their door. Jon stood outside, fighting with himself, fist raised to knock. He heard soft voices from within and tapped lightly before he could stop himself.

“Come in,” Spencer called.

Jon pushed open the door, standing just inside. It was hard to look at them like this, Ryan shirtless, the two of them curled up facing each other, arms tossed over waists, hands on backs. Spencer’s hair fanned out over his pillow and Ryan was wrapping a strand around his finger.

They clearly hadn’t expected Jon because they jumped apart when they saw him, sitting up. Ryan dragged the sheets up higher, tucking them under his arms, hiding. “What is it?” he asked.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jon said. “I had to tell you I’m sorry.”

Spencer sighed and shook his head. “It’s alright. Just go to sleep.”

“No,” Jon said. He closed the door and crossed to the bed, sitting down on the edge. Ryan drew his legs higher, away from Jon. Jon reached out and caught one ankle through the sheet, holding gently. “Ryan. I didn’t mean it how it sounded.”

Ryan crossed his arms and titled his head back defiantly. “Look,” Jon said. “This whole thing, with my car. I haven’t told anyone, okay? Not my parents or any of my friends from home, or anyone at work. And I-it’s not like I’m embarrassed. It just isn’t that big of a deal. I knew buying a business was going to be hard, I was prepared for that. I’m not sick or starving or anything.”

“Jon,” Spencer said in a reasonable tone of voice, “you have to realise how crazy that sounds. Especially when you didn’t have to be doing it.”

“I hadn’t even met you guys when I started,” Jon said. He made himself remain calm, trying to find that centre that he’d used to have. He was beginning to think it had a lot more to do with all the beer and weed he’d been consuming once upon a time than with anything he possessed innately. “And what I said, earlier, about us…”

Ryan didn’t look impressed, and Spencer’s face was understanding but not particularly nice or welcoming. Jon stroked his thumb over Ryan’s ankle. “You guys are different from anyone I’ve been friends with before, and I mean that in the best way possible, really. Really,” he added vehemently, because outside of Tom, a lot of his friends tended to be spazzy flakes.

“I feel like there’s so much we don’t know about each other,” Jon said, “and I want to know. But you two are so private and I don’t know what’s allowed, okay?”

Spencer leaned forward to catch Jon’s hand, threading their fingers together. Spencer’s hand was a lot smaller than Jon’s, warmer, but strong, and Jon liked the way it fit in his. “Our friendship isn’t conditional, Jon,” Spencer said softly, and he sounded sad.

“I just,” Jon began and stopped. He felt greedy. He wanted to know everything about them. He wanted to know their friendship was unconditional because he knew it, not because of anything one of them had said. “I’ve had a lot of fun hanging out with you guys but I don’t really know you.”

Spencer shot Ryan a look and the two of them seemed to be communicating silently. Ryan uncrossed his arms and stretched them out, hands gesturing, like he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to say. Jon caught a glimpse of the ink on the inside of his wrist again, saw that it was on both wrists, that they were words, but he couldn’t read them. He was struck with the totally inappropriate urge to lick them.

“Most people,” Ryan said. He paused, staring at his hands like they held the answers to the universe. “Most people don’t want to get to know other people. Not really. Most people are looking for someone to share their interests and talk about themselves to, and have fun with.

“But they don’t like knowing what’s going on below the surface. They don’t like seeing the messy stuff. Jon, I’m a mess,” Ryan said, voice soft.

Jon let go of Ryan’s ankle to grab one of his hands. “I’m not most people, Ryan. I thought I told you. And I prefer a mess to neat and boring. I like messes.” I’m good at cleaning them up he didn’t say, but he squeezed both their hands tighter.

Ryan opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it again, pouting. “Will you stay here, Jon?” he asked. “Until you have a real place to live?”

It still felt strange, but if it was what he had to do to keep their friendship, he would do it. He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I want to.” And it was true, no matter how awkward things got.

Spencer’s lips turned up a little at the corners. “You know,” he said slowly, “Ryan was way worse when my mom first invited him to stay with us. I mean, more than just staying the night. When she said he could stay as long as he wanted.”

Ryan made a noise like he wanted to protest, trying to pull his hand out of Jon’s. But Jon smiled and smoothed his thumb along the skin between Ryan’s index finger and thumb and Ryan stilled. “Yeah?” Jon asked.

“He had trouble believing that people would just do something nice and not expect anything in return,” Spencer whispered.

Jon looked at Ryan. “Yeah?” he asked again. Ryan’s early poetry especially was a story of loss and confusion and hatred and loneliness and just hurt. There were assumptions Jon could make, conclusions he could draw, but he’d rather hear the words from Ryan’s lips, not in words carefully coded for public consumption.

Ryan let out a shaky breath, shoulders loosening. “People take what they want,” he whispered. “And they’ll lie to get it, steal, do whatever they have to so they can get it.”

“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” Jon said. “I didn’t mean to do it, but I realise I did, and I’m sorry.”

Ryan’s fingers tightened and loosened again quickly, like an involuntary spasm. “We weren’t really being fair, either,” Spencer said. “We don’t have a lot of friends, and those are all people we’ve known forever. I guess we don’t really know how to do this start from scratch thing…”

And Jon had known, known how special it was that they were letting him in, letting him close. He’d known they were private and insular, but hearing Spencer say as much brought it home, just what it meant to him and to Ryan to even try.

Game nights in Chicago were impromptu, not planned, and there were always dozens of people cramming into an apartment or on a bus, old friends, new ones, casual acquaintances…Game night here was Spencer’s family and two guys they’d probably known since middle school, and Jon.

“Usually I’m a lot better at it,” Jon confided. “But usually I don’t think I care so much.”

Spencer’s face lit up in one of his blinding smiles, happy and effusive. Ryan’s smile was more sedate, chin tucked to his chest to hide it, but no less pleased. It made Jon brave, and he began to talk.

He told them about skipping out on school to travel with his friends, and admitted things to Spencer and Ryan that he’d never even told, about how he’d got bitter sometimes, how hard it was to watch the band get big while all of Jon’s dreams were on hold. He told them about Cassie, and how he’d once thought they would be forever, and when he’d realised they were over. He told them about how he missed having a cat and playing music and getting high.

When he felt like he’d said too much, talked too long, Ryan started speaking. He began watching Jon’s hand in his, like it was the most fascinating thing in the world, as he spoke of his mother leaving and his father’s drinking. But his voice got stronger and eventually he met Jon’s eyes with his own, talking about meeting Spencer, and all the poor ways he’d dealt with abuse, and when he’d realised that Spencer was his best friend but also so much more.

Jon didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up he was slumped over sideways on the bed, feet hanging off the edge, head pillowed on Spencer’s hip. Ryan’s long fingers were twined in Jon’s hair, and it should have been weird or uncomfortable. He listened to Ryan’s steady, deep breath, and heard Spencer’s heart beating where their skin touched, and it was alright. He burrowed closer and Ryan made a sleepy sound, patting vaguely at Jon’s face, and Jon fell back asleep.

They fell into an easy routine right from the start that dispelled Jon’s worries so quickly he barely remembered having them in the first place. Spencer and Ryan usually woke before Jon and were already showered by the time Jon got up. He showered while Ryan took care of the dogs and Spencer made breakfast. Spencer liked to cook and was good at, so Jon didn’t argue though it made him feel a little spoiled.

Spencer was off school for the summer and spent his afternoons at special certification classes so he could become a croupier in the autumn. Ryan was always writing, but he moved around a lot doing it-going to parks or bars or restaurants. However, they were both there when Jon got home in the evenings, and they’d pile onto the couch together to work through some more of their movies over dinner, or just talk until it was way too late and Jon knew he’d be dead the next morning, but didn’t care.

Sunday was the first day off Jon had after moving in with them. He had more energy these days, no doubt something to do with sleeping on a real bed in a real home. Even if the air mattress wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, it beat his pos car. He slept in Sunday, took a long shower and came downstairs to find Spencer and Ryan waiting expectantly.

“We’re going out,” Ryan said, all business. “Get your camera. Hurry up.”

Jon arched a brow. “Where are we going?” he asked.

Spencer shook a picnic basket at him and said, “It’s a surprise. Don’t ask any more questions. I already talked Ryan out of the blindfold.” Ryan gave a toothy little smirk at that and Jon couldn’t help but smile back.

They piled into Spencer’s hybrid SUV “because it’s Green, Ryan, and you don’t know how to drive your stupid Mercedes anyway.” It was true. More often than not, Jon observed Ryan stealing Spencer’s keys off the hook. Spencer didn’t usually mind because he did know how to drive Ryan’s car, so it all worked out in the end.

Spencer took them down 95 for a few minutes, but then he turned onto 147, which Jon had never seen before. He sat back in his seat and watched the scenery as it passed, low-slung houses giving way to brush and then the endless stretch of desert. The road began sloping up, heading in the distance toward some truly awesome mountains full of crags and crannies visible in the sharp shadow cast by the sun.

They turned off again before they got too far up the incline and then Jon saw their reason for coming, stretched out forever, the sun nearly blinding on the surface of the lake. The water looked a stunning blue framed by the red of the mountains.

“You said you hadn’t really gotten a chance to get out and explore,” Spencer explained, grin wide in the review mirror. “Ryan wanted to make a trek to the Canyon, but that’s more of an all-weekend trip.”

There was suggestion in Spencer’s voice, and Jon answered it. “I might be able to manage a free Saturday in a couple weeks,” he said.

Ryan set off to rent them a boat, and Jon took the opportunity to wander along the shore, camera in hand. Spencer trailed along with him, taking off his shoes so he could walk in the water. The sun was behind him, and the wind from the water caught in his hair and Jon took the picture without really thinking about it. Spencer laughed at him, and Jon had to take another.

“I’m not the photogenic one,” Spencer said.

“I really, really beg to differ,” Jon said, bumping their shoulders together. Spencer bumped back affectionately, biting his lip against a smile. “Is it…is it okay?”

Spencer frowned. “Is what…? Taking my picture? I don’t know why you’d want to,” he said, laugh somewhat derisive, “but knock yourself out.”

Ryan called for them and Spencer shook his head. “He probably got something that needs a crew of ten to pilot it,” he said. His expression was fondly annoyed. Jon took a picture of that, too. “Seriously?” Spencer asked, smiling like he couldn’t help it.

“Hey. I’m a professional,” Jon said sternly. “I know what I’m doing.”

Ryan’s boat turned out to be a sail boat, and luckily Jon had enough experience with those to get them out of the dock and into open water without much difficulty. Spencer claimed the hammock strung across the deck, pulling out a book. Ryan laid out a towel and shimmied out of his clothes until he was left in his boxers, entirely unconcerned that the sight was not one for which Jon was prepared.

Jon made himself look away at the scenery outside of the boat, focussing on the interesting formations of the rocks. The area of the lake Spencer had chosen started wide but narrowed fairly quickly, and Jon led them through that pass, getting some interesting shots.

Before long, though, his viewfinder was drawn back inside the boat-the look of concentration on Spencer’s face, the way his fingers gripped his book, the long, elegant twist of his body in the hammock, curves on nice display. And Ryan, laid out like a wet dream, small of his back slightly arched, drawing the muscles of his stomach tight, pulling tan skin thin over delicate bones.

There was a mark on his collarbone, purple and pink, in the rough shape of Spencer’s mouth, and just peeking out from the waist of his boxers, there was the shadow of a bruise in the shape of a finger.

Ryan pushed up on his elbows and flicked up his sunglasses to pin Jon with a look. “We brought you out here to appreciate the view,” he said, and sounded amused, though his expression gave away nothing.

“I am,” Jon leered, and took another shot.

“You going to send those shots to my editor?” Ryan asked.

“I thought I’d keep these ones for myself,” Jon said. It was a question, no matter how lightly he tried to play it off.

Ryan just made a huffy sound and laid back down, letting his glasses drop back into place. Jon caught a hint of ink with the motion. “Let me see your tattoos,” he said. Ryan’s lips twisted in a lazy smirk. He raised his arms over his head, crossing them at the wrist, one slightly lower than the other so that both tattoos were left visible. Jon didn’t think of pinning those wrists in place, of lowering himself over Ryan’s body, of feeling Spencer along his back.

Jon glanced at Spencer guiltily, and Spencer was watching them, book forgotten at his side. His eyes were narrowed against the sunlight and unreadable. Jon had never known this feeling, this overwhelming desire for two people simultaneously. He’d had his share of lovers, and even when he’d been with Cassie he’d been able to recognise an attractive person. But it had never been as strong as desire. He’d never wanted to act on it.

He cleared his throat. “I know those lyrics,” he said, instead of doing all the things he wanted to do. He thought of the rest of the lyrics to the song and wondered what Ryan had thought, putting these words on himself. If he thought he was depreciated in value because of them.

“Yeah?” Ryan asked. “Most people don’t.”

Jon snapped a few pictures, liking the shadow Ryan’s right arm cast over the left, the dip of his palm, the wind-tossed fall of curls across his forehead. “How many times do I have to tell you, Ross. I’m not most people.”

Ryan smiled. “I’m getting that,” he murmured.

“Jon,” Spencer called imperiously. “Drop the anchor and come take a nap with me.”

“He slept half the morning away,” Ryan protested.

“I don’t care,” Spencer said. “I’m sleepy, and I want to cuddle, and you’re all bones.”

Ryan sputtered indignantly and Jon dropped anchor. The hammock was wide but swung precariously when Jon rolled into it. Spencer moved to lay himself half overtop of Jon, one leg tossed over both of Jon’s, hand and cheek on Jon’s chest. Jon got an arm around Spencer’s shoulder and put his other behind his head, staring up at the cloudless sky.

“Nap,” Spencer said, “and then you can appreciate my gourmet lunch.”

“If, by gourmet, you mean purchased at Subway, okay,” Ryan shot back snidely.

“I purchased your mom at Subway, if by purchased you mean banged hard,” Spencer grumbled sleepily.

Jon chuckled and tightened his arm a little, pulling Spencer close. He was getting used to how tactile they were, even after living with them less than a week. He’d taken to sitting with them on the sofa because it was more comfortable than the armchair, and they could be insistent. Spencer fit nicely against Jon’s side, and was soft and warm to touch.

He didn’t really sleep, but dozed a bit, and when he opened his eyes Ryan was sitting on one of the benches across from them, staring at them. “What’s up?” Jon asked, shifting sleepily. Spencer mumbled a protest and clutched his fingers in Jon’s shirt. Jon smiled down at him, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Spencer’s ear.

When he looked up again, Ryan was smiling sweetly. “I was feeling inspired,” he said, tapping pen to paper. Jon could see the page packed with words, but he couldn’t read them so far away.

“Show me?” Jon asked.

“Maybe,” Ryan said, closing the notebook. “Maybe later, when you show me your pictures.” He set aside the book and dropped to the deck on his knees, crawling over to them.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he whispered to Spencer, and maybe it was supposed to be teasing, but it sounded remarkably sincere. Ryan pressed his lips lightly against Spencer’s, cheek brushing Jon’s chest. Spencer hummed softly and Ryan deepened the kiss, and Jon had never seen this before.

Their kisses in front of him usually lasted a few seconds at best, closed lips to closed lips. But now Spencer parted his mouth under Ryan’s, and so close up to them, Jon could see their tongues meet, could hear the soft, wet sounds.

Jon had to move. He was going to embarrass them all if he didn’t. They were jostled apart when he sat up and Spencer made a noise of disapproval, reaching out for Ryan. “I’m hungry,” Ryan said, pouting.

“Fine, fine,” Spencer sighed, and when he rolled out of the hammock, Jon had to suppress the urge to sigh in relief.

After lunch Ryan put his clothes back on, thank god, and they headed back to the docks. Jon got some more shots, better than before with the different angle of the sun. He lagged behind them on the walk back to the car, looking at a few of the recent shots on his camera, and when he looked up they were walking close, arms around each other, hips touching every time they stepped. He realised he didn’t have any shots of the two of them together and adjusted the aperture, bringing them into focus.

“Hurry up,” Ryan called, “we’ll be late for the movie!”

“Movie?” Jon asked Spencer warily, when he drew closer to them.

“Don’t worry. I vetoed his choice. I got him to agree to Hot Fuzz because it’s at the dollar theatre. He doesn’t mind watching something he’s not sure about if it doesn’t cost very much. And he liked Shaun of the Dead,” Spencer said. He shrugged his shoulders. “He has some weird thing about zombies.”

“He can hear everything you’re saying,” Ryan said blandly. “And you like zombies, too.”

“Zombies rule,” Jon agreed. “Especially when they’re not Spanish.” Spencer chuckled and they both dodged Ryan’s half-hearted kicks.

Sometimes Jon took pictures around the house. He liked the way they looked best when they were casual and comfortable. He liked it when Spencer threw his hand in front of the camera but couldn’t hide the smile creeping across his face, or when Ryan hid under a pillow, fingers and eyes peeking out from behind.

He liked taking pictures in the early morning, smoke tracing hazy trails from Ryan’s cigarette on the back porch, Spencer at the stove, lip bit in concentration. They were both adorable with the dogs, especially Ryan who liked to dress them up and show them off.

But his favourite shots were the ones of the two of them together-napping together on the couch when Jon got home from work, Hobo and Boba tucked against them; Spencer’s back to Ryan’s chest playing video games while Ryan read, one arm tight and possessive over Spencer’s collar.

Maybe it was just that they’d become more comfortable with Jon, knowing him better, but Ryan’s smiles came brighter and more frequently and Spencer’s shoulders lost their perpetual strain. And for two people so private, they didn’t seem to have much reservation about what Jon took pictures of.

Though Ryan had professed his dislike of being photographed, and seemed so uncomfortable during their first photo shoot, he’d definitely gotten past that. He still didn’t really pose, but would tilt his head just so to show off his neck, or twist his spine. Spencer knew he had amazing hips and he knew how to work them, and he didn’t often smile for the camera, but when he did, it was dazzling.

Jon wasn’t really working any fewer hours at the studio, but it felt like it. Most Wednesdays he went out with Stephanie and her friends on campus. He’d invited Spencer and Ryan, but they were hesitant about it so he didn’t press the issue. Tuesdays were still game night, and way more comfortable than the first since Jon had dealt with his stupid issues.

Most nights, though, it was just the three of them, and Jon, for all that he’d been a social creature in Chicago, found he didn’t mind. They could go out on the town or stay in with a movie, or just play games and read all night and he felt at ease, even without booze or weed.

After a few days, Jon started moving his things from his car into the house, and when he brought in his bass, he was immediately dragged up to the study for an impromptu jam session that turned into an all-nighter, just going through Ryan’s old poetry and messing around with new arrangements. After that it became a regular thing, when Ryan wasn’t busy writing, for them to play around in the backyard.

Jon hadn’t doubted Ryan, when he’d said that he’d played guitar and Spencer played drums, but seeing and hearing it was something else. It wasn’t just that they’d dabbled with it, learned a few songs or something. Spencer fucking rocked on the drums and looked amazing doing it, hair flying, muscles in his arms flexing, moving his whole body in time to the beat. And Ryan sounded great whether playing a cover or just improvising something from scratch, long fingers sure and nimble on the strings. When he sang along, his voice wasn’t the strongest, but it was sweet and unique, quirky just like he was.

It occurred to Jon that no one had ever known Jon like these boys did. He hadn’t realised it when Ryan had said it, what seemed like so long ago, that no one ever really wanted to know each other, but it was true. Even in his own life, his relationships with his friends, with Cassie, and even Tom-he’d loved them, and known them, but they’d never made a whole lot of effort to dig deeper and know him, and Jon had never thought much of it. Maybe he hadn’t thought there was a deeper for him. Maybe he’d seen himself as this calm, uncomplicated person because that was what other people had seen him as.

That wasn’t how Spencer and Ryan treated him. They didn’t use him as a sounding board, or a problem solver. They talked about themselves, certainly, but they asked their own questions of Jon in return, and not just to be polite, but out of genuine curiosity. They asked him questions no one ever had before, about his opinion on things. They were things Jon had never realised he had opinions on, until Spencer or Ryan asked.

Two weeks after Jon moved in, he came home from work and was met at the door by Ryan and Spencer, grinning like Christmas had come early. Spencer shifted his arms, and tucked against his chest was a tiny ball of grey and white fluff. It mewled softly and turned its face to Jon, two bright green eyes fixing on him.

“Welcome home,” Ryan said, practically bubbling over with excitement. Spencer passed the kitten off to Jon.

“Guys,” Jon said, scratching the kitten between its ears. “Guys.” His smile was so big it made his face ache.

“It’s a boy, they said at the pet store,” Spencer said, reach out to rub its spine. Jon had forgotten what it felt like to have something so small and delicate in his arms, to feel it purring.

“What should we call him?” Ryan asked, bouncing on his toes. If buying pets made Ryan this happy, maybe they should start a menagerie.

“I have to think about it,” Jon said solemnly. “Names are important.”

He ended up settling on Dylan, and Ryan and Spencer expressed their approval by going out and buying an etched tag on a sparkly pink collar the next day.

“You’re making my cat gay,” Jon said, cuddling next to them on the sofa, Dylan purring contentedly in his lap.

“Our cat,” Spencer corrected, smiling sunnily at him. He threw his arm over Jon’s shoulder. “And he’s just taking after his daddies.”

“That’s right,” Ryan said, all sincerity. “We’re his daddies, Jon. You know what that means, right? Means you’re stuck with us now, Walker. We have to raise our baby together.”

The thing was, Jon didn’t even feel uncomfortable anymore, not at all. It was difficult being around them, knowing he couldn’t have them how he wanted, but it was worth it. He didn’t want to leave. “Oh damn,” he murmured, and smiled when Ryan laced their fingers together.

The weekend before the Forth of July, Jon managed to get some time free. Jake was happy to take any extra jobs because his daughter was going to a private school in the fall. He took Jon’s wedding on Saturday afternoon and his two Friday afternoon family portraits. Stephanie was a big fan of babies, so she jumped at the chance to do the studio work for the new parents Friday evening.

Jon had two senior photo shoots on Saturday, one in the morning and one in the evening, which were a little more difficult, but Stephanie had some friends in her class who were looking for some practical experience, and Jon was all about giving people a shot. Thursday being Rose’s usual day off, she volunteered to take his evening shoots off his hand so they could get an earlier start.

It didn’t cause him any real anxiety, taking the time off, as it might have a month ago. But he was making enough these days to take care of all his expenses, now that he didn’t have to worry about finding a place to live. He planned on paying Ryan and Spencer rent, but every time he mentioned it, Ryan scoffed.

Spencer took charge of making the plans, saying that if he left it up to Ryan they’d end up sleeping in a tent in Mexico, or something. The way he said it, Jon got the impression that the two of them had had some interesting road trips over the course of their friendship.

Thursday after his afternoon shoot, they picked him up at the studio, car already loaded up. Spencer’s family was taking care of the pets while they were gone, because no amount of pouting on Ryan’s part would move Spencer to letting the animals come along.

They took turns hooking their iPods to the car radio and Jon let Ryan paint his toenails a rainbow of colours. “Why do you even have nail polish?” Jon asked. He’d never seen Ryan or Spencer wearing any.

“The girls left it at our place a while ago. They wanted to practice their makeup skills on us,” Ryan said. “Spencer looked so pretty in lipstick.”

“Blow me,” Spencer said.

“Later,” Ryan said, tracing a hand down Spencer’s arm, and Jon felt a shiver down his spine like he was the one being touched.

They stopped an hour outside of the park for dinner at some greasy spoon. Jon was reminded of being on the road with The Academy. He found he preferred this, knowing there were no deadlines, no one expecting anything of them, that they could take their time.

Spencer and Jon played tic-tac-toe on the back of their placemats while Ryan composed a sonnet about condiments. They each ordered a different type of pie from the list of forty that the restaurant boasted, and fed each other bites off their forks.

It was past nine by the time they got to the cabin Spencer had rented. The place was small, kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom and loft. The view was amazing in the back, though, and there was a hot tub on the wrap around porch.

They settled into their rooms, the loft set up as an extra bedroom. Ryan poked his head up after a few minutes, changed into his swimming trunks. “There was a welcome basket in the kitchen,” he said. “Nuts, fruit, wine…we were gonna go out and test out the hot tub…”

Jon changed into his own trunks and when he went out back, Spencer and Ryan were already in the water, wine glasses in hand. There was another waiting for Jon on the rim of the tub.

“You two didn’t have to do all of this,” Jon said. He was still a little uncomfortable with the fact that Spencer was refusing to say how much the trip had cost and wouldn’t take any money Jon tried to offer.

“We know how to treat a lady,” Ryan teased, and someone’s toe nudged Jon’s ankle underwater.

Jon pulled his leg away. “I’m not that kind of lady,” he chastised.

“How many dates does it take?” Ryan asked. Spencer made a show of ticking of his fingers and held up eight. “It’s been more than eight,” Ryan scoffed. “Besides, you’re living with us now. I think that means you have to be that kind of lady.”

Jon shrugged and took a sip of his wine. “You are a tease, Jon Walker,” Spencer said.

The way they talked made Jon’s stomach flutter. Maybe it hurt to know that nothing would ever come of it, but Jon had decided that maybe it was sweeter this way, unresolved. “I love you two,” he said sincerely, not trying to hide it.

Ryan and Spencer separated from one another, sliding smoothly across the water to sit on either side of Jon. “We love you, too,” Ryan said, and pressed a kiss to the underside of Jon’s jaw.

“We do,” Spencer agreed, his kiss falling on Jon’s cheek, too close to his mouth.

Jon wanted to stay where he was, but his chest ached too much, knowing that the two of them meant something so different from what Jon meant. “The water’s making me sleepy,” he said. “I should get some rest for tomorrow.”

Spencer’s smile slipped a little and Ryan frowned. “I-well, goodnight,” Ryan said, bemused.

“Night,” Jon said, and kissed both their hair as he left.

At the condo, Jon had never heard them before. Maybe the walls were thicker there, or they were just quieter, but he’d never heard the sounds-Ryan’s soft whimpers, Spencer’s low pitched moans, the bed squeaking from their efforts. Jon couldn’t figure out which of them was the top in the relationship, or if they switched. He tried not to imagine it, but he could see their skin when he closed his eyes, sweat slick.

His hand was down his pants without thinking about, fisting around his cock, trying to keep pace with the sounds drifting up from below. He thumbed the head, spreading the slickness around, imagining it was Spencer’s strong grip. He spread his legs, reaching awkwardly between them with his other hand. He’d never tried it before, but the touch of his finger against his hole, pretending it was Ryan’s, was enough to make him come hard. In the haze, he imagined he heard his name, moaned in Ryan’s voice.

Part Four