100 Steps: Alcohol
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[4] 1 tequila, 2 tequila… - early december
Spencer slings back the last of his drink. Midterms are done, thank God. His scores were damn near perfect, something he hopes will satisfy his stepfather. It's doubtful, Spencer knows. Hopefulness is a fruitless endeavor when it comes to Marcus.
Wetness hits his hand, interrupting his thoughts, and he looks up to see Butcher give him an apologetic sorry, dude look. The place is packed to the nines; every other student celebrating the end of another semester. Spencer just nods his thanks, tossing a twenty on the bar and grabbing the three glasses in front of him. No one had even blinked at his fake I.D. when they'd walked through the door, but then no one ever does.
Slipping through the crowd, he heads toward the back where Jon and Brendon are sitting. The two of them are sitting close, practically in each other's laps, with their foreheads together. The back and forth conversation looks intense. Shaking his head, Spencer steps sideways to avoid some douche that's not looking where he's going and moves closer.
His roommates are an odd couple. He'd have sworn Jon was straight, but he's seen the rampant cuddling, the ridiculous flirting. Brendon is obviously smitten.
Spencer kind of wants to slap himself for using that word, even in his head. Ryan would be so proud.
God, he misses Ryan.
He thunks the glasses down and they both look up at him. Jon's eyes have an evil gleam in them, and Brendon's are wide and happy. He's not ready to trust them yet-Ryan's the only one, really, that he does trust completely-but, surprisingly, he finds that he wants to.
~
Currently Spencer's got his arm around Brendon, fingers curling tight in a belt loop as they stumble up the stairs. Jon's passed out on the couch. He'd flopped down immediately, mumbling no stairs, nononono, and been out in less than a minute.
"I think Jon had the right idea, Spence. Spennnnnnnncerrrr." His name slurs on Brendon's lips, and the sound nearly makes Spencer giggle. He refrains, concentrating on trying to get Brendon to pick up his feet so they can make it to the second floor landing.
"Spencer. Spencersmith. Smiiiiiiiiiith. Spencerrrrrr."
"Jesus, Brendon, what?" Spencer's enunciation isn't much better off. He does, however, manage to get them up another couple of steps. Brendon sways a little and Spencer tightens his grip. Perhaps he shouldn't have had those last two-three?-tequila shots. He focuses on not sending the both of them backwards down the stairs. His stepfather would be so disappointed if Spencer went and broke his neck seeing as how that wasn't in Marcus' plan. For a split second he considers letting go, but Brendon tucks his face into Spencer's neck, breathing deeply, and Spencer pushes the thought away. They make it to the landing.
"No frowning, Spencersmith. No frowning on Bonding Night." A finger pokes him in the cheek and without thinking, Spencer bites at it.
"Hey!" Brendon jerks in surprise and they both stumble. Still a little too close to the stairs for Spencer's comfort, he tugs Brendon forward. Unfortunately, all the alcohol in his system makes him pull too hard. Brendon hits the wall and Spencer's shoulder lands somewhere in the vicinity of his collarbone. "Ow."
"Baby," Spencer mutters. All their limbs seemed to be mixed up and Spencer's brain provides a visual of BrendonSpencer monster with two legs and-
Spencer shakes his head. No more tequila. Ever.
Seriously, though, it's like they've grown six million pairs of legs and Brendon won't stop wiggling. Spencer struggles to untangle himself. "Jesus, Urie, your legs-stay still-Dammit, Brendon."
By the time he's standing upright of his own volition again, wobbly though it is, they're chest to chest, his hands on Brendon's hips. He can feel Brendon's body vibrating with energy, even three sheets to the wind. "Geez, Bren."
"What?" His breath is warm on Spencer's chin.
He can barely see Brendon's eyes in the dim hallway, but he doesn't really need to. Spencer knows what they look like, warm and brown. He can imagine how they'd look when-
"Spencer?"
Startled, Spencer jerks. Fucking tequila. He steps back, letting go of Brendon.
"Hey, you called me-" That's as far as it gets before, "Oh-urk. Don't feel. Gonna-" Brendon slides clumsily around Spencer, moving quickly into the bathroom. There's the sound of retching and Spencer makes a face. The whole thing, exhaustion, too much tequila, it's all hitting him. He slumps against the wall, sliding down it a moment later. It's getting really hard to focus, so he closes his eyes.
A few minutes later-ten? twenty?-Brendon stumbles back out into the hallway.
"Oh." He looks confused. Adorable, Spencer's traitorous mind supplies. Brendon looks down at him. "What are you doing down there?"
Spencer thinks really hard and then finally manages, truthfully, to answer, "Dunno."
Nodding in complete understanding, Brendon manages to make it to the floor beside Spencer without any great harm. Well, the top button on Spencer's shirt is a casualty of a hand holding too tightly as Brendon sinks down, but it's not like he doesn't have twenty more of the damn things. Brendon becomes a line of warmth against Spencer's side. It's nice.
Leaning over, Brendon puts his head on Spencer's shoulder and that's nice too. Man, he misses Ryan.
"Your breath smells like puke, Bren."
Hair tickles Spencer's chin as Brendon nods. "Yeah, I know."
Brendon mumbles something that Spencer doesn't quite catch and after a minute, his stinky breath evens out. Not too long after, Spencer falls asleep too.
[5] would rather be - christmas
[4] 1 tequila, 2 tequila… - early december
Spencer slings back the last of his drink. Midterms are done, thank God. His scores were damn near perfect, something he hopes will satisfy his stepfather. It's doubtful, Spencer knows. Hopefulness is a fruitless endeavor when it comes to Marcus.
Wetness hits his hand, interrupting his thoughts, and he looks up to see Butcher give him an apologetic sorry, dude look. The place is packed to the nines; every other student celebrating the end of another semester. Spencer just nods his thanks, tossing a twenty on the bar and grabbing the three glasses in front of him. No one had even blinked at his fake I.D. when they'd walked through the door, but then no one ever does.
Slipping through the crowd, he heads toward the back where Jon and Brendon are sitting. The two of them are sitting close, practically in each other's laps, with their foreheads together. The back and forth conversation looks intense. Shaking his head, Spencer steps sideways to avoid some douche that's not looking where he's going and moves closer.
His roommates are an odd couple. He'd have sworn Jon was straight, but he's seen the rampant cuddling, the ridiculous flirting. Brendon is obviously smitten.
Spencer kind of wants to slap himself for using that word, even in his head. Ryan would be so proud.
God, he misses Ryan.
He thunks the glasses down and they both look up at him. Jon's eyes have an evil gleam in them, and Brendon's are wide and happy. He's not ready to trust them yet-Ryan's the only one, really, that he does trust completely-but, surprisingly, he finds that he wants to.
~
Currently Spencer's got his arm around Brendon, fingers curling tight in a belt loop as they stumble up the stairs. Jon's passed out on the couch. He'd flopped down immediately, mumbling no stairs, nononono, and been out in less than a minute.
"I think Jon had the right idea, Spence. Spennnnnnnncerrrr." His name slurs on Brendon's lips, and the sound nearly makes Spencer giggle. He refrains, concentrating on trying to get Brendon to pick up his feet so they can make it to the second floor landing.
"Spencer. Spencersmith. Smiiiiiiiiiith. Spencerrrrrr."
"Jesus, Brendon, what?" Spencer's enunciation isn't much better off. He does, however, manage to get them up another couple of steps. Brendon sways a little and Spencer tightens his grip. Perhaps he shouldn't have had those last two-three?-tequila shots. He focuses on not sending the both of them backwards down the stairs. His stepfather would be so disappointed if Spencer went and broke his neck seeing as how that wasn't in Marcus' plan. For a split second he considers letting go, but Brendon tucks his face into Spencer's neck, breathing deeply, and Spencer pushes the thought away. They make it to the landing.
"No frowning, Spencersmith. No frowning on Bonding Night." A finger pokes him in the cheek and without thinking, Spencer bites at it.
"Hey!" Brendon jerks in surprise and they both stumble. Still a little too close to the stairs for Spencer's comfort, he tugs Brendon forward. Unfortunately, all the alcohol in his system makes him pull too hard. Brendon hits the wall and Spencer's shoulder lands somewhere in the vicinity of his collarbone. "Ow."
"Baby," Spencer mutters. All their limbs seemed to be mixed up and Spencer's brain provides a visual of BrendonSpencer monster with two legs and-
Spencer shakes his head. No more tequila. Ever.
Seriously, though, it's like they've grown six million pairs of legs and Brendon won't stop wiggling. Spencer struggles to untangle himself. "Jesus, Urie, your legs-stay still-Dammit, Brendon."
By the time he's standing upright of his own volition again, wobbly though it is, they're chest to chest, his hands on Brendon's hips. He can feel Brendon's body vibrating with energy, even three sheets to the wind. "Geez, Bren."
"What?" His breath is warm on Spencer's chin.
He can barely see Brendon's eyes in the dim hallway, but he doesn't really need to. Spencer knows what they look like, warm and brown. He can imagine how they'd look when-
"Spencer?"
Startled, Spencer jerks. Fucking tequila. He steps back, letting go of Brendon.
"Hey, you called me-" That's as far as it gets before, "Oh-urk. Don't feel. Gonna-" Brendon slides clumsily around Spencer, moving quickly into the bathroom. There's the sound of retching and Spencer makes a face. The whole thing, exhaustion, too much tequila, it's all hitting him. He slumps against the wall, sliding down it a moment later. It's getting really hard to focus, so he closes his eyes.
A few minutes later-ten? twenty?-Brendon stumbles back out into the hallway.
"Oh." He looks confused. Adorable, Spencer's traitorous mind supplies. Brendon looks down at him. "What are you doing down there?"
Spencer thinks really hard and then finally manages, truthfully, to answer, "Dunno."
Nodding in complete understanding, Brendon manages to make it to the floor beside Spencer without any great harm. Well, the top button on Spencer's shirt is a casualty of a hand holding too tightly as Brendon sinks down, but it's not like he doesn't have twenty more of the damn things. Brendon becomes a line of warmth against Spencer's side. It's nice.
Leaning over, Brendon puts his head on Spencer's shoulder and that's nice too. Man, he misses Ryan.
"Your breath smells like puke, Bren."
Hair tickles Spencer's chin as Brendon nods. "Yeah, I know."
Brendon mumbles something that Spencer doesn't quite catch and after a minute, his stinky breath evens out. Not too long after, Spencer falls asleep too.
[5] would rather be - christmas