Fic: Home is Not a Place [2/2] (Jon/Spencer, NC-17)
part one.
* * *
Spencer tries to look casual as they walk back through the lobby and up to their room. He's embarrassingly certain that the girl on reception took one look at the two of them walking-not-very-slowly towards their room with wet hair and stupid smiles all over their faces and knew exactly what was going on, but he's doing his best not to care. He's totally grown up and allowed to have sex with his boyfriend in a hotel room in the middle of the afternoon if he wants to.
And, fuck, does he ever want to.
Jon dumps the bag with their towels and wet trunks balled up inside it onto the floor just inside the door, kicks off his shoes right by it (so, okay, the flip-flops have some advantages), and doesn't waste a second in crowding Spencer up against the foot of the bed. His hands are gentle, landing lightly on Spencer's shoulders as he leans in to kiss him again, and Spencer bites his own lip before opening his mouth to Jon, trying to stop mentally replaying the blow-job in the hot tub long enough to figure out what to with his own hands now that they've got all the time and privacy they could want.
He has to wriggle awkwardly between Jon and the bed to toe his own shoes off, but manages to do it without taking his hands or mouth off Jon, which is probably the best outcome he could've hoped for. Jon's hands are restless on his back and sides, moving in broad arcs and not settling for longer than a second. Spencer has no idea how Jon managed to wait and then drive to get them back, but he's grateful, and he figures it's more than time to start demonstrating that. "Come on," he murmurs against Jon's lips, and tugs in demonstration at the hem of Jon's shirt. Jon gets the message right away and takes one step back, pulling his shirt over his head in one easy motion, and dropping his hands to the fastening of his jeans - neither of them had bothered with a belt in the changing rooms - and yanks the button open and the zipper down with nothing even approaching finesse. Spencer's kind of looking forward to undressing him later himself, but this is faster and he's more than happy with that given that it feels like it's only thirty seconds later that Jon's standing in front of him wearing nothing more than loose plaid boxers, which are kind of sticking to his skin a little, both because neither of them dried off particularly thoroughly, and because he's clearly, obviously, well and truly turned on. Spencer's mouth goes a little dry, to be honest.
"Spencer," Jon whines, and nudges his hips against him, and Spencer swallows hard, because, right, he's actually got more to do here than stare at Jon being all hot and semi-naked, and starts stripping as well. Jon's practically vibrating against him - in fact, he's looking like nothing more than Dylan when she's stalking a bird through the windows of Jon's apartment, all quivering energy and potential, and Spencer doesn't do more than breathe out audibly when Jon breaks and does pounce, half-shoving him back into the soft mattress when Spencer's got his jeans hanging off one ankle and his shirt barely on the floor. Spencer wriggles and kicks his jeans off (and hopes that neither of them stand on his phone in the pocket later), but mostly he's got his attention filled with the armful of Jon Walker, laid out full length on top of him, nipping at his collarbone and panting.
"Spencer, fuck," Jon says, and his voice is raw and it's doing astounding things to Spencer's heart rate, "Oh god, this was going to be so much classier, I swear," but he's nuzzling at Spencer's neck and practically squirming, and Spencer couldn't care less about classy or romantic, or anything else Jon had apparently been planning, he just wants.
He manages to stop touching Jon's bare skin long enough to curl his thumbs under the waistband of Jon's boxers, tugging down. That's not terribly successful on its own - Jon is pressed so tightly against him, and his arms are only so long anyway, and so he only really works the elastic down to Jon's hips, the fabric still caught between their bodies. Then his hands get kind of distracted - and it's totally his hands, Spencer has no conscious control over them, he'd swear to it - with the newly accessible curve of Jon's ass, palms pressed firm against warm skin, holding Jon close.
Jon shudders on top of him and stops leaving beard burn under his jaw long enough to raise himself up on his elbows and look at Spencer directly, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.
"Good as that feels, Spence, we should maybe try to, to do the smart thing, right?"
Spencer's fairly certain that very little of his actual blood supply is actually making it up to his brain right now, and the way he just stares back at Jon and waits for him to keep talking must communicate that, because Jon laughs - low and sexy and not at all his usual near-giggle - and says, "We need to get naked, Spencer," and Spencer thinks "Of course, right," and peels his fingers off Jon's backside, biting his own lip in a (probably futile) effort to clear his head at least a tiny bit.
Jon rolls off him and wiggles his boxers off his hips and down his thighs with an economy of motion that Spencer has to admire. He blinks and reminds himself not to stare at Jon, the winter-pale slope of his belly shading into darker whorls of hair, the way his fingers curl loosely around his cock once his underwear is off and hitting the floor, an impatient touch as he waits for Spencer. In turn, Spencer wriggles out of his own boxers, with what he suspects is considerably less grace, and then there they are, both completely naked, stretched out on the bed and watching each other.
Spencer shifts a little on the sheets, the cotton feeling rougher than it ought to against bare skin, and wishes Jon was on top of him again, that he wasn't taking an entirely unwanted moment free of that immediate blood-hot distraction to think about stupid things like whether he can do this right or what Jon's going to think of him, and that's when he notices that, in fact, the air conditioner must've been running and the room is most certainly chillier than it should be. Goose-pimples prickle up along his arms and stomach, and he has a moment to think, "Seriously? Oh, for fuckssake," and then he's meeting Jon's eyes again, and somehow, remarkably, they're both laughing; at the sudden and unexpected awkwardness, at the rush of unwelcome cool air on over-heated bodies, at themselves.
"This is easy, honest," Jon says quietly, and then he shifts so that he's on top of Spencer again, pressing into him in all the right places, and Spencer forgets abruptly about the temperature and the picture they're making, just lets his hands slide down to cup Jon's hips and arches up into him.
They kiss again, then, soft and lingering, but there's an edge that's never been there before, the scalding awareness that is Spencer's hand moving between their bodies, wrist tilting at an unfamiliar angle to wrap around Jon's dick, echoing the way he'd touched himself earlier, just more pressure and more speed. Jon bites off a muffled curse and drops his head onto Spencer's shoulder, hips moving restlessly, the head of his cock dragging against Spencer's thigh as Spencer's hand moves, increasingly confident.
"Good?" Spencer asks, voice low, hardly pitched above the soft sounds of skin on skin, and Jon nods frantically, almost hitting his head into Spencer's jaw as he does so.
"Yes, god, yeah, just- fuck, I could- I could come like this, Spence, so easy, I want-" and Jon lifts up, a little, gets his thumb on the pulse-point between the bones in Spencer's wrist and moves his hand away, before letting himself fall back into him. His hips shift restlessly as he rubs himself off against Spencer's body, making helpless little grunts as his body shifts and yearns, and Spencer trails a hand over the bumps of his spine, nape to ass and back up again, over and over, breathless with how hot Jon is, how simple it is to be with him, to be what drives him this crazy.
Jon shudders again a few minutes later, coming over Spencer's belly, and it's sticky and warm and probably shouldn't turn him on as much as it does, but sheesh. Jon won't meet his eyes for another few seconds after that, shoulders heaving as he takes deep breaths, calming down.
"Thanks," Jon starts, and when Spencer starts to say that, really, it was his pleasure, Jon keeps going, "No, thank you, that was so good, except normally I kind of like to get the guy I'm sleeping with off as well, so-"
"You went down on me in the hot tub," Spencer feels bound to point out, but Jon just snuggles into his chest more, the very picture of lassitude, and replies as if it's an actual point that follows logically, "So I was thinking, if you want, you could fuck me now?"
Spencer maybe greys out a little.
He blinks hard, scrambling for some semblance of self-control to respond to Jon with, but Jon is looking up at him, his whole body shaking slightly with laughter, and Spencer is a little more gruff than he means to be when he says, "What?"
Jon scoots off him at last, making a face as their skin sticks a little, and lies on his side, just barely touching Spencer, his free hand petting his hip.
"You know, people who actually pass out talking about it don't get to have sex," Jon says conversationally, and Spencer glares at him. "No, I'm serious. It's like a health and safety issue. Plus, unconscious people? That's just not cool. And look what happened to Buffy, right?"
"Oh my god," Spencer groans, hiding his face under his forearm and trying to forget just how badly he wants to, well, do everything with Jon. "You are not funny."
"Who's being funny?" Jon asks innocently, and Spencer just knows he's grinning. It's all very well for some people, like ones who've actually got to have an orgasm in the last twenty minutes and therefore are capable of rational thought and utterly unfair mocking. "It's a valid concern, Spence. I don't want you passing out on me from- manly hunger, or something."
"You know," Spencer says, cracking one eye open to stare dolefully at Jon's laughing expression, "there's a horrible joke I could be making here about protein," and he stretches out as if to run his fingers through the mess on his stomach, and Jon's expression shifts from lazy amusement to blatant lust in less than an eyeblink. Spencer freezes, not really sure what to do.
"Kind of not really safe," Jon reminds him, voice husky and unconvincing, and he bites his lip while he stares at Spencer.
Spencer swallows hard. "You know I'm-" his voice doesn't wobble at all, thank god, but he definitely does go a little pink in the cheeks, "I'm clean. Something you need to tell me?"
Jon shakes his head. "I just like to be careful." He pauses a second, and then goes on, choosing his words deliberately. "I want to be careful with you, Spence," and Spencer feels a tiny rush of irritation, because damnit, he's not going to break if Jon doesn't handle him carefully. He tells himself it's not that Jon's doubting them, and it's easier than he would've thought it would be to believe that. It's a little uncomfortable to think about, sure, but he knows Jon is nuts about him, is as crazy as he is about Jon, he's just- trying to be responsible. (Frankly, Spencer would rather get back to having sex than thinking about it. This is just awkward.)
"This is awkward," he says finally, and Jon nods and looks abashed. "I sort of killed the mood, huh?"
"It was sweet," Spencer says, which isn't exactly disagreeing, and Jon clearly gets that, because he makes a face and shoves at Spencer's shoulder.
"Bite me," he says peaceable, and Spencer, who isn't stupid, says "Okay," and does just that.
The kissing goes on for quite a while this time, less rushed, and even though Spencer is still hard, has been almost since they walked in the door, the sense of urgency has receded along with whatever nerves he'd been feeling.
"I was actually serious about you fucking me," Jon says, three or five or seventeen minutes later, and Spencer just says, "Yes, please," and holds out his hand for the lube and condoms which Jon has fished from off the bedside table. He lets one hand anchor at the very base of Jon's spine, thumb pressing hard into the dip there, index finger stroking lightly down, enjoying the way Jon shivers in broken sharp little motions at the touch.
The first finger slips into Jon's body more easily than Spencer would've dared to imagine, and the noises Jon makes as he adds a second, and then gradually, later, a third are worth the entire price of this trip alone. Spencer moves carefully, stretching him, exploring, doing his best to memorise the sensation, trying not to imagine what it's going to feel like when it's his dick and not just his fingers.
"'m not gonna break," Jon says thickly, and his hips are shifting restlessly now as he arches back into Spencer's touch, demanding, and Spencer can't say no. Jon is even more pliable than normal in this state, and Spencer shifts them both around until they're comfortable, waits till Jon says, "Yeah, that's good, that'll work, please, now," and Spencer moves, lets his hands bracket Jon's hips, and then he's inside him, and a whole lot of really overblown prose about "hot" and "tight" and "oh Jesus fucking Christ" suddenly makes a lot more immediate sense.
"Oh god," Spencer says, and leans in to kiss Jon, hard and fast, and then Jon bites at his lip and says "Spencer," kind of desperately, which Spencer translates as "move, please," and does, which seems to be the right approach. Jon's eyes flutter closed and he's moving with Spencer, making encouraging little noises that are mostly breathy vowel sounds, hands clenching tight into the sheets, pulling them out of shape.
It feels good, so good, and Spencer kind of thinks that if he's not careful his eyes are going to cross from the sheer pleasure overload, and then they're going to stick that way (and no one wants a cross-eyed drummer, that's not even remotely badass), and then Jon does something, rolling his hips up a little as his body tightens around Spencer. Spencer makes an embarrassing sound of his own and clutches harder at Jon, vaguely feeling like he wants to make sure Jon comes first or something, and oh, right, he can actually help with that, can't he, so he wraps one hand loosely around Jon's dick and jerks him off, finding a rhythm fast, so that Jon is whining under him, shaking apart, and Spencer lasts an entirely respectable minute and a half longer before coming himself, making one last breathless choked sound into Jon's shoulder as he does.
They pull apart slowly, carefully, and make a cursory effort to clean up, but neither of them has really got the energy left to make it to the shower right then anyway, and so instead Spencer just reaches down to pull the blankets over them, curling into Jon's warmth.
"You're gonna bitch so much when we wake up," Jon murmurs, running blunt nails lightly across Spencer's shoulder blades, aimless circles. "We're kind of messy."
Spencer just mumbles something indistinct in response, and tucks his face more emphatically into the pillow. "'s all right," he says, a second later with sleepy satisfaction, tucking the blanket right up under his chin and his palm under Jon's hip, "I just smell like you."
As vacations go, Spencer is more than happy with this one.
* * *
Claire: ... I bet Ryan and Jon steal road cones when they're high one day and then Spencer lectures Jon on how disappointed he is in his changing attitudes towards road safety, and he's trying to sound stern and disapproving but it's really hard to do when Jon's all slithering off the couch to grab at Spencer's hips and lean in to nuzzle his head against Spencer's thigh so he can look up at him and give him the high-powered puppy eyes because Jon kind of finds Spencer being grumpy or stern (or just faking it) stupidly hot and he's not above dragging Spencer down with him.
Kat: And Spencer almost wishes that Jon and Ryan were still kind of wary of each other, because them being friends = THEM DOING STUPID SHIT.
Claire: And while sometimes that's entertaining, mostly, other times he kind of actually does want to just whap them both upside the head. Besides, Ryan keeps dragging Jon off to talk about music or run over melody lines with him, and that's fine, Spencer is totally on board with them writing together (especially since eventually they might be able to do something awesome with a band - because he's heard Brendon singing, and once Ryan gets over dancing around him like an- a something with a sore foot, seriously, he's not the lyrics guy, whatever - then he is so pushing for Brendon to come in for vocals), but anyway, as good as that is and as understanding and considerate a boyfriend as Spencer is, sometimes he really really just needs Jon for important sex purposes. Frankly, as his best friend Ryan could stand to be a little more sympathetic.
* * *
Jon prods Spencer awake, early and abruptly, one morning in July. Spencer flails and buries his face in the pillow. Jon is undeterred. "Wake up, sleepyhead," he says cheerfully.
"Fuck off," Spencer tries to say, somewhat muffled by the pillow. Possibly he shouldn’t - sleepovers are still new for him and Jon - but it’s better that Jon learn sooner, rather than later, that Spencer Smith and mornings are not on good terms.
Jon is, however, remarkably tolerant of Spencer at his bitchiest. "Spence," he says, poking at Spencer’s shoulder again. "Spence, seriously, get up. There is coffee in the kitchen, and travel mugs, and we are going out to get free pancakes because you have been missing out all your life and you don’t even know it."
"Mrrrh," Spencer says into the pillow.
"And," Jon continues, "I will make it up to you later."
Spencer raises his head and blinks at Jon. "Promise me that you don’t think breakfast foods, free or not, count as making it up to me."
"I promise," Jon says. Spencer gets up.
* * *
Spencer’s still used to Vegas weather, because it feels totally normal and temperate to him, but Jon’s sweating and looks uncomfortable. They bump shoulders as they stand in a mall parking lot, in a lineup with a hundred strangers. "You’re the one who wanted to come," Spencer says, pitching his voice so Jon can hear him over the mediocre country band on the makeshift stage.
"It’s tradition," Jon says. "You can’t understand Calgary until you understand Stampede breakfasts."
Spencer doesn’t understand a place that basically shuts down for a week every year so that people can party and wear cowboy hats - and eat free pancakes - but he wants to understand Jon better.
They get cheap paper plates of mass-produced pancakes and fake maple syrup, and don’t even try to find a spot at the tables but go sit on the curb of the sidewalk, as far away from the band as they can get. "What do you think?" Jon asks.
"The pancakes are crap," Spencer says around a mouthful.
"No, I mean -" Jon makes a sweeping sort of gesture, mindful of the plate balanced on his knees.
"It’s-" It’s too early, yes, but it’s also… kind of nice, this huge group of people, laughing and having fun and apparently not caring that it’s cheesy as hell. "I see why you wanted to come," Spencer says.
Jon grins at him. "Now you can be a real Calgarian," he says, grinning.
That’s never really been one of Spencer’s ambitions, to belong in the place Ryan had blindly pointed to on a map ("I’m just going to leave," Ryan had said late one night when they were in high school, "pick the most random place I can think of and - leave," and Spencer didn’t care where they ended up, just knew he couldn’t let Ryan off loose into the world without a keeper), but he’s here now and it’s… kind of nice. Yeah. He leans into Jon’s side for a quick moment and steals the last bite of pancake.
***
Kat: Oh. my. god. I just realised what I want, which is Jon and Brendon tagging along with a bunch of bookstore people to karaoke and awesomeness ensuing.
Claire: That could be how Spencer gets to hear Brendon sing. And Ryan is just so, so sunk, because oh god, Brendon is adorable and kind of funny and he plays, like, five million instruments apparently and he has the prettiest eyes and Ryan is just- so screwed. It's so not fair.
Kat: Spencer will go to hang out but completely refuses to sing, except for how he sings along while other people are up there. And Brendon sings Don't Stop Believing because it's a law that someone has to, every time there's karaoke. And Gabe sings Gwen Stefani! Oh, and Jon would sing Counting Crows, and Spencer would fall just a little bit more. And it's not like he thinks Jon has the best voice there (hello, Brendon, and Gabe, and Greta), but he looks so fucking adorable and earnest and keeps looking at Spencer and giving him this smile that's kind of -- private, despite him being at the mic.
Claire: OMG WHAT WOULD GABE SING.
Kat: HOLLABACK GIRL OBVIOUSLY
Claire: He can sing multiple things, though. the apt of luuuv suggests Like A Virgin or some other 80s Madonna.
Kat: Would anyone sing Spice Girls? I fucking love singing Spice Girls.
Claire: God, I want RYAN to. Or BRENDON TO DRAG RYAN UP. TO SING WANNABE. while Ryan DIES ON THE SPOT. and Spencer does too but for ENTIRELY DIFFERENT REASONS.
Oh god, please tell me Jon and Spencer have inappropriate bathroom make-outs. And then they think someone's about to walk in so they spring apart all guilty-like and then go out to the corridor because, seriously, they really shouldn't do that there, and as a result, are the only people to see Brendon and Ryan's first actual kiss. (Ryan starts it, and both he and Brendon are kind of shocked by this later, but they're alone and Brendon won't stop talking and he has that mouth and Ryan just- can't remember why this was a bad idea anymore, because, god, Brendon feels so good all stumbling back against the wall and panting and staring wide-eyed at Ryan and touching his lower lip lightly with his thumb as if he can't believe it actually just happened.)
* * *
And then there's how Jon writes little songs for Spencer, or about him (he does one about "tiny slanty-hipped book-shelving sexy drummer guy" to the tune from Once, this one time, and Spencer isn't quite sure whether he's flattered or MORTIFIED), and he keeps just saying they're silly, but Ryan's been saving some of them quietly, because there's potential there. Then Jon takes to humming Broken-Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy at work, with this huge grin on his face, and Spencer just goes red every time he hears it and has to go hide on the counters.
* * *
Spencer refuses to admit how much he loves snuggling, or that anything he and Jon do could be described that way, and he will glare to death anyone who suggests it. But sometimes he and Jon sit on the couch and Jon's arm is around Spencer's shoulders and Spencer's head is resting against Jon's side, and Spencer's sure there's a more acceptable word to use because he refuses to accept "snuggling" but he isn't about to give it up.
* * *
So Jon has sort of a Thing for Spencer's neck. He can spend extraordinary lengths of time on it, kissing and licking and nipping while Spencer squirms under his hands. Spencer has ended up with some really spectacular hickies and keeps wishing he was Ryan and could get away with wearing scarves all the time, because as secretly thrilling as it is to go around with Jon's marks on him - he kind of really likes that part - it's getting embarrassing, the knowing looks and winks (fucking Gabe) he gets at work every time. Having said that- he definitely doesn't mind enough to get Jon to stop. Everyone's just jealous that none of them have a boyfriend as hot as Jon.
* * *
Jon comes back from work with a sore back from spending too much time bending over after hauling all his gear up a couple flights of stairs at their show the night before. When Spencer lets himself in - he and Jon exchanged keys a couple weeks back, it was stupidly adorable - to find Jon sacked out on his stomach on the couch, looking completely pathetic, all he can do is bring him some water and then perch over his hips and give him a back rub, strong hands working carefully up and down Jon's spine until he's a boneless sprawl of appreciative whimpers. Jon tries to get up, because Spencer's body is having the inevitable reaction to hearing Jon moan, but Spencer just smacks his arm and tells him not to fuck up his good work, while he wiggles off the couch to sit on the coffee table and jerk off where Jon can see him without moving.
Jon is really hard and breathing heavily by the time Spencer finishes, and groans when Spencer comes messily on his stomach. "Yeah?" he asks. Jon groans again. "Turn over," Spencer says breathlessly. Jon rolls onto his back, and Spencer slowly unzips his jeans and pulls them down with his boxers.
He goes down without any prompting or warning, and he's not exactly an expert yet - still sloppily enthusiastic - but it's so, so hot. Jon watches him, head propped up on the arm of the couch, and thinks that Spencer has never done this for anyone else. At that thought, he comes, too quickly to warn Spencer. He pulls off after a moment, throat working, and then grins and flops down to lie on Jon. "Hey, quit it," Jon murmurs, "you're going to fuck up my back again," and Spencer just laughs.
The next logical step is a hot shower, and Spencer gets hard again right away because a) he's nineteen and b) he's naked with Jon Walker. Jon doesn't, immediately, and smirks at Spencer when he starts rubbing up against Jon's thigh. "Hold on, I need a minute. Some of us aren't teenagers," he laughs. Spencer narrows his eyes and makes it his personal mission to get Jon on board as quickly as is humanly possible, Which is pretty quick, it turns out.
* * *
Spencer isn't used to having more than maybe a couple of beers, and Jon isn't really surprised when Spencer vastly overestimates his own tolerance and gets well and truly wasted the night Jon hosts a party. He's actually kind of a hilarious drunk, sloppy and loud and hugging anyone who stands still long enough. Jon's keeping an eye on him, and Brendon is sticking pretty close (possibly just because he likes being on the receiving end of the hugs, but Jon's comfortable with that - better him than Gabe; at least Brendon won't be copping a feel). Even Ryan's loosened up a bit, which for Ryan means he's in the corner, apparently trying to have an intense and serious conversation with Pete, who keeps laughing at inappropriate time.
Jon's only had a couple drinks, he wants to be clear-headed to make sure his various groups of friends, as well as Spencer's, are getting along okay. They are, possibly a little too okay - in hindsight, maybe putting Gabe and William in the same room wasn't his best idea ever.
Things are going pretty smoothly, though, generally. He's congratulating himself a little when Spencer sneaks up behind him, kisses his neck, and takes a fast grope.
(Or, from a certain point of view, a little earlier: "Spencer," Brendon says seriously, "Spencer, tequila is not your friend." Brendon is drinking a Capri Sun, and possibly making fun of Spencer.
But the tequila is leaving a nice warm buzz in Spencer's stomach that he's quite happy with, thank you very much, and he just smiles sunnily at Brendon - who is cute as a button, really, and should definitely go hang off of Ryan and make everyone happy, Spencer thinks - and decides to go find Jon again so he can be friendly with him as well as the tequila.
Brendon, who catches the latter half of this, just grins and grabs his camera, because the incriminating photos from this are gonna be awesome.)
"Jon," Spencer says, biting his ear a little too hard. "Jon, let's go into the bedroom, okay?"
His hand is toying with the waistband of Jon's jeans. Jon would very much like to say yes, but... no. "Spence, we can't," he says, trying to push Spencer's hands away. "Not now, okay? Later, though." He leans in to give him a quick kiss (there's a wolf-whistle at that, which could have come from basically anyone).
Spencer pouts, which is probably the cutest thing Jon has ever seen, when Jon firmly refuses to go any further - not in public, certainly not after having heard Greta and Vicky-T speculating about their relationship in embarrassingly graphic detail.
Luckily, Spencer is also a fairly pliant drunk, and lets Jon steer him towards the couch without resisting. He does try to pull Jon down with him, and he’s pretty fucking strong, but he’s also clumsy and Jon manages to evade him. "I’ll be back soon, okay?" he says, kissing Spencer on the top of the head and leaving him to chatter at Mikey.
He does mean to be back soon, but he is kind of forced to, like, talk to his friends at his own party, even though Spencer keeps pouting at him a little, and shooting him hot, heavy-lidded looks that make Jon very, very tempted to start kicking people out the door - literally, if he has to.
Though it’s too long for Jon’s patience, it actually doesn’t take long for people to catch on and start trickling out the door, many with knowing grins that Jon barely registers, some with wicked remarks that Jon wishes he could un-hear. Brendon and Ryan are unsurprisingly the last to leave. Brendon is talking to Jon -- distracting Jon - over by the door while Ryan is sitting next to Spencer and talking in serious, low tones. Jon thinks he should maybe be worried, but then Spencer laughs and kisses Ryan sloppily on the cheek, and it’s so adorable that Jon can’t really worry about it.
Also adorable is how Brendon and Ryan are holding hands as they leave, and Jon takes a moment to grin about it before looking back at Spencer, who is not grinning. Spencer’s eyes have gone dark and he’s licking his lips, and Jon sometimes can’t believe how incredibly hot his boyfriend is.
Jon sits down beside Spencer, who is pretty well sunk into the couch cushions, and puts a hand on Spencer’s leg, just because he can. "What did Ryan want?" he asks idly.
"Ryan doesn’t want you to take advantage of me in my vulnerable state," Spencer says, not sounding too worried about it.
"Um." Jon snatches his hand from Spencer’s leg, because he definitely doesn’t want to do that, except for how it sort of sums up what he wants to do. "Spence…"
Spencer grabs Jon’s hand and puts it back on his leg - significantly higher than Jon had placed it, actually. "Jon," he says seriously, then spoils it by grinning, and - wow, Spencer has the best smile in the world, Jon feels a little blinded by it, this close up. "Jon, I seriously, seriously don’t think you even could take advantage of me, okay?"
Jon’s fingers tighten reflexively on Spencer’s thigh. "No, but you’re not exactly yourself right now, and we don’t have to do anything -"
Spencer puts his hand over Jon’s and slides them up till it’s not really Spencer’s leg that Jon’s holding. "I promise," he says, not spoiling his tone with a grin this time, "I promise I am smart enough not to be in this situation with someone I don’t trust, and I know you wouldn’t do anything that you thought for a second I wouldn’t want, and, okay, just stay still, okay?" And then Spencer slides down the couch onto the floor, and, fuck, gets onto his knees and undoes Jon’s jeans.
Jon totally braces himself for a blowjob, but Spencer doesn’t really go for it, just cups Jon’s balls and rubs his face against Jon’s cock and, like, breathes on him. Jon gets really hard, really fast, but he knows he’s not going to come from this, he wants more, so he grabs Spencer’s shoulders and hauls him up so that he’s straddling Jon’s lap and so they can kiss while Jon struggles to pull Spencer’s jeans down. They won’t really go down further than his ass, not while his legs are stretched open over Jon’s, but it’s enough that they manage to line up their dicks and rut against each other while Spencer tries to hike Jon’s t-shirt up, and Jon clutches at Spencer’s soft hair.
It doesn’t take long for either of them to come, which isn’t very surprising, really. Spencer slumps down so that he’s breathing hotly onto Jon’s neck, and once Jon has calmed his own breathing, he maneuvers them to lie on the couch.
* * *
Brendon hasn't been drinking because he drove. He has a horrible purple minivan which he loves and everyone else pretends to hate, but mostly they love it too because it's just so convenient, having a friend with a van.
Ryan's a little tight-lipped in the car, and people have accused Brendon of being oblivious sometimes but he watches Ryan, and Ryan spends so much time blank-faced that even the smallest expressions come across like neon signs. "What's up, Ryan Ross?" Brendon asks, only taking little glances at Ryan, because he has to pay attention to the road.
"It's nothing," Ryan says. Ryan is a liar.
"No, hey," Brendon says beseechingly. "Ryan, come on, what's wrong?"
"I'm worried," Ryan admits, and then adds "about Spencer," like there was any possible doubt. Brendon makes an encouraging noise, and Ryan goes on. "He's not used to this, okay, and I don't want him getting hurt-" and then he trails off in a huff when Brendon starts laughing.
"Dude," Brendon says, trying not to laugh too hard as he pulls in front of Ryan's apartment building and parks. "Dude, have you even been paying attention? Jon's not going to hurt him, not in whatever way you think might happen. Jon is stupid in love with Spencer, and I'm pretty sure Spencer is stupid in love with Jon. And you need to sit back and laugh at them, because they won't always be this cute."
"They're not cute," Ryan mutters. He looks a little sullen, but gives up on that a moment later in the face of Brendon's skeptical-yet-disapproving look. "Okay, they are kind of cute."
Brendon grins at that. "Yeah, they are," he agrees, leaning in to kiss Ryan quickly. "And so are we."
--finis--
* * *
Spencer tries to look casual as they walk back through the lobby and up to their room. He's embarrassingly certain that the girl on reception took one look at the two of them walking-not-very-slowly towards their room with wet hair and stupid smiles all over their faces and knew exactly what was going on, but he's doing his best not to care. He's totally grown up and allowed to have sex with his boyfriend in a hotel room in the middle of the afternoon if he wants to.
And, fuck, does he ever want to.
Jon dumps the bag with their towels and wet trunks balled up inside it onto the floor just inside the door, kicks off his shoes right by it (so, okay, the flip-flops have some advantages), and doesn't waste a second in crowding Spencer up against the foot of the bed. His hands are gentle, landing lightly on Spencer's shoulders as he leans in to kiss him again, and Spencer bites his own lip before opening his mouth to Jon, trying to stop mentally replaying the blow-job in the hot tub long enough to figure out what to with his own hands now that they've got all the time and privacy they could want.
He has to wriggle awkwardly between Jon and the bed to toe his own shoes off, but manages to do it without taking his hands or mouth off Jon, which is probably the best outcome he could've hoped for. Jon's hands are restless on his back and sides, moving in broad arcs and not settling for longer than a second. Spencer has no idea how Jon managed to wait and then drive to get them back, but he's grateful, and he figures it's more than time to start demonstrating that. "Come on," he murmurs against Jon's lips, and tugs in demonstration at the hem of Jon's shirt. Jon gets the message right away and takes one step back, pulling his shirt over his head in one easy motion, and dropping his hands to the fastening of his jeans - neither of them had bothered with a belt in the changing rooms - and yanks the button open and the zipper down with nothing even approaching finesse. Spencer's kind of looking forward to undressing him later himself, but this is faster and he's more than happy with that given that it feels like it's only thirty seconds later that Jon's standing in front of him wearing nothing more than loose plaid boxers, which are kind of sticking to his skin a little, both because neither of them dried off particularly thoroughly, and because he's clearly, obviously, well and truly turned on. Spencer's mouth goes a little dry, to be honest.
"Spencer," Jon whines, and nudges his hips against him, and Spencer swallows hard, because, right, he's actually got more to do here than stare at Jon being all hot and semi-naked, and starts stripping as well. Jon's practically vibrating against him - in fact, he's looking like nothing more than Dylan when she's stalking a bird through the windows of Jon's apartment, all quivering energy and potential, and Spencer doesn't do more than breathe out audibly when Jon breaks and does pounce, half-shoving him back into the soft mattress when Spencer's got his jeans hanging off one ankle and his shirt barely on the floor. Spencer wriggles and kicks his jeans off (and hopes that neither of them stand on his phone in the pocket later), but mostly he's got his attention filled with the armful of Jon Walker, laid out full length on top of him, nipping at his collarbone and panting.
"Spencer, fuck," Jon says, and his voice is raw and it's doing astounding things to Spencer's heart rate, "Oh god, this was going to be so much classier, I swear," but he's nuzzling at Spencer's neck and practically squirming, and Spencer couldn't care less about classy or romantic, or anything else Jon had apparently been planning, he just wants.
He manages to stop touching Jon's bare skin long enough to curl his thumbs under the waistband of Jon's boxers, tugging down. That's not terribly successful on its own - Jon is pressed so tightly against him, and his arms are only so long anyway, and so he only really works the elastic down to Jon's hips, the fabric still caught between their bodies. Then his hands get kind of distracted - and it's totally his hands, Spencer has no conscious control over them, he'd swear to it - with the newly accessible curve of Jon's ass, palms pressed firm against warm skin, holding Jon close.
Jon shudders on top of him and stops leaving beard burn under his jaw long enough to raise himself up on his elbows and look at Spencer directly, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.
"Good as that feels, Spence, we should maybe try to, to do the smart thing, right?"
Spencer's fairly certain that very little of his actual blood supply is actually making it up to his brain right now, and the way he just stares back at Jon and waits for him to keep talking must communicate that, because Jon laughs - low and sexy and not at all his usual near-giggle - and says, "We need to get naked, Spencer," and Spencer thinks "Of course, right," and peels his fingers off Jon's backside, biting his own lip in a (probably futile) effort to clear his head at least a tiny bit.
Jon rolls off him and wiggles his boxers off his hips and down his thighs with an economy of motion that Spencer has to admire. He blinks and reminds himself not to stare at Jon, the winter-pale slope of his belly shading into darker whorls of hair, the way his fingers curl loosely around his cock once his underwear is off and hitting the floor, an impatient touch as he waits for Spencer. In turn, Spencer wriggles out of his own boxers, with what he suspects is considerably less grace, and then there they are, both completely naked, stretched out on the bed and watching each other.
Spencer shifts a little on the sheets, the cotton feeling rougher than it ought to against bare skin, and wishes Jon was on top of him again, that he wasn't taking an entirely unwanted moment free of that immediate blood-hot distraction to think about stupid things like whether he can do this right or what Jon's going to think of him, and that's when he notices that, in fact, the air conditioner must've been running and the room is most certainly chillier than it should be. Goose-pimples prickle up along his arms and stomach, and he has a moment to think, "Seriously? Oh, for fuckssake," and then he's meeting Jon's eyes again, and somehow, remarkably, they're both laughing; at the sudden and unexpected awkwardness, at the rush of unwelcome cool air on over-heated bodies, at themselves.
"This is easy, honest," Jon says quietly, and then he shifts so that he's on top of Spencer again, pressing into him in all the right places, and Spencer forgets abruptly about the temperature and the picture they're making, just lets his hands slide down to cup Jon's hips and arches up into him.
They kiss again, then, soft and lingering, but there's an edge that's never been there before, the scalding awareness that is Spencer's hand moving between their bodies, wrist tilting at an unfamiliar angle to wrap around Jon's dick, echoing the way he'd touched himself earlier, just more pressure and more speed. Jon bites off a muffled curse and drops his head onto Spencer's shoulder, hips moving restlessly, the head of his cock dragging against Spencer's thigh as Spencer's hand moves, increasingly confident.
"Good?" Spencer asks, voice low, hardly pitched above the soft sounds of skin on skin, and Jon nods frantically, almost hitting his head into Spencer's jaw as he does so.
"Yes, god, yeah, just- fuck, I could- I could come like this, Spence, so easy, I want-" and Jon lifts up, a little, gets his thumb on the pulse-point between the bones in Spencer's wrist and moves his hand away, before letting himself fall back into him. His hips shift restlessly as he rubs himself off against Spencer's body, making helpless little grunts as his body shifts and yearns, and Spencer trails a hand over the bumps of his spine, nape to ass and back up again, over and over, breathless with how hot Jon is, how simple it is to be with him, to be what drives him this crazy.
Jon shudders again a few minutes later, coming over Spencer's belly, and it's sticky and warm and probably shouldn't turn him on as much as it does, but sheesh. Jon won't meet his eyes for another few seconds after that, shoulders heaving as he takes deep breaths, calming down.
"Thanks," Jon starts, and when Spencer starts to say that, really, it was his pleasure, Jon keeps going, "No, thank you, that was so good, except normally I kind of like to get the guy I'm sleeping with off as well, so-"
"You went down on me in the hot tub," Spencer feels bound to point out, but Jon just snuggles into his chest more, the very picture of lassitude, and replies as if it's an actual point that follows logically, "So I was thinking, if you want, you could fuck me now?"
Spencer maybe greys out a little.
He blinks hard, scrambling for some semblance of self-control to respond to Jon with, but Jon is looking up at him, his whole body shaking slightly with laughter, and Spencer is a little more gruff than he means to be when he says, "What?"
Jon scoots off him at last, making a face as their skin sticks a little, and lies on his side, just barely touching Spencer, his free hand petting his hip.
"You know, people who actually pass out talking about it don't get to have sex," Jon says conversationally, and Spencer glares at him. "No, I'm serious. It's like a health and safety issue. Plus, unconscious people? That's just not cool. And look what happened to Buffy, right?"
"Oh my god," Spencer groans, hiding his face under his forearm and trying to forget just how badly he wants to, well, do everything with Jon. "You are not funny."
"Who's being funny?" Jon asks innocently, and Spencer just knows he's grinning. It's all very well for some people, like ones who've actually got to have an orgasm in the last twenty minutes and therefore are capable of rational thought and utterly unfair mocking. "It's a valid concern, Spence. I don't want you passing out on me from- manly hunger, or something."
"You know," Spencer says, cracking one eye open to stare dolefully at Jon's laughing expression, "there's a horrible joke I could be making here about protein," and he stretches out as if to run his fingers through the mess on his stomach, and Jon's expression shifts from lazy amusement to blatant lust in less than an eyeblink. Spencer freezes, not really sure what to do.
"Kind of not really safe," Jon reminds him, voice husky and unconvincing, and he bites his lip while he stares at Spencer.
Spencer swallows hard. "You know I'm-" his voice doesn't wobble at all, thank god, but he definitely does go a little pink in the cheeks, "I'm clean. Something you need to tell me?"
Jon shakes his head. "I just like to be careful." He pauses a second, and then goes on, choosing his words deliberately. "I want to be careful with you, Spence," and Spencer feels a tiny rush of irritation, because damnit, he's not going to break if Jon doesn't handle him carefully. He tells himself it's not that Jon's doubting them, and it's easier than he would've thought it would be to believe that. It's a little uncomfortable to think about, sure, but he knows Jon is nuts about him, is as crazy as he is about Jon, he's just- trying to be responsible. (Frankly, Spencer would rather get back to having sex than thinking about it. This is just awkward.)
"This is awkward," he says finally, and Jon nods and looks abashed. "I sort of killed the mood, huh?"
"It was sweet," Spencer says, which isn't exactly disagreeing, and Jon clearly gets that, because he makes a face and shoves at Spencer's shoulder.
"Bite me," he says peaceable, and Spencer, who isn't stupid, says "Okay," and does just that.
The kissing goes on for quite a while this time, less rushed, and even though Spencer is still hard, has been almost since they walked in the door, the sense of urgency has receded along with whatever nerves he'd been feeling.
"I was actually serious about you fucking me," Jon says, three or five or seventeen minutes later, and Spencer just says, "Yes, please," and holds out his hand for the lube and condoms which Jon has fished from off the bedside table. He lets one hand anchor at the very base of Jon's spine, thumb pressing hard into the dip there, index finger stroking lightly down, enjoying the way Jon shivers in broken sharp little motions at the touch.
The first finger slips into Jon's body more easily than Spencer would've dared to imagine, and the noises Jon makes as he adds a second, and then gradually, later, a third are worth the entire price of this trip alone. Spencer moves carefully, stretching him, exploring, doing his best to memorise the sensation, trying not to imagine what it's going to feel like when it's his dick and not just his fingers.
"'m not gonna break," Jon says thickly, and his hips are shifting restlessly now as he arches back into Spencer's touch, demanding, and Spencer can't say no. Jon is even more pliable than normal in this state, and Spencer shifts them both around until they're comfortable, waits till Jon says, "Yeah, that's good, that'll work, please, now," and Spencer moves, lets his hands bracket Jon's hips, and then he's inside him, and a whole lot of really overblown prose about "hot" and "tight" and "oh Jesus fucking Christ" suddenly makes a lot more immediate sense.
"Oh god," Spencer says, and leans in to kiss Jon, hard and fast, and then Jon bites at his lip and says "Spencer," kind of desperately, which Spencer translates as "move, please," and does, which seems to be the right approach. Jon's eyes flutter closed and he's moving with Spencer, making encouraging little noises that are mostly breathy vowel sounds, hands clenching tight into the sheets, pulling them out of shape.
It feels good, so good, and Spencer kind of thinks that if he's not careful his eyes are going to cross from the sheer pleasure overload, and then they're going to stick that way (and no one wants a cross-eyed drummer, that's not even remotely badass), and then Jon does something, rolling his hips up a little as his body tightens around Spencer. Spencer makes an embarrassing sound of his own and clutches harder at Jon, vaguely feeling like he wants to make sure Jon comes first or something, and oh, right, he can actually help with that, can't he, so he wraps one hand loosely around Jon's dick and jerks him off, finding a rhythm fast, so that Jon is whining under him, shaking apart, and Spencer lasts an entirely respectable minute and a half longer before coming himself, making one last breathless choked sound into Jon's shoulder as he does.
They pull apart slowly, carefully, and make a cursory effort to clean up, but neither of them has really got the energy left to make it to the shower right then anyway, and so instead Spencer just reaches down to pull the blankets over them, curling into Jon's warmth.
"You're gonna bitch so much when we wake up," Jon murmurs, running blunt nails lightly across Spencer's shoulder blades, aimless circles. "We're kind of messy."
Spencer just mumbles something indistinct in response, and tucks his face more emphatically into the pillow. "'s all right," he says, a second later with sleepy satisfaction, tucking the blanket right up under his chin and his palm under Jon's hip, "I just smell like you."
As vacations go, Spencer is more than happy with this one.
* * *
Claire: ... I bet Ryan and Jon steal road cones when they're high one day and then Spencer lectures Jon on how disappointed he is in his changing attitudes towards road safety, and he's trying to sound stern and disapproving but it's really hard to do when Jon's all slithering off the couch to grab at Spencer's hips and lean in to nuzzle his head against Spencer's thigh so he can look up at him and give him the high-powered puppy eyes because Jon kind of finds Spencer being grumpy or stern (or just faking it) stupidly hot and he's not above dragging Spencer down with him.
Kat: And Spencer almost wishes that Jon and Ryan were still kind of wary of each other, because them being friends = THEM DOING STUPID SHIT.
Claire: And while sometimes that's entertaining, mostly, other times he kind of actually does want to just whap them both upside the head. Besides, Ryan keeps dragging Jon off to talk about music or run over melody lines with him, and that's fine, Spencer is totally on board with them writing together (especially since eventually they might be able to do something awesome with a band - because he's heard Brendon singing, and once Ryan gets over dancing around him like an- a something with a sore foot, seriously, he's not the lyrics guy, whatever - then he is so pushing for Brendon to come in for vocals), but anyway, as good as that is and as understanding and considerate a boyfriend as Spencer is, sometimes he really really just needs Jon for important sex purposes. Frankly, as his best friend Ryan could stand to be a little more sympathetic.
* * *
Jon prods Spencer awake, early and abruptly, one morning in July. Spencer flails and buries his face in the pillow. Jon is undeterred. "Wake up, sleepyhead," he says cheerfully.
"Fuck off," Spencer tries to say, somewhat muffled by the pillow. Possibly he shouldn’t - sleepovers are still new for him and Jon - but it’s better that Jon learn sooner, rather than later, that Spencer Smith and mornings are not on good terms.
Jon is, however, remarkably tolerant of Spencer at his bitchiest. "Spence," he says, poking at Spencer’s shoulder again. "Spence, seriously, get up. There is coffee in the kitchen, and travel mugs, and we are going out to get free pancakes because you have been missing out all your life and you don’t even know it."
"Mrrrh," Spencer says into the pillow.
"And," Jon continues, "I will make it up to you later."
Spencer raises his head and blinks at Jon. "Promise me that you don’t think breakfast foods, free or not, count as making it up to me."
"I promise," Jon says. Spencer gets up.
* * *
Spencer’s still used to Vegas weather, because it feels totally normal and temperate to him, but Jon’s sweating and looks uncomfortable. They bump shoulders as they stand in a mall parking lot, in a lineup with a hundred strangers. "You’re the one who wanted to come," Spencer says, pitching his voice so Jon can hear him over the mediocre country band on the makeshift stage.
"It’s tradition," Jon says. "You can’t understand Calgary until you understand Stampede breakfasts."
Spencer doesn’t understand a place that basically shuts down for a week every year so that people can party and wear cowboy hats - and eat free pancakes - but he wants to understand Jon better.
They get cheap paper plates of mass-produced pancakes and fake maple syrup, and don’t even try to find a spot at the tables but go sit on the curb of the sidewalk, as far away from the band as they can get. "What do you think?" Jon asks.
"The pancakes are crap," Spencer says around a mouthful.
"No, I mean -" Jon makes a sweeping sort of gesture, mindful of the plate balanced on his knees.
"It’s-" It’s too early, yes, but it’s also… kind of nice, this huge group of people, laughing and having fun and apparently not caring that it’s cheesy as hell. "I see why you wanted to come," Spencer says.
Jon grins at him. "Now you can be a real Calgarian," he says, grinning.
That’s never really been one of Spencer’s ambitions, to belong in the place Ryan had blindly pointed to on a map ("I’m just going to leave," Ryan had said late one night when they were in high school, "pick the most random place I can think of and - leave," and Spencer didn’t care where they ended up, just knew he couldn’t let Ryan off loose into the world without a keeper), but he’s here now and it’s… kind of nice. Yeah. He leans into Jon’s side for a quick moment and steals the last bite of pancake.
***
Kat: Oh. my. god. I just realised what I want, which is Jon and Brendon tagging along with a bunch of bookstore people to karaoke and awesomeness ensuing.
Claire: That could be how Spencer gets to hear Brendon sing. And Ryan is just so, so sunk, because oh god, Brendon is adorable and kind of funny and he plays, like, five million instruments apparently and he has the prettiest eyes and Ryan is just- so screwed. It's so not fair.
Kat: Spencer will go to hang out but completely refuses to sing, except for how he sings along while other people are up there. And Brendon sings Don't Stop Believing because it's a law that someone has to, every time there's karaoke. And Gabe sings Gwen Stefani! Oh, and Jon would sing Counting Crows, and Spencer would fall just a little bit more. And it's not like he thinks Jon has the best voice there (hello, Brendon, and Gabe, and Greta), but he looks so fucking adorable and earnest and keeps looking at Spencer and giving him this smile that's kind of -- private, despite him being at the mic.
Claire: OMG WHAT WOULD GABE SING.
Kat: HOLLABACK GIRL OBVIOUSLY
Claire: He can sing multiple things, though. the apt of luuuv suggests Like A Virgin or some other 80s Madonna.
Kat: Would anyone sing Spice Girls? I fucking love singing Spice Girls.
Claire: God, I want RYAN to. Or BRENDON TO DRAG RYAN UP. TO SING WANNABE. while Ryan DIES ON THE SPOT. and Spencer does too but for ENTIRELY DIFFERENT REASONS.
Oh god, please tell me Jon and Spencer have inappropriate bathroom make-outs. And then they think someone's about to walk in so they spring apart all guilty-like and then go out to the corridor because, seriously, they really shouldn't do that there, and as a result, are the only people to see Brendon and Ryan's first actual kiss. (Ryan starts it, and both he and Brendon are kind of shocked by this later, but they're alone and Brendon won't stop talking and he has that mouth and Ryan just- can't remember why this was a bad idea anymore, because, god, Brendon feels so good all stumbling back against the wall and panting and staring wide-eyed at Ryan and touching his lower lip lightly with his thumb as if he can't believe it actually just happened.)
* * *
And then there's how Jon writes little songs for Spencer, or about him (he does one about "tiny slanty-hipped book-shelving sexy drummer guy" to the tune from Once, this one time, and Spencer isn't quite sure whether he's flattered or MORTIFIED), and he keeps just saying they're silly, but Ryan's been saving some of them quietly, because there's potential there. Then Jon takes to humming Broken-Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy at work, with this huge grin on his face, and Spencer just goes red every time he hears it and has to go hide on the counters.
* * *
Spencer refuses to admit how much he loves snuggling, or that anything he and Jon do could be described that way, and he will glare to death anyone who suggests it. But sometimes he and Jon sit on the couch and Jon's arm is around Spencer's shoulders and Spencer's head is resting against Jon's side, and Spencer's sure there's a more acceptable word to use because he refuses to accept "snuggling" but he isn't about to give it up.
* * *
So Jon has sort of a Thing for Spencer's neck. He can spend extraordinary lengths of time on it, kissing and licking and nipping while Spencer squirms under his hands. Spencer has ended up with some really spectacular hickies and keeps wishing he was Ryan and could get away with wearing scarves all the time, because as secretly thrilling as it is to go around with Jon's marks on him - he kind of really likes that part - it's getting embarrassing, the knowing looks and winks (fucking Gabe) he gets at work every time. Having said that- he definitely doesn't mind enough to get Jon to stop. Everyone's just jealous that none of them have a boyfriend as hot as Jon.
* * *
Jon comes back from work with a sore back from spending too much time bending over after hauling all his gear up a couple flights of stairs at their show the night before. When Spencer lets himself in - he and Jon exchanged keys a couple weeks back, it was stupidly adorable - to find Jon sacked out on his stomach on the couch, looking completely pathetic, all he can do is bring him some water and then perch over his hips and give him a back rub, strong hands working carefully up and down Jon's spine until he's a boneless sprawl of appreciative whimpers. Jon tries to get up, because Spencer's body is having the inevitable reaction to hearing Jon moan, but Spencer just smacks his arm and tells him not to fuck up his good work, while he wiggles off the couch to sit on the coffee table and jerk off where Jon can see him without moving.
Jon is really hard and breathing heavily by the time Spencer finishes, and groans when Spencer comes messily on his stomach. "Yeah?" he asks. Jon groans again. "Turn over," Spencer says breathlessly. Jon rolls onto his back, and Spencer slowly unzips his jeans and pulls them down with his boxers.
He goes down without any prompting or warning, and he's not exactly an expert yet - still sloppily enthusiastic - but it's so, so hot. Jon watches him, head propped up on the arm of the couch, and thinks that Spencer has never done this for anyone else. At that thought, he comes, too quickly to warn Spencer. He pulls off after a moment, throat working, and then grins and flops down to lie on Jon. "Hey, quit it," Jon murmurs, "you're going to fuck up my back again," and Spencer just laughs.
The next logical step is a hot shower, and Spencer gets hard again right away because a) he's nineteen and b) he's naked with Jon Walker. Jon doesn't, immediately, and smirks at Spencer when he starts rubbing up against Jon's thigh. "Hold on, I need a minute. Some of us aren't teenagers," he laughs. Spencer narrows his eyes and makes it his personal mission to get Jon on board as quickly as is humanly possible, Which is pretty quick, it turns out.
* * *
Spencer isn't used to having more than maybe a couple of beers, and Jon isn't really surprised when Spencer vastly overestimates his own tolerance and gets well and truly wasted the night Jon hosts a party. He's actually kind of a hilarious drunk, sloppy and loud and hugging anyone who stands still long enough. Jon's keeping an eye on him, and Brendon is sticking pretty close (possibly just because he likes being on the receiving end of the hugs, but Jon's comfortable with that - better him than Gabe; at least Brendon won't be copping a feel). Even Ryan's loosened up a bit, which for Ryan means he's in the corner, apparently trying to have an intense and serious conversation with Pete, who keeps laughing at inappropriate time.
Jon's only had a couple drinks, he wants to be clear-headed to make sure his various groups of friends, as well as Spencer's, are getting along okay. They are, possibly a little too okay - in hindsight, maybe putting Gabe and William in the same room wasn't his best idea ever.
Things are going pretty smoothly, though, generally. He's congratulating himself a little when Spencer sneaks up behind him, kisses his neck, and takes a fast grope.
(Or, from a certain point of view, a little earlier: "Spencer," Brendon says seriously, "Spencer, tequila is not your friend." Brendon is drinking a Capri Sun, and possibly making fun of Spencer.
But the tequila is leaving a nice warm buzz in Spencer's stomach that he's quite happy with, thank you very much, and he just smiles sunnily at Brendon - who is cute as a button, really, and should definitely go hang off of Ryan and make everyone happy, Spencer thinks - and decides to go find Jon again so he can be friendly with him as well as the tequila.
Brendon, who catches the latter half of this, just grins and grabs his camera, because the incriminating photos from this are gonna be awesome.)
"Jon," Spencer says, biting his ear a little too hard. "Jon, let's go into the bedroom, okay?"
His hand is toying with the waistband of Jon's jeans. Jon would very much like to say yes, but... no. "Spence, we can't," he says, trying to push Spencer's hands away. "Not now, okay? Later, though." He leans in to give him a quick kiss (there's a wolf-whistle at that, which could have come from basically anyone).
Spencer pouts, which is probably the cutest thing Jon has ever seen, when Jon firmly refuses to go any further - not in public, certainly not after having heard Greta and Vicky-T speculating about their relationship in embarrassingly graphic detail.
Luckily, Spencer is also a fairly pliant drunk, and lets Jon steer him towards the couch without resisting. He does try to pull Jon down with him, and he’s pretty fucking strong, but he’s also clumsy and Jon manages to evade him. "I’ll be back soon, okay?" he says, kissing Spencer on the top of the head and leaving him to chatter at Mikey.
He does mean to be back soon, but he is kind of forced to, like, talk to his friends at his own party, even though Spencer keeps pouting at him a little, and shooting him hot, heavy-lidded looks that make Jon very, very tempted to start kicking people out the door - literally, if he has to.
Though it’s too long for Jon’s patience, it actually doesn’t take long for people to catch on and start trickling out the door, many with knowing grins that Jon barely registers, some with wicked remarks that Jon wishes he could un-hear. Brendon and Ryan are unsurprisingly the last to leave. Brendon is talking to Jon -- distracting Jon - over by the door while Ryan is sitting next to Spencer and talking in serious, low tones. Jon thinks he should maybe be worried, but then Spencer laughs and kisses Ryan sloppily on the cheek, and it’s so adorable that Jon can’t really worry about it.
Also adorable is how Brendon and Ryan are holding hands as they leave, and Jon takes a moment to grin about it before looking back at Spencer, who is not grinning. Spencer’s eyes have gone dark and he’s licking his lips, and Jon sometimes can’t believe how incredibly hot his boyfriend is.
Jon sits down beside Spencer, who is pretty well sunk into the couch cushions, and puts a hand on Spencer’s leg, just because he can. "What did Ryan want?" he asks idly.
"Ryan doesn’t want you to take advantage of me in my vulnerable state," Spencer says, not sounding too worried about it.
"Um." Jon snatches his hand from Spencer’s leg, because he definitely doesn’t want to do that, except for how it sort of sums up what he wants to do. "Spence…"
Spencer grabs Jon’s hand and puts it back on his leg - significantly higher than Jon had placed it, actually. "Jon," he says seriously, then spoils it by grinning, and - wow, Spencer has the best smile in the world, Jon feels a little blinded by it, this close up. "Jon, I seriously, seriously don’t think you even could take advantage of me, okay?"
Jon’s fingers tighten reflexively on Spencer’s thigh. "No, but you’re not exactly yourself right now, and we don’t have to do anything -"
Spencer puts his hand over Jon’s and slides them up till it’s not really Spencer’s leg that Jon’s holding. "I promise," he says, not spoiling his tone with a grin this time, "I promise I am smart enough not to be in this situation with someone I don’t trust, and I know you wouldn’t do anything that you thought for a second I wouldn’t want, and, okay, just stay still, okay?" And then Spencer slides down the couch onto the floor, and, fuck, gets onto his knees and undoes Jon’s jeans.
Jon totally braces himself for a blowjob, but Spencer doesn’t really go for it, just cups Jon’s balls and rubs his face against Jon’s cock and, like, breathes on him. Jon gets really hard, really fast, but he knows he’s not going to come from this, he wants more, so he grabs Spencer’s shoulders and hauls him up so that he’s straddling Jon’s lap and so they can kiss while Jon struggles to pull Spencer’s jeans down. They won’t really go down further than his ass, not while his legs are stretched open over Jon’s, but it’s enough that they manage to line up their dicks and rut against each other while Spencer tries to hike Jon’s t-shirt up, and Jon clutches at Spencer’s soft hair.
It doesn’t take long for either of them to come, which isn’t very surprising, really. Spencer slumps down so that he’s breathing hotly onto Jon’s neck, and once Jon has calmed his own breathing, he maneuvers them to lie on the couch.
* * *
Brendon hasn't been drinking because he drove. He has a horrible purple minivan which he loves and everyone else pretends to hate, but mostly they love it too because it's just so convenient, having a friend with a van.
Ryan's a little tight-lipped in the car, and people have accused Brendon of being oblivious sometimes but he watches Ryan, and Ryan spends so much time blank-faced that even the smallest expressions come across like neon signs. "What's up, Ryan Ross?" Brendon asks, only taking little glances at Ryan, because he has to pay attention to the road.
"It's nothing," Ryan says. Ryan is a liar.
"No, hey," Brendon says beseechingly. "Ryan, come on, what's wrong?"
"I'm worried," Ryan admits, and then adds "about Spencer," like there was any possible doubt. Brendon makes an encouraging noise, and Ryan goes on. "He's not used to this, okay, and I don't want him getting hurt-" and then he trails off in a huff when Brendon starts laughing.
"Dude," Brendon says, trying not to laugh too hard as he pulls in front of Ryan's apartment building and parks. "Dude, have you even been paying attention? Jon's not going to hurt him, not in whatever way you think might happen. Jon is stupid in love with Spencer, and I'm pretty sure Spencer is stupid in love with Jon. And you need to sit back and laugh at them, because they won't always be this cute."
"They're not cute," Ryan mutters. He looks a little sullen, but gives up on that a moment later in the face of Brendon's skeptical-yet-disapproving look. "Okay, they are kind of cute."
Brendon grins at that. "Yeah, they are," he agrees, leaning in to kiss Ryan quickly. "And so are we."
--finis--