You're Never Fully Dressed (Without A Smile) [joncer, frerard, cash/singer, nc17]
Reread Part One.
*
“Oh my god, you had sex in the chair!” Brendon stares and Spencer’s eyes widen. “You said we weren’t allowed when I asked!”
“I did not,” Spencer replies shortly, turning away from where Brendon is staring at him, standing in the back room dressed in his pink scrubs and ten minutes away from their first patient of the day.
“You so did!” he exclaims, following Spencer out towards the front. “Please tell me it was with Jon.”
Spencer glares as he reaches the reception area, empty except for Gerard behind the counter, doodling a coffee cup on his sketchpad.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Spencer asks as the door opens and Singer comes loping in, looking tired and desperate for coffee. “You’re late again.”
Singer looks deflated and exhausted, so Spencer doesn’t push it too hard. After all, Brendon is currently leaning into his space and grinning at him.
“So did you finally ask him out?”
“No,” Spencer replies firmly, turning away and hoping to lose Brendon on the way to the exam room but it doesn’t work at all when Brendon just follows after.
“But you had sex in the chair!”
“Stop saying that,” Spencer snaps but Brendon isn’t discouraged as Spencer enters exam room one and checks the set-up.
“It’s true, though, whether or not you’ll tell me. I know all about these kinds of things.”
“What are you talking about?” Spencer asks. “It’s not like you ever have in the chair.”
Brendon hesitates for a second and Spencer’s eyes narrow.
“It’s not allowed,” he growls, but Brendon makes an indignant noise.
“You just did!”
Scowling, Spencer turns away from Brendon. “I did not ask Jon out.”
“Then what was with the sex?” Brendon demands, and Spencer knows he is never going to drop this. He’s like a dog with a bone, or rather a hygienist with gossip. Sighing, he knows he has to say something to get Brendon to at least go do his job.
“He asked me out,” Spencer says finally, and Brendon’s face lights up immediately.
“Did you say yes? Please say you said yes! Because if you didn’t, I’m calling up Jon and changing your answer.”
“What do you think I said?” Spencer snaps, adjusting the light hanging over the chair.
Brendon pauses. “I would say ‘no’, but you better have said yes.”
Rolling his eyes, Spencer does up the last button on his coat and frowns. “Yes, I said yes, okay?”
“Yay!” Brendon cries, hugging Spencer unexpectedly. “You’re not gonna die alone!”
“Thanks,” Spencer grumbles as Brendon squeezes him tighter. “But you might if you don’t get to work.”
Still beaming, Brendon detaches himself. “William’s ready in room three.”
“Great,” Spencer mutters to himself, glad when Brendon finally bounces away and he can get back to the routine.
*
“Tuesday at one thirty,” Gerard repeats, typing it into the computer, the phone cradled against his shoulder. “We’ll see you then, Mrs. Franklin.”
Hanging up the phone, he saves the appointment and minimizes the window. The waiting room has a few people in it, most staring aimlessly across the room and tapping their fingers boredly. Flipping open his sketchbook, Gerard flips past the page filled with doodles of blood-sucking coffee cups and the one vague sketch of a person to a clean page.
He really doesn’t know what he wants to draw, but he’s bored and there’s no one to talk to. Brendon is out front with the mailman guy again, attempting to get something other than ‘no’ out of him. Gerard really doesn’t know why he bothers.
Staring at his blank page, he doesn’t know what to do, and he’s saved as the phone rings again.
“Thanks for calling Simply Smiles, Dr. Spencer Smith dentistry,” he rattles off mechanically.
“Gerard!” A cheerful, and now all too familiar voice, comes through the receiver, and Gerard doesn’t sigh.
“Frank,” he says instead, fingers turning the pen over in his hands as he waits. Frank always seems to have a question for him nowadays, whether it’s his favorite kind of coffee, genre of movie, or color.
“I have one last question for you,” Frank says, and Gerard pauses.
“Last?”
“Yep,” Frank says, “and I’ll never call again.”
Gerard is sort of confused. He’s sort of gotten used to Frank calling, but he’d never tell anyone that, certainly not Mikey, who seems to be convinced that Frank wants to date him.
“Uh, okay,” he agrees slowly, wondering what it could be.
“If your house was burning down and you only had enough time to grab three things, what would they be?”
“What?” Gerard frowns at his sketchpad. It’s strange question and it doesn’t make sense, especially with the other questions Frank has asked in the past.
“Three things,” Frank repeats easily. “What would they be?”
“I-I don’t know,” Gerard says. “Why does it matter? If the house was burning down, wouldn’t I just want to get out of there alive?”
Glancing up, he sees the mailman leaving, Brendon waving after him, always happy no matter how many no’s he gets.
“Just answer it,” Frank replies. “What would you save?”
Gerard still doesn’t understand, but he sighs, biting his lip and turning his pen over again. “I guess I’d save my sketchbook, and my first edition comic books, and… well, I’d save Mikey if he was there.”
There’s silence for a moment and Gerard doesn’t really know what it means.
“I lied,” Frank says after a minute and Gerard frowns.
“What?”
“That wasn’t my last question.”
“It wasn’t?” Gerard asks uneasily. The door opens to the office and Brendon comes in, followed by Mikey. They’re talking about something, and Gerard feels a jump of panic as Mikey comes closer. Turning away in his chair, he hunches down a little.
“No,” Frank says simply. “I have one more, and this one’s kind of right or wrong question.”
Gerard doesn’t ask what that means because he doesn’t have time. Mikey is coming closer, and if he finds out who Gerard is talking to, he’ll never hear the end of it.
“There’s a new club opening on Saturday night and I’ve been doing the promoting for it, so I’ve got free passes to get in. It’s kind of an underground club, gonna have a few bands playing, and I was wondering if you’re not busy maybe you’d want to come with me?”
Mikey is almost to the counter, and Gerard doesn’t have time to think as he says. “Yeah, sure, okay.”
“Yeah?” The smile is obvious in Frank’s voice, and Gerard doesn’t think what it means.
“Yeah. That’s good,” he mumbles as Mikey stops at the counter, nodding at him and rummaging through the basket of gum. “Saturday.”
“Awesome,” Frank says on the other end, and Gerard hopes Mikey can’t hear him. “I’ll call you later about the details.”
“Okay, great. Bye.”
“Who was that?” Mikey asks as Gerard hangs up quickly and he unwraps a piece of gum.
“No one,” Gerard says quickly. “Just an appointment.”
As he pulls up the appointment document, he chances a glance at Mikey to see if he suspects, but he’s just chewing on his gum, and Gerard lets out a quiet breath as he looks back to the computer.
*
Spencer is not dreading Saturday night. He just wishes he’d thought more about this before saying yes. It’s days away, but he knows it’s coming, and Brendon has been pestering him non-stop about what he’s wearing and where they’re going, none of which Spencer knows.
In the end, he forbids Brendon from asking questions until it’s over, which makes Brendon pout and resign himself to trying to listen in on Spencer’s phone conversations, none of which are actually with Jon, and Spencer bars him from the office too.
Spencer is pretty sure his entire staff has spring fever or something very similar. Singer comes in looking tired and mumbles things about inconsiderate good-looking neighbors. Gerard doesn’t get phone calls anymore, but he does look extra nervous whenever Mikey comes in, as though Mikey will figure something out that he doesn’t want him to know. Spencer hasn’t asked.
Instead, he focuses on work because work is something he can focus on.
“Do you do anything but work, Dr. Smith?”
Spencer glances up as his patient speaks, squinting into the lamp.
“Do you do anything but talk, Pete?” Spencer replies, shoving a tongue depressor in Pete’s mouth. Pete is the one person Spencer know who has practically perfect teeth, but he still comes for regular check-ups, says he needs to keep them perfect.
“Yeh,” Pete replies around the stick in his mouth. “But I wathn’t athking me. I wath athking you.”
Sighing, Spencer takes the depressor out, setting it aside. “Why does it matter?”
“Because,” Pete says, struggling up even when Spencer pushes him back. “You’re a dentist. Dentists are suicidal.”
“That’s not true,” Spencer replies, but Pete shakes his head.
“My last dentist totally committed suicide.”
“Maybe it’s because he had you as a patient,” Spencer replies, and Pete isn’t offended at all. In fact, he laughs.
“I’m just saying. You look like you need to get laid.”
Spencer glances at him sharply, taking in Pete’s wide grin.
“Dude, relax! You’re gonna have a heart attack.”
“Thanks,” Spencer mutters, rolling his eyes. “Now, stop talking and put this in your mouth.”
He hands Pete the depressor and Pete’s grin widens. “Sure thing.”
If Spencer could choose his patients, he would.
*
Singer opens his eyes from where they’ve been squeezed shut for the past minute and stares up at the dark ceiling. The blinking red alarm clock on the table tells him that it’s well past one in the morning, but the loud rock music thudding through his bedroom wall tells him that Cash is still awake.
He even knows the song this time as he lies there, listening and thinking about tomorrow when he’ll drag himself into work and down an entire pot of coffee just to stay awake. He’ll get that look from Dr. Smith and Brendon will pat his shoulder encouragingly like he should know what to do.
He lies there another five minutes, listening as the song changes and the volume doesn’t go down.
It’s been hours, and the music just keeps going, and Alex can’t take it anymore.
Rolling out of bed, he pads to his front door, just barely remembering to grab his keys off the counter as he pulls open his front door and walks the thirty feet to Cash’s front door. There aren’t anywhere to put his keys as he’s clothed in only a pair of boxer shorts and a thin tee shirt, so he hooks the ring around his finger and bangs on the door three times before he can even stop himself.
He’s never gone to Cash’s apartment before, never even really had the courage to turn that way in the hallway past his own front door. Now, though, he’s standing outside of it in the least amount of clothing possible and determined to get at least one good night’s rest this week.
When nothing happens, he lifts his hand to bang again. He gets one knock in and the second lands on air as the door wrenches inward and he stumbles a little.
Cash is there, scratching the back of his neck and still fully clothed as if he doesn’t even have the intention of going to bed anytime soon. He blinks at Alex for a second, eyes sweeping down his clothes before his mouth quirks into almost a smirk.
“Yeah?” he asks slowly, and Alex glares, or tries to. It’s hard when Cash is smirking at him, ridiculously hot despite the fact that Alex hasn’t been able to sleep the past week because of him.
“Could you turn your music down?” Alex asks angrily. “You know I live, like, ten feet from you, and I can hear everything. And it’s two in the fucking morning!”
Cash doesn’t reply immediately, one hand lifting up to rest above his head against the doorframe, which brings up the edge of his shirt with it, and that does not help as Alex glances down. Shaking himself, he reminds himself that he is angry with Cash and his stupid music.
Cash licks his lips slowly, tilting his head and smirking at Alex. “You can hear everything?”
“Yes,” Alex replies, annoyed. “And some of us have work in the morning, and I can’t sleep with your stupid music playing all night.”
“I have work,” Cash offers, and Alex huffs.
“I mean real work not sitting behind some register in the mall.”
Cash pauses, his infernal smirk still there, and Alex sort of hates him for it. “How do you know where I work?”
A dull, pink flush rises on Alex’s cheeks, but he narrows his eyes anyway. “That’s not the point,” he mutters quickly. “Will you just turn your music down?”
Cash licks his lips again, and Alex tries not to stare, shaking himself and scowling when Cash shifts, hand still above his head as though he has every intention of staying right there and never turning down the volume.
“Do you listen in at the wall?” Cash asks instead and Alex frowns.
“What?”
“Said you could hear everything,” Cash offers with a shrug and his eyes dart down to Alex’s boxers, the faded green ones with snoopy on them. Alex shifts a little, embarrassed. He should have thought this through. “What have you heard?”
Alex frowns. “N-nothing,” he says. “Just your music, which is entirely too loud. But, I mean, if you didn’t bring home girls all the time, you wouldn’t have to turn it on. I know what you’re doing. I’m not stupid.”
“I don’t have a girl here right now,” Cash says with a smirk, and Alex sighs a little. This was a bad idea.
“So then you can turn your music off,” he tries to rationalize simply.
Cash hesitates. “I don’t think so,” he says after a minute and Alex just stares.
“How can you possibly be this much of an asshole?” he asks before he thinks about it, but Cash doesn’t look angry. “You have neighbors, neighbors who like sleep!”
Cash just smirks, taking his hand down finally, and the strip of skin goes away (thank god, Alex thinks). He’s biting his lip now and Alex doesn’t think that helps at all.
“I saw you the other day,” Cash says instead and Alex deflates. Obviously, Cash is never going to turn down the music and this was all just some horribly embarrassing scene. “In the hall. You work a lot.”
Alex stares. “Yeah, that’s why I need sleep.”
Cash shifts and ignores him. Alex feels uneasy under his smirk, wondering why he did this, why he can’t just escape, but he somehow finds himself standing in the doorway with Cash turning towards him, stuck so his back is against the frame and he can’t edge out.
“And at the dentist’s office. You work there, right?”
“Yeah,” he replies nervously as Cash boxes him in and oh god, he’s in trouble. He doesn’t know what kind of trouble, but trouble nonetheless.
Cash is still smirking like he knows some big inside joke that no one is telling Alex. “So if you’ve heard things, and you’ve seen things, then you’ve imagined things, right?”
“Huh?” Alex is a little scared now, and he’s not sure he can take being this close to Cash.
“Just what have you imagined because I’m pretty sure I-”
Cash is interrupted by another door opening across the hall. Alex looks over, desperate for some kind of interruption so he might be able to escape.
One of the other neighbors that he doesn’t know very well is standing there looking surly and annoyed.
“Dude, Cash, turn down the music. I like that shit when I’m awake not asleep.”
“Sure thing, Johnson,” Cash replies, and the neighbor disappears back in his apartment, and Cash turns back to Alex, who is staring at him.
“You’ll turn it down for him but not for me?” he demands. “You really are the biggest asshole I’ve ever me-”
Cash’s mouth cuts Alex off mid-sentence, pressed against his as they stand there in the hallway, the music leaking out from behind them.
Cash’s mouth is soft and Alex is sure he’s dreaming. He’s going to wake up to blaring rock music through his wall and it’ll all have been a very vivid hallucination. But Cash’s tongue is licking at his lips, pushing inside when he opens his mouth slowly, unsurely.
“What…” he mumbles around Cash’s mouth, completely confused. Pushing him away roughly, he glares. “What are you doing? You’re straight.”
Cash licks his lips again, wet and shiny now, and stares back at Alex. “I’m a guy,” he replies as though that should explain it all, and Alex frowns, but Cash is back, trying to kiss him again, and he shouldn’t let it happen because Cash is a jerk and doesn’t make any sense, but it feels good, and he’s wanted this for so long.
“You’re an asshole,” Alex breathes when Cash pulls away, and Cash laughs.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “But I sure as hell get what I want.” He smirks and the dark spark in his eyes sends a shiver down Alex’s spine. Cash leans in closer, thumb brushing down his jaw slowly. “You should, uh, come inside because if Johnson comes back out, it won’t be pretty.”
Alex frowns and doesn’t move, but Cash practically pulls him in anyway.
“I like your outfit, by the way,” Cash says as the door closes and he grabs a remote off the little table, pointing it at the stereo, and the volume finally goes down. “Easy access.”
Alex tries to glare, but Cash pushes him back against the kitchen counter and sticks his tongue in his mouth, and he finds it harder to, keys dropping from his hand as he wraps his arms around Cash’s neck.
He’ll pick them up later.
*
Saturday comes far too quickly for Spencer and the day seems to just fly by. Brendon spends the whole time pestering him about his date, finally weaseling it out of him that he plans to wear his black jeans and a his nice blue shirt.
“It’ll bring out your eyes,” Brendon says knowledgeably and Spencer rolls his eyes, pushing up his reading glasses and filling out forms.
On his way out of the office, he passes Gerard who is staring blankly at the computer screen and jumps when he says goodnight.
“Uh, yeah, bye,” Gerard says quickly and Spencer pauses.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Gerard says again, too quickly. “Is it really Saturday?”
“Yeah,” Spencer agrees slowly. “You sure everything’s fine?”
Gerard sighs at the computer and glances at the clock. It’s quarter past five and he should already be gone.
“Yeah, I guess,” he mutters, glancing at Spencer. “Your thing with Jon is tonight, right?”
“Yeah,” Spencer admits, leaning against the counter. “You think it’s a good idea, right? Going out with Jon?”
Gerard pauses but shrugs. “If you like him,” he offers unhelpfully. “But then, what if you don’t, or what if he does and you don’t know it? Then what do you do? Do you tell him you like him? Or is that too stupid? Maybe I shouldn’t go…”
“Go where?”
“What?” Gerard looks up suddenly, eyes landing on Spencer as if just realizing what he said. “Nothing. Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sure, tomorrow,” Spencer agrees, still curious, but Gerard is grabbing his jacket, and Spencer should already be at home changing, so he doesn’t pry and heads out the door, the bell jingling behind him.
At home, he hangs up his white coat quickly and pulls out his jeans, the ones that look nicer than the rest, and his button-down blue shirt. He spends entirely too much time messing with his hair when he tells himself that nothing is really going to come from this dinner. He’s going to tell Jon that it’s a bad idea and they should just maintain their professional relationship.
He’s been thinking about it, this past week, and he knows deep down that getting involved with a patient is a bad idea, even if the patient is Jon, the guy Spencer has spent the past week thinking about, thinking about that weird flutter he gets when Jon smiles at him. But no, it can’t go any further than it has.
At the knock on the front door, Spencer finally leaves his bathroom and weaves through the house to the front door. He’s going to tell Jon tonight that they can’t continue this. Really.
He pulls the door open and his stomach bursts into flutters as Jon is there, a smile on his face and a single white rose in his hand.
“Hey,” Jon greets him easily, holding out the rose.
Taking the rose slowly, Spencer pauses. Maybe they can. “Hi,” he says after a second. “Should we go?”
“Yeah,” Jon agrees, and Spencer sets the rose down on the inside table, grabbing his jacket from the coat closet, and following Jon down to his car parked on the sidewalk.
Spencer’s neighborhood is nice and quiet and the street lights are flickering on already as he gets in the car and tries to remind himself again why he and Jon can’t do this, but Jon slides in the other side, and Spencer notices another white rose bud in the cup holder. Tearing his eyes away, he focuses on Jon, who starts the car and pulls away from the curb.
Jon looks nice, wearing slacks and a green shirt. His fingers tap out the rhythm of the song on the radio as they drive, and he glances over as Spencer remains silent.
“You’re not freaking out about what happened last week, are you?”
“You mean when we had sex in my chair?” he asks. Glancing over, Spencer pauses, mind flitting to exam room number two, the feel of Jon’s hands skimming over his hips, his mouth brushing over his skin, and he shakes himself.
Jon smiles slowly, looking back at the road. “Yeah, that. ‘Cause I had fun.”
Fun. There was that word again. Swallowing, Spencer glances out the window at the houses flashing past, a park rolling by.
“And fun is great,” Jon continues, chancing glances at Spencer every now and again. “But I mean, I’m not twenty anymore, you know?”
Spencer nods slowly. “I can’t believe I got to be this old.”
“You’re not that old,” Jon says with a fond smile, but Spencer shakes his head.
“I’m twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight, and I’ve had the same best friend for the past ten years, but sometimes it feels so empty.”
“It’s not empty,” Jon assures him, and when he reaches over, hand sliding to Spencer’s thigh, Spencer catches himself from doing anything stupid like tensing or gasping. “And if it is, you’ve just got to fill it up.”
Spencer tears his eyes from Jon’s hand, and Jon takes it back after a second as they head to the restaurant.
*
Gerard can’t believe he said yes. What was he thinking? He doesn’t know Frank, and what if Frank doesn’t even like him and this is some weird pity thing? Gerard knows he isn’t very special. He’s a receptionist at a dentist’s office for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t do anything spectacular and there’s no reason why someone like Frank, an awesome club promoter would want to date him.
The club is sort of an underground thing, dark and smoky, and the guy at the front door gives Gerard a deep, searching look as if he’s somehow lying about his name on the list. He gets in, though, although Gerard sort of wishes he hadn’t, and then he could go back home. But almost immediately after he steps through the door, Frank appears, grinning and bouncing on his toes.
“Hey!” he calls over the noise inside, reaching out for Gerard’s arm and pulling him through the crowd towards the bar where it’s a little quieter. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Yeah,” Gerard mutters, more to himself than anything.
Frank looks different today with his hair styled up and a shiny lip ring in. His short sleeves reveal a lot more tattoos than Gerard has ever seen and he catches himself staring a few times as Frank orders him a drink.
“Uh, is this…” Gerard asks as Frank hands him something that look suspiciously like alcohol. “I kinda don’t drink.”
Frank looks surprised, but he takes it back right away. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“No, it’s nothing,” Gerard says jerkily. “I just don’t anymore. Some bad things.”
“It’s totally okay,” Frank reassures him, handing him a bottle of water instead. “It’s kinda nice.”
“Yeah?” Gerard asks, surprised, and Frank grins at him, hand already on his arm again, and Gerard can feel the warm press of Frank’s fingers into his skin.
“Come on, you can meet the band.”
Gerard doesn’t protest as Frank leads him through the crowd, saying something about the club design and how the owner was extremely picky. Gerard is hardly listening, though, too focused on the way Frank keeps grinning at him, that bright, beaming smile that Gerard has only seen on a few patients, and it surprises him every time.
“You like underground music?” Frank asks as they reach the stage where the band is setting up.
“That’s more of Mikey’s area,” Gerard admits as Frank pulls him forward, a hand brushing against his back, and Gerard lets out a nervous breath. He doesn’t really know what he feels about Frank, and Frank touching him all the time is not helping.
Frank nods along. “He seems the type.” He pauses, glancing at Gerard. “You guys are really close, aren’t you?”
Gerard shrugs, watching the lead singer tweak the mic. “Yeah. I kinda didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. Mikey’s always been there.”
Frank is watching him when he glances over but Frank smiles when he looks. “That’s awesome. I always wished I had a brother.”
“They can be annoying too,” Gerard assures him and Frank laughs, hand on his arm again as he nudges him forward.
“Here,” he says into Gerard’s ear over the noise, “I’ll introduce you to the band.”
Gerard nods along, but when Frank moves forward to get the attention of the band, he’s still thinking of Frank’s breath warm against his ear and how he’s not sure if he should have liked that as much as he does.
*
The restaurant isn’t really fancy, and Spencer is glad. He hates when people go to fancy restaurants and pretend they do all the time while really they usually end up eating fast food while sitting in their car and staring out at a dark park somewhere.
This is a nice place, though, not too big, not too small, not too fancy, and Spencer really shouldn’t be focusing on the restaurant when Jon is sitting across from him fiddling with his fork and telling Spencer about his two cats.
“I get the feeling,” Jon says after they’ve gotten their food and Spencer is poking at his vegetables uninterestedly. He looks up when Jon speaks, though, setting his fork down. “That you don’t really want to be here.”
“No,” Spencer says slowly, although he’s not sure which is more true. “I do, I think. It’s just that don’t you think we should maintain a professional relationship? Mixing business and pleasure always has bad results.”
Jon pauses, frowning slightly, but he leans over the table when Spencer’s eyes drop to his plate and his uneaten green beans. He doesn’t reach for Spencer’s hand, but pushes his hair aside slowly, and Spencer looks up.
“I could always get another dentist,” he offers, “although I kinda like you. They’re just teeth.”
“But there’s a line,” Spencer replies, tries to insist. No one ever seems to understand the line.
“I can’t see it,” Jon admits. “And if there was, I’m pretty sure Brendon erased it.”
Spencer has to agree with that as he sighs and pushes his vegetables around. Jon ignores that.
“So aside from that, do you want to be here?”
“Yeah,” Spencer admits finally, licking his lips and glancing up from his plate. “You’re better than some of my patients.”
“Oh, thanks,” Jon says, grinning. “Glad to hear I’m better than some.”
“You know what I mean,” Spencer says, huffing slightly, but he smiles when Jon does. Maybe Brendon was right about Jon. But he’ll never tell Brendon that.
*
“What do you think?” Frank’s voice is loud in Gerard’s ear and he can feel the warm rush of air brushing against his skin as they stand near the back where it’s less crowded. The band is playing full tilt and it appears to be a good club opening from all that Gerard knows about them.
Frank hasn’t left his side except a few times when he’s been called away by work. He’s mostly stayed with Gerard, and they’ve talked about everything from comics to vampires and even Mikey’s love of unicorns. If it is a date, which Gerard still isn’t sure about, it’s going pretty well as dates go.
“You want something else to drink?” Frank asks as they lean against the back counter. “A soda or something?”
“I’m fine,” Gerard assures him, watching the band play.
“Having fun?” Frank asks and Gerard can feel Frank’s arm pressed up against his as some people jostle past, but Frank doesn’t move away when they’re gone. Instead, he stays close to Gerard, who nods jerkily.
“Yeah. Th-the band is good.”
“They are,” Frank agrees, still pressed against Gerard, and it might be just him, but it’s getting a little warm in the club as they stand there. He feels Frank shift, turning more towards him, and he swallows down his pattering heart. The lights reflect off Frank’s lip ring and Gerard tenses as Frank leans forward.
“Oh, shit,” he breathes suddenly, and Frank pauses.
“What?”
“Mikey,” Gerard breathes, eyes wide, and he wonders if there’s anywhere he can hide, but it’s too late; Mikey has already spotted him, and Gerard is so screwed when he starts coming over, slipping between the crowd and appearing in front of them.
“Gerard,” Mikey says and Gerard can already see the thoughts formulating behind his glasses as he glances between Gerard and Frank, who just smiles at Mikey.
“Hey, Mikey, didn’t know you’d be here,” Frank says cheerfully, like it’s perfectly normal that Gerard’s brother would show up everywhere Gerard is.
Mikey nods vaguely. “Came for the band,” he replies, eyes still on Gerard. “What are you two doing here?”
He doesn’t talk to Gerard, and Gerard groans internally. No matter what he tells Mikey later, he will have already made up his mind about Gerard and Frank.
“I did the promotion,” Frank replies easily. “And I invited Gerard along.”
Mikey nods again, eyes flicking to Gerard as he pushes up his glasses slowly. “You have fun then.”
“Okay,” Frank agrees, and turns back to Gerard as Mikey vanishes into the crowd. “That was a little weird.”
Gerard nearly groans as Mikey leaves, but instead he just sighs. “Now he’s gonna think we’re on a date or something.”
Frank glances at him, a curious expression on his face. “We are.”
“No, we’re not,” Gerard argues stupidly. “We’re at a club.”
“Yeah,” Frank agrees slowly. “We’re here together, alone, and I asked you to come.”
“But it’s not a date,” Gerard insists, and Frank almost rolls his eyes. Gerard can see it and it doesn’t make him feel better.
“It is a date,” Frank corrects him, shuffling forward. “I bought you a drink, introduced you to the band, argued that Batman is the best comic book hero ever, and later when you leave, I’m going to kiss you whether you think it’s date or not.”
Gerard stares. Frank is close enough to kiss already but he doesn’t move. “But it’s not-”
“Yeah, it is,” Frank interrupts him. “Maybe we should just skip to the end if you need some more convincing.”
Gerard doesn’t argue although he’d like to a little more when Frank steps up, cupping his face and leaning forward. It’s a soft kiss, easy and simple, and Gerard’s eyes close for half a second as they stand there, loud music playing around them and the babble of people talking over it, but he can’t hear it when Frank pulls away and smiles at him.
“Is it a date?”
Gerard blinks and looks around quickly for Mikey, but he’s nowhere to be found. “Maybe, yeah,” he admits finally, and Frank rolls his eyes fondly and pulls him in for another kiss that Gerard wouldn’t stop if he wanted to.
*
All the streetlights are on as Spencer stands on his front porch with Jon. Identical pools of orange light pepper the street and Spencer looks up at his own porch light.
Jon stands there as Spencer unlocks his front door and turns to him.
“So…” Spencer says finally, wondering if he should invite Jon in or not, and Jon smiles softly and takes a step forward.
“You know what I like most about you?” Jon asks and Spencer tucks his keys away, opening the door slightly.
“What’s that?”
“That you like smiles.”
Jon leans in and Spencer meets him for a soft kiss. He doesn’t reach for Jon yet, but when Jon pulls away, he takes a second to open his eyes.
“And that your hygienist eats more sugar than all your patients combined.”
Spencer laughs slightly, licking his lips and pushing the door open further. “You want to come in?” he asks after a minute and Jon meets his eyes for a second before he nods.
“Sure,” he says, and Spencer leads the way inside, clicking on the light in the entrance hall and shutting the door behind Jon.
“You want something to drink?” Spencer asks, feeling somehow nervous even though this isn’t the first time he’s ever had a date over. “I’ve got water or soda or beer or-” Turning to Jon, he stops. Jon is watching Spencer and he smiles when Spencer stops.
“I’m good, really,” he assures him, coming closer. “So you’re sure you had a good time tonight?”
“Yeah,” Spencer replies. “It was fun.”
“I’m glad because I did.”
Spencer doesn’t know why he’s so nervous when Jon reaches for him, hand sliding around his waist and pulling him forward. He goes easily, hands resting against Jon’s shoulders as there’s a pause and then Jon kisses him.
It’s harder than out on the porch, but Jon isn’t pushing it, and Spencer’s glad, glad he can take the initiative to pull Jon closer and deepen the kiss, tilting his head to the side and biting Jon’s bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth as they stand there in the dim hallway light.
“We should go,” Spencer says in between kisses as Jon’s hand slides further down, skating over his ass, the other inching under the hem of his shirt. “Bedroom.”
“No chairs this time?” Jon jokes, but Spencer doesn’t reply, pulling Jon’s hand away from his side and leading him back through the house. “You have a nice place,” Jon comments as they go, but Spencer ignores him.
The bedroom is in the back, and Spencer doesn’t bother turning on the overhead light as they get inside. He flicks on a lamp by the bed and comes back to Jon, leaning around him to shut the door. When he goes to move back, Jon catches him, walking him back towards the bed, noses bumping together.
“I’ve been thinking about this since last week,” Jon murmurs, kissing him softly, mouth trailing down his jaw as they hit the bed and Spencer falls backwards. Jon climbs on with him, brushing back his hair and kissing below his ear. “Hell, I’ve been thinking about this since the first time I had my teeth cleaned.”
“Why did you wait so long then?” Spencer breathes, spreading his legs as Jon settles in between them. He can feel Jon’s hands fiddling with the buttons to his shirt while his mouth tattoos kisses down his throat.
“Why did you?” Jon counters, and Spencer’s eyes shut, hands sliding to Jon’s hair as Jon pushes at his shirt, getting it open and sucking on his nipple. He’s rewarded when Spencer gasps and arches up.
“Fuck,” Spencer breathes instead, tugging on Jon’s hair.
Jon’s mouth is amazing, Spencer decides, as Jon slides further down, undoing Spencer’s jeans and biting at his hipbone.
Spencer is half-hard already, and it only takes Jon’s hot breath feathering over his skin to take it all the way. Swallowing hard, he glances down. Jon is pushing his knees further apart, licking at his inner thigh, and Spencer’s mind goes fuzzy when Jon’s mouth is sliding around the head of his cock.
“Jon,” he groans as Jon’s hand wraps around the base and strokes slowly. “Wait.”
“Hmm?” Jon hums, mouth halfway around his cock, and it feels so fucking good, but Spencer forces himself to focus. He doesn’t want to come like this but he will if he’s not careful. He’s already so on edge, and Jon’s tongue sliding around his prick is not helping.
“Wait,” he says again, forcing Jon to slide off and back up.
“What?” Jon asks when he’s back up to Spencer’s level. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Spencer breathes, shaking his head. “Nothing, I just don’t want this over so soon.”
Jon smirks slowly. “It won’t be, Spence, promise.”
Spencer wants to protest, but Jon kisses him deeply, pushing him down against the bed. He takes the opportunity to pin Spencer’s arms above his head, and Spencer gives him a look as he pulls away.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Spencer points out, pulling an arm away and smoothing a hand over Jon’s collar, leaning up into him for a kiss, catching his bottom lip and pulling until Jon releases his other arm and he goes for the hem of his shirt.
When Jon’s clothes are all gone, Jon nudges Spencer back against the bed, knee knocking Spencer’s back apart.
“Do you have stuff?” Jon asks, dipping into Spencer’s neck and sucking a bruise into the skin. Spencer’s eyes flutter shut and he doesn’t reply for a minute.
“Second drawer,” he gasps when Jon’s hips push down and he can feel all of Jon, hard and pushing against him. He almost doesn’t want Jon to go when he reaches over, pulling away to rummage in the drawer. When he comes back, Spencer ruts up against him.
“Thought you didn’t want this over soon,” Jon says, laughing, but it sticks in his throat when Spencer grinds up, wrapping a leg around Jon and pulling him in closer.
“Just want it,” Spencer mumbles back, reaching for the condom and tearing it open. “Com’ere.”
Jon shifts up, arms bracing him on either side of Spencer as Spencer reaches down, stroking Jon’s cock a few times, watching Jon’s face change, but then Jon leans down, mouth brushing over Spencer’s throat and he can’t see anymore.
“Come on, Spence,” Jon murmurs, tongue flicking over his skin and pushing into Spencer’s grip.
“Okay, okay,” Spencer breathes, rolling the condom on Jon and reaching for the lube. It’s a half-empty bottle, and the top flips open with a little pop.
“You want me to?” Jon asks, scooting back and pushing Spencer’s knees up.
Spencer nods quickly, handing Jon the lube and stretching back against the sheets. In the dim light, he can watch Jon coat his fingers, jerking his own prick a few times as he shifts into position. The lube is tossed to the side and Spencer’s body tenses at Jon’s fingers tracing his entrance lightly.
“You ready?” Jon murmurs, and Spencer nods again, hands searching out Jon’s hips and pulling him in flush.
His skin is hot already and the blood in his cock is pulsing, and Spencer is pretty sure he’s not going to last long as soon as Jon starts, but he bites his lip and closes his eyes as Jon presses the first finger in. It doesn’t hurt, and Spencer pushes back against it carefully, feeling Jon rub inside, pushing in a second finger after a minute.
“Shit, yes,” Spencer breathes as Jon pushes his fingers in, fucking him slowly until he’s whimpering and pushing at him. “Jon.”
Jon’s cock is much bigger than his fingers, but Spencer doesn’t protest when he pushes in, slowly at first, careful to watch Spencer, but Spencer’s panting breaths lessen and he nods at the ceiling.
“More, Jon, come on,” he says breathlessly, fingers pressing bruises into Jon’s hips, and Jon doesn’t say anything back, just presses in all the way until Spencer gasps for air and shifts to adjust.
It feels amazing, and Spencer just needs to hold on as Jon starts to move.
“Spence,” Jon grunts as his hips thrust in, shallow at first and then deeper, pushing Spencer’s knees up higher.
Spencer whimpers once as Jon hits the right spot, sending tremors through his body, and he arches up with him. Things are hot and slippery when Jon reaches for Spencer’s prick, jerking him off quickly. Spencer bites his lip against his gasps as he feels the hot tightening in his stomach.
“Jon,” he whispers as Jon thrusts in, hips snapping forward, and Spencer’s head falls back as Jon pulls on his cock and he feels the coil of heat explode and he comes, riding a high, lightheaded and dizzy as he comes down, legs slipping from over Jon’s shoulder, but Jon pushes them back up. “Jon.”
“Yeah,” Jon breathes, panting against Spencer’s temple as he leans forward, hot breath feathered over his sweaty skin. “Fuck.”
When Jon comes, Spencer can almost feel it. He sees Jon push forward, feels his fingers tighten over his hips, the kiss pressed against his jaw, a groan against his skin followed by panted breath as Jon slides down.
“Too soon?” Jon breathes after a second, rolling off of Spencer, but Spencer follows, pressing a kiss to his jaw, tracing down the scruff, scratchy against his fingers. Rubbing his nose against Jon’s cheek, he sighs.
“No.”
“We could always go again,” Jon offers, and Spencer can hear the smile.
“Maybe in a minute,” he murmurs instead and smiles as Jon hums contentedly next to him.
*
“What are we doing?” Alex asks as he stares up at Cash’s ceiling, identical to his except for the water stain in the corner and the poster of Carmen Electra taped over the bed. Alex frowns at it for a second as Cash shifts, rolling on top of him, leg sliding in between his, and Alex wonders how many times in one night is considered excessive.
“I thought maybe your parents had taught you about the birds and the bees,” Cash drawls, mouth dipping down to Alex’s shoulder, biting at the skin as Alex pushes at him, annoyed.
“I mean, why are we doing this?” he asks instead because even if he actually has what he wants, sort of, he doesn’t understand why.
“Do you always talk this much?” Cash asks, tongue flicking over his shoulder blade as he slides lower.
Alex tries to be annoyed, but Cash is doing that thing with his tongue that always makes him weak in the knees and he can’t remember the point he was trying to make. Shaking himself, he reaches for Cash, dragging him up and staring at his shiny mouth.
“You can’t just randomly kiss me one day and not expect me to want to know why. Am I just another of your whores?”
Cash stares for a second and then smirks, reaching down to wrap his hand around Alex’s cock. Alex jumps at the unexpected touch and sort of hates Cash.
“You’re too pretty to be a whore,” he replies and Alex musters up the meanest glare he can.
“You’re a jerk,” he snaps, pulling away from Cash and reaching for his jeans on the floor. Cash watches him go for a second, still spread out naked on the bed.
Alex has already lost count of how many times they’ve had sex since that first night. If he thinks about it, he does feel a little like a cheap whore, an overeager teenager, and it doesn’t make him feel any better about this. He should have gone with his first instinct: that Cash is an asshole incapable of real emotions aside from desire. And now he’s somehow involved with him and he doesn’t know why.
“Oh, come on,” Cash says and there’s laughter in his voice, but Alex huffs and pulls his jeans up. It gets caught on his foot, though, and he hops around for a second until he falls ungracefully back on the bed. Huffing again, he wrenches the other leg up and ignores Cash behind him. “It’s fun.”
“Yeah, well, I’d like to know why it’s fun,” Alex snaps.
Cash smirks, sliding in behind him, and Alex can feel the warmth of his body pressing against him. He doesn’t let it affect him, though, as he pulls on his socks.
“Because I may be an asshole, but you’re a little bitch.”
Alex’s mouth falls open as he turns to glare at Cash, but Cash smirks and pounces, pulling Alex down until he’s trapped underneath him.
“Get off me,” Alex growls, pushing fruitlessly at Cash’s arms, but Cash is a bit bigger than him and his weight pins him down easily.
Cash looks like the cat that got the cream as he sits on top of him, smirking down, and there’s that same dark glint as the first night in his eyes. It makes Alex nervous.
“We’re doing this because we want to,” Cash explains finally. “Because you don’t hide your jealousy very well, and because you have a great ass.”
Alex stares. “What are you talking about?”
Cash laughs and shakes his head. “You hate those girls I come home with, don’t you? You want to strangle them in their sleep. I’ve heard you bang on the wall before.”
“You-you,” Alex tries to say. “I don’t. I-I’m not. You just sleep around too much and play your music too loud, and I happen to live next door. You’ve ignored me for the past year since I moved in! Why the fuck did you kiss me then? And why are we here right now? I have better things I could be doing.”
“Like sleeping?” Cash offers and Alex glares. He can’t believe he actually likes Cash, despite all his asshole nature and cocky smirk. Cash shifts, and Alex tenses as he feels Cash’s hardened cock pressing against him. It takes a second, but Cash sighs finally. “You’re not a whore, alright? And neither were the other girls, for that matter. But you were so jealous of them, and you just can’t admit it. You wanted me and you didn’t know how.”
Alex just wants to leave but he can’t move, and Cash is watching him, waiting.
“Fine,” he says finally. “Maybe I was jealous, whatever, but that doesn’t explain anything.”
“Sure it does,” Cash allows, shifting again, and Alex sucks in a breath as Cash rocks forward. “People always want things they can’t have.” He watches as Alex’s eyes flutter shut at another grind, but Alex wrenches them open a second later. “And sometimes things they can.”
Cash is a jerk and an asshole and a bastard, but god, he’s a good kisser is all Alex can think when Cash leans down, and despite all those things, Alex still likes him, and he suspects that somewhere, under the tramp and too-loud-playing-music guy, he actually has a soul, and Alex will find it… later.
*
Spencer wakes up on Sunday morning warm and content. The room is light but it’s cloudy outside as Spencer peeks through the curtains. Rolling over in bed, he pauses as he catches sight of the other side.
Jon is still asleep, sheets tangled around his legs, and Spencer hides his smile as he watches him for a second.
The clock tells him that it’s still early, but he does have work in a few hours. It’s the first time in several years that Spencer actually wishes he didn’t have to work on the weekends, but it’s not as though he can call in sick to his own practice.
He doesn’t wake Jon as he slips from the bed, grabbing the nearest pair of clean boxers and shuffling into the bathroom. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he lets his fingers drift over the red marks on his neck and dreads Brendon seeing them.
Sighing, he reaches for his electronic toothbrush and flips it on.
This is where Jon finds him just minutes later, scrubbing at his teeth, and he pauses in the doorway to the bathroom, smiling at Spencer in the mirror and watching as Spencer freezes, turning to him.
He takes the toothbrush from his mouth slowly. “I’m really not this neurotic, I swear.”
Jon laughs, coming in and wrapping his arms around Spencer’s waist.
“I just have to go to work in an hour,” Spencer continues, and Jon lets him rinse and turn back, wiping his mouth off with a clean towel.
“Morning,” Jon says instead of replying, and Spencer smiles slowly.
“Hi.”
“Work?” Jon asks after a second and Spencer sighs.
“Yeah.” He tries to pull away from Jon, but Jon doesn’t let him go. “I have to get ready.”
“You could call in sick,” Jon suggests, nuzzling Spencer’s neck. “Dentists have sick days, right?”
“Yeah,” Spencer allows slowly, “but it means canceling and rescheduling a ton of appointments.”
“Which is why you have a receptionist,” Jon adds, smiling when Spencer huffs.
“I can’t, Jon,” he says, squirming as Jon’s hands dip below the waist of his boxer.
“I know.” Jon sighs, pulling Spencer in closer. “But it’s fun to imagine.” His mouth is pressed against Spencer’s pulse, sliding up, breathing in the scent of his hair, and Spencer’s eyes close slowly. It feels good, and for a second he really does consider just skipping work, but he reminds himself, he has responsibilities, and he can’t drop them all for sex.
“But I can’t,” Spencer mumbles when Jon kisses him, fingers inching under his boxers.
“Then we should make the most of the time we have,” Jon suggests. “Don’t you need to shower?”
Spencer pauses, eyeing Jon suspiciously, but Jon gives him an innocent smile. “If I’m late because of you, it won’t be pretty.”
Jon grins. “We better hurry then,” he says, pulling Spencer flush against him and kissing him. And if Spencer’s a little late, no one will say anything anyway. It’s his practice after all.
*
“Date me, Ryan Ross.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Ryan glances at Brendon’s pink scrubs as he fits the letters into the slot.
“You’re wearing pink.”
“You wear blue.”
Ryan pauses and Brendon grins.
“Say yes, Ryan Ross.”
Ryan still pauses but Brendon widens his eyes, and he shrugs finally.
“Yes.”
Brendon grins triumphantly. “Yes! I knew it.”
As Brendon waves Ryan away in his truck, he bounces back inside with the mail, dumping it on Gerard’s desk with a grin.
“He said yes,” Brendon announces happily, and Gerard doesn’t reply. He’s too busy working on his latest drawing, one of Frank’s many tattoos covers the page, and he ignores as Brendon bounces away, clearly just intent on telling as many people as possible whether or not they care.
Brendon practically runs into Singer as he bounces into the back.
“Singer!” he cries happily, and Singer looks confused. “How’s your neighbor?”
Singer goes a little red and mutters something about the loud music growing on him, but Brendon is already gone down the hall towards Spencer’s office.
“Spencer!” he calls as he bursts in the door and Spencer arches an annoyed eyebrow at the intrusion. Brendon opens his mouth to speak but as he stares at Spencer, his expression changes to a huge grin and Spencer scowls already. “You had sex! Again!”
Groaning, Spencer rises from his chair. “We really don’t need to talk about it,” he says as he brushes past Brendon, but Brendon doesn’t let him escape. Instead, he grabs Spencer into a bone-crushing hug and Spencer gasps for air, trying to get free.
“You did! I’m so happy for you! I knew Jon was the one, and you just had to see that!”
Struggling away, Spencer scowls. “Thanks, now will you get to work?”
Brendon beams. “Sure thing, doc.”
Sighing, Spencer leaves Brendon and heads out to the front office where Gerard is frowning at his computer as Mikey talks to him.
“It was so a date.”
“No,” Gerard argues back, but a light blush tinges his cheeks and he busies himself with the paperclips on the desk.
Mikey pauses, pushing his glasses up, and then he shrugs. “Whatever, Gee, but it was. When are you seeing him again?”
Gerard doesn’t reply and Mikey smirks, digging in the gum basket.
Moving from the doorway, Spencer steps into the reception area. Gerard’s head snaps up and he looks relieved to find him there.
“Who’s next?” he asks and watches Mikey unwrap the piece of gum and stick it in his mouth.
“Bobby Flahey’s back, chipped a tooth falling off the playground,” Gerard replies.
“Send him back to room three,” Spencer says and Gerard nods. He turns to Mikey. “Stop stealing gum.”
Mikey doesn’t reply, and Spencer watches little Bobby Flahey and his mother tromp back to the exam room. Gerard avoids looking at Mikey and carefully closes the sketchbook on Frank’s tattoo.
It doesn’t take long for Spencer to hear an “Ow!” coming from exam room three and he smirks to himself, leaving Mikey and Gerard behind. It’s going to be a good day.
*
FIN.
*
“Oh my god, you had sex in the chair!” Brendon stares and Spencer’s eyes widen. “You said we weren’t allowed when I asked!”
“I did not,” Spencer replies shortly, turning away from where Brendon is staring at him, standing in the back room dressed in his pink scrubs and ten minutes away from their first patient of the day.
“You so did!” he exclaims, following Spencer out towards the front. “Please tell me it was with Jon.”
Spencer glares as he reaches the reception area, empty except for Gerard behind the counter, doodling a coffee cup on his sketchpad.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Spencer asks as the door opens and Singer comes loping in, looking tired and desperate for coffee. “You’re late again.”
Singer looks deflated and exhausted, so Spencer doesn’t push it too hard. After all, Brendon is currently leaning into his space and grinning at him.
“So did you finally ask him out?”
“No,” Spencer replies firmly, turning away and hoping to lose Brendon on the way to the exam room but it doesn’t work at all when Brendon just follows after.
“But you had sex in the chair!”
“Stop saying that,” Spencer snaps but Brendon isn’t discouraged as Spencer enters exam room one and checks the set-up.
“It’s true, though, whether or not you’ll tell me. I know all about these kinds of things.”
“What are you talking about?” Spencer asks. “It’s not like you ever have in the chair.”
Brendon hesitates for a second and Spencer’s eyes narrow.
“It’s not allowed,” he growls, but Brendon makes an indignant noise.
“You just did!”
Scowling, Spencer turns away from Brendon. “I did not ask Jon out.”
“Then what was with the sex?” Brendon demands, and Spencer knows he is never going to drop this. He’s like a dog with a bone, or rather a hygienist with gossip. Sighing, he knows he has to say something to get Brendon to at least go do his job.
“He asked me out,” Spencer says finally, and Brendon’s face lights up immediately.
“Did you say yes? Please say you said yes! Because if you didn’t, I’m calling up Jon and changing your answer.”
“What do you think I said?” Spencer snaps, adjusting the light hanging over the chair.
Brendon pauses. “I would say ‘no’, but you better have said yes.”
Rolling his eyes, Spencer does up the last button on his coat and frowns. “Yes, I said yes, okay?”
“Yay!” Brendon cries, hugging Spencer unexpectedly. “You’re not gonna die alone!”
“Thanks,” Spencer grumbles as Brendon squeezes him tighter. “But you might if you don’t get to work.”
Still beaming, Brendon detaches himself. “William’s ready in room three.”
“Great,” Spencer mutters to himself, glad when Brendon finally bounces away and he can get back to the routine.
*
“Tuesday at one thirty,” Gerard repeats, typing it into the computer, the phone cradled against his shoulder. “We’ll see you then, Mrs. Franklin.”
Hanging up the phone, he saves the appointment and minimizes the window. The waiting room has a few people in it, most staring aimlessly across the room and tapping their fingers boredly. Flipping open his sketchbook, Gerard flips past the page filled with doodles of blood-sucking coffee cups and the one vague sketch of a person to a clean page.
He really doesn’t know what he wants to draw, but he’s bored and there’s no one to talk to. Brendon is out front with the mailman guy again, attempting to get something other than ‘no’ out of him. Gerard really doesn’t know why he bothers.
Staring at his blank page, he doesn’t know what to do, and he’s saved as the phone rings again.
“Thanks for calling Simply Smiles, Dr. Spencer Smith dentistry,” he rattles off mechanically.
“Gerard!” A cheerful, and now all too familiar voice, comes through the receiver, and Gerard doesn’t sigh.
“Frank,” he says instead, fingers turning the pen over in his hands as he waits. Frank always seems to have a question for him nowadays, whether it’s his favorite kind of coffee, genre of movie, or color.
“I have one last question for you,” Frank says, and Gerard pauses.
“Last?”
“Yep,” Frank says, “and I’ll never call again.”
Gerard is sort of confused. He’s sort of gotten used to Frank calling, but he’d never tell anyone that, certainly not Mikey, who seems to be convinced that Frank wants to date him.
“Uh, okay,” he agrees slowly, wondering what it could be.
“If your house was burning down and you only had enough time to grab three things, what would they be?”
“What?” Gerard frowns at his sketchpad. It’s strange question and it doesn’t make sense, especially with the other questions Frank has asked in the past.
“Three things,” Frank repeats easily. “What would they be?”
“I-I don’t know,” Gerard says. “Why does it matter? If the house was burning down, wouldn’t I just want to get out of there alive?”
Glancing up, he sees the mailman leaving, Brendon waving after him, always happy no matter how many no’s he gets.
“Just answer it,” Frank replies. “What would you save?”
Gerard still doesn’t understand, but he sighs, biting his lip and turning his pen over again. “I guess I’d save my sketchbook, and my first edition comic books, and… well, I’d save Mikey if he was there.”
There’s silence for a moment and Gerard doesn’t really know what it means.
“I lied,” Frank says after a minute and Gerard frowns.
“What?”
“That wasn’t my last question.”
“It wasn’t?” Gerard asks uneasily. The door opens to the office and Brendon comes in, followed by Mikey. They’re talking about something, and Gerard feels a jump of panic as Mikey comes closer. Turning away in his chair, he hunches down a little.
“No,” Frank says simply. “I have one more, and this one’s kind of right or wrong question.”
Gerard doesn’t ask what that means because he doesn’t have time. Mikey is coming closer, and if he finds out who Gerard is talking to, he’ll never hear the end of it.
“There’s a new club opening on Saturday night and I’ve been doing the promoting for it, so I’ve got free passes to get in. It’s kind of an underground club, gonna have a few bands playing, and I was wondering if you’re not busy maybe you’d want to come with me?”
Mikey is almost to the counter, and Gerard doesn’t have time to think as he says. “Yeah, sure, okay.”
“Yeah?” The smile is obvious in Frank’s voice, and Gerard doesn’t think what it means.
“Yeah. That’s good,” he mumbles as Mikey stops at the counter, nodding at him and rummaging through the basket of gum. “Saturday.”
“Awesome,” Frank says on the other end, and Gerard hopes Mikey can’t hear him. “I’ll call you later about the details.”
“Okay, great. Bye.”
“Who was that?” Mikey asks as Gerard hangs up quickly and he unwraps a piece of gum.
“No one,” Gerard says quickly. “Just an appointment.”
As he pulls up the appointment document, he chances a glance at Mikey to see if he suspects, but he’s just chewing on his gum, and Gerard lets out a quiet breath as he looks back to the computer.
*
Spencer is not dreading Saturday night. He just wishes he’d thought more about this before saying yes. It’s days away, but he knows it’s coming, and Brendon has been pestering him non-stop about what he’s wearing and where they’re going, none of which Spencer knows.
In the end, he forbids Brendon from asking questions until it’s over, which makes Brendon pout and resign himself to trying to listen in on Spencer’s phone conversations, none of which are actually with Jon, and Spencer bars him from the office too.
Spencer is pretty sure his entire staff has spring fever or something very similar. Singer comes in looking tired and mumbles things about inconsiderate good-looking neighbors. Gerard doesn’t get phone calls anymore, but he does look extra nervous whenever Mikey comes in, as though Mikey will figure something out that he doesn’t want him to know. Spencer hasn’t asked.
Instead, he focuses on work because work is something he can focus on.
“Do you do anything but work, Dr. Smith?”
Spencer glances up as his patient speaks, squinting into the lamp.
“Do you do anything but talk, Pete?” Spencer replies, shoving a tongue depressor in Pete’s mouth. Pete is the one person Spencer know who has practically perfect teeth, but he still comes for regular check-ups, says he needs to keep them perfect.
“Yeh,” Pete replies around the stick in his mouth. “But I wathn’t athking me. I wath athking you.”
Sighing, Spencer takes the depressor out, setting it aside. “Why does it matter?”
“Because,” Pete says, struggling up even when Spencer pushes him back. “You’re a dentist. Dentists are suicidal.”
“That’s not true,” Spencer replies, but Pete shakes his head.
“My last dentist totally committed suicide.”
“Maybe it’s because he had you as a patient,” Spencer replies, and Pete isn’t offended at all. In fact, he laughs.
“I’m just saying. You look like you need to get laid.”
Spencer glances at him sharply, taking in Pete’s wide grin.
“Dude, relax! You’re gonna have a heart attack.”
“Thanks,” Spencer mutters, rolling his eyes. “Now, stop talking and put this in your mouth.”
He hands Pete the depressor and Pete’s grin widens. “Sure thing.”
If Spencer could choose his patients, he would.
*
Singer opens his eyes from where they’ve been squeezed shut for the past minute and stares up at the dark ceiling. The blinking red alarm clock on the table tells him that it’s well past one in the morning, but the loud rock music thudding through his bedroom wall tells him that Cash is still awake.
He even knows the song this time as he lies there, listening and thinking about tomorrow when he’ll drag himself into work and down an entire pot of coffee just to stay awake. He’ll get that look from Dr. Smith and Brendon will pat his shoulder encouragingly like he should know what to do.
He lies there another five minutes, listening as the song changes and the volume doesn’t go down.
It’s been hours, and the music just keeps going, and Alex can’t take it anymore.
Rolling out of bed, he pads to his front door, just barely remembering to grab his keys off the counter as he pulls open his front door and walks the thirty feet to Cash’s front door. There aren’t anywhere to put his keys as he’s clothed in only a pair of boxer shorts and a thin tee shirt, so he hooks the ring around his finger and bangs on the door three times before he can even stop himself.
He’s never gone to Cash’s apartment before, never even really had the courage to turn that way in the hallway past his own front door. Now, though, he’s standing outside of it in the least amount of clothing possible and determined to get at least one good night’s rest this week.
When nothing happens, he lifts his hand to bang again. He gets one knock in and the second lands on air as the door wrenches inward and he stumbles a little.
Cash is there, scratching the back of his neck and still fully clothed as if he doesn’t even have the intention of going to bed anytime soon. He blinks at Alex for a second, eyes sweeping down his clothes before his mouth quirks into almost a smirk.
“Yeah?” he asks slowly, and Alex glares, or tries to. It’s hard when Cash is smirking at him, ridiculously hot despite the fact that Alex hasn’t been able to sleep the past week because of him.
“Could you turn your music down?” Alex asks angrily. “You know I live, like, ten feet from you, and I can hear everything. And it’s two in the fucking morning!”
Cash doesn’t reply immediately, one hand lifting up to rest above his head against the doorframe, which brings up the edge of his shirt with it, and that does not help as Alex glances down. Shaking himself, he reminds himself that he is angry with Cash and his stupid music.
Cash licks his lips slowly, tilting his head and smirking at Alex. “You can hear everything?”
“Yes,” Alex replies, annoyed. “And some of us have work in the morning, and I can’t sleep with your stupid music playing all night.”
“I have work,” Cash offers, and Alex huffs.
“I mean real work not sitting behind some register in the mall.”
Cash pauses, his infernal smirk still there, and Alex sort of hates him for it. “How do you know where I work?”
A dull, pink flush rises on Alex’s cheeks, but he narrows his eyes anyway. “That’s not the point,” he mutters quickly. “Will you just turn your music down?”
Cash licks his lips again, and Alex tries not to stare, shaking himself and scowling when Cash shifts, hand still above his head as though he has every intention of staying right there and never turning down the volume.
“Do you listen in at the wall?” Cash asks instead and Alex frowns.
“What?”
“Said you could hear everything,” Cash offers with a shrug and his eyes dart down to Alex’s boxers, the faded green ones with snoopy on them. Alex shifts a little, embarrassed. He should have thought this through. “What have you heard?”
Alex frowns. “N-nothing,” he says. “Just your music, which is entirely too loud. But, I mean, if you didn’t bring home girls all the time, you wouldn’t have to turn it on. I know what you’re doing. I’m not stupid.”
“I don’t have a girl here right now,” Cash says with a smirk, and Alex sighs a little. This was a bad idea.
“So then you can turn your music off,” he tries to rationalize simply.
Cash hesitates. “I don’t think so,” he says after a minute and Alex just stares.
“How can you possibly be this much of an asshole?” he asks before he thinks about it, but Cash doesn’t look angry. “You have neighbors, neighbors who like sleep!”
Cash just smirks, taking his hand down finally, and the strip of skin goes away (thank god, Alex thinks). He’s biting his lip now and Alex doesn’t think that helps at all.
“I saw you the other day,” Cash says instead and Alex deflates. Obviously, Cash is never going to turn down the music and this was all just some horribly embarrassing scene. “In the hall. You work a lot.”
Alex stares. “Yeah, that’s why I need sleep.”
Cash shifts and ignores him. Alex feels uneasy under his smirk, wondering why he did this, why he can’t just escape, but he somehow finds himself standing in the doorway with Cash turning towards him, stuck so his back is against the frame and he can’t edge out.
“And at the dentist’s office. You work there, right?”
“Yeah,” he replies nervously as Cash boxes him in and oh god, he’s in trouble. He doesn’t know what kind of trouble, but trouble nonetheless.
Cash is still smirking like he knows some big inside joke that no one is telling Alex. “So if you’ve heard things, and you’ve seen things, then you’ve imagined things, right?”
“Huh?” Alex is a little scared now, and he’s not sure he can take being this close to Cash.
“Just what have you imagined because I’m pretty sure I-”
Cash is interrupted by another door opening across the hall. Alex looks over, desperate for some kind of interruption so he might be able to escape.
One of the other neighbors that he doesn’t know very well is standing there looking surly and annoyed.
“Dude, Cash, turn down the music. I like that shit when I’m awake not asleep.”
“Sure thing, Johnson,” Cash replies, and the neighbor disappears back in his apartment, and Cash turns back to Alex, who is staring at him.
“You’ll turn it down for him but not for me?” he demands. “You really are the biggest asshole I’ve ever me-”
Cash’s mouth cuts Alex off mid-sentence, pressed against his as they stand there in the hallway, the music leaking out from behind them.
Cash’s mouth is soft and Alex is sure he’s dreaming. He’s going to wake up to blaring rock music through his wall and it’ll all have been a very vivid hallucination. But Cash’s tongue is licking at his lips, pushing inside when he opens his mouth slowly, unsurely.
“What…” he mumbles around Cash’s mouth, completely confused. Pushing him away roughly, he glares. “What are you doing? You’re straight.”
Cash licks his lips again, wet and shiny now, and stares back at Alex. “I’m a guy,” he replies as though that should explain it all, and Alex frowns, but Cash is back, trying to kiss him again, and he shouldn’t let it happen because Cash is a jerk and doesn’t make any sense, but it feels good, and he’s wanted this for so long.
“You’re an asshole,” Alex breathes when Cash pulls away, and Cash laughs.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “But I sure as hell get what I want.” He smirks and the dark spark in his eyes sends a shiver down Alex’s spine. Cash leans in closer, thumb brushing down his jaw slowly. “You should, uh, come inside because if Johnson comes back out, it won’t be pretty.”
Alex frowns and doesn’t move, but Cash practically pulls him in anyway.
“I like your outfit, by the way,” Cash says as the door closes and he grabs a remote off the little table, pointing it at the stereo, and the volume finally goes down. “Easy access.”
Alex tries to glare, but Cash pushes him back against the kitchen counter and sticks his tongue in his mouth, and he finds it harder to, keys dropping from his hand as he wraps his arms around Cash’s neck.
He’ll pick them up later.
*
Saturday comes far too quickly for Spencer and the day seems to just fly by. Brendon spends the whole time pestering him about his date, finally weaseling it out of him that he plans to wear his black jeans and a his nice blue shirt.
“It’ll bring out your eyes,” Brendon says knowledgeably and Spencer rolls his eyes, pushing up his reading glasses and filling out forms.
On his way out of the office, he passes Gerard who is staring blankly at the computer screen and jumps when he says goodnight.
“Uh, yeah, bye,” Gerard says quickly and Spencer pauses.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Gerard says again, too quickly. “Is it really Saturday?”
“Yeah,” Spencer agrees slowly. “You sure everything’s fine?”
Gerard sighs at the computer and glances at the clock. It’s quarter past five and he should already be gone.
“Yeah, I guess,” he mutters, glancing at Spencer. “Your thing with Jon is tonight, right?”
“Yeah,” Spencer admits, leaning against the counter. “You think it’s a good idea, right? Going out with Jon?”
Gerard pauses but shrugs. “If you like him,” he offers unhelpfully. “But then, what if you don’t, or what if he does and you don’t know it? Then what do you do? Do you tell him you like him? Or is that too stupid? Maybe I shouldn’t go…”
“Go where?”
“What?” Gerard looks up suddenly, eyes landing on Spencer as if just realizing what he said. “Nothing. Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sure, tomorrow,” Spencer agrees, still curious, but Gerard is grabbing his jacket, and Spencer should already be at home changing, so he doesn’t pry and heads out the door, the bell jingling behind him.
At home, he hangs up his white coat quickly and pulls out his jeans, the ones that look nicer than the rest, and his button-down blue shirt. He spends entirely too much time messing with his hair when he tells himself that nothing is really going to come from this dinner. He’s going to tell Jon that it’s a bad idea and they should just maintain their professional relationship.
He’s been thinking about it, this past week, and he knows deep down that getting involved with a patient is a bad idea, even if the patient is Jon, the guy Spencer has spent the past week thinking about, thinking about that weird flutter he gets when Jon smiles at him. But no, it can’t go any further than it has.
At the knock on the front door, Spencer finally leaves his bathroom and weaves through the house to the front door. He’s going to tell Jon tonight that they can’t continue this. Really.
He pulls the door open and his stomach bursts into flutters as Jon is there, a smile on his face and a single white rose in his hand.
“Hey,” Jon greets him easily, holding out the rose.
Taking the rose slowly, Spencer pauses. Maybe they can. “Hi,” he says after a second. “Should we go?”
“Yeah,” Jon agrees, and Spencer sets the rose down on the inside table, grabbing his jacket from the coat closet, and following Jon down to his car parked on the sidewalk.
Spencer’s neighborhood is nice and quiet and the street lights are flickering on already as he gets in the car and tries to remind himself again why he and Jon can’t do this, but Jon slides in the other side, and Spencer notices another white rose bud in the cup holder. Tearing his eyes away, he focuses on Jon, who starts the car and pulls away from the curb.
Jon looks nice, wearing slacks and a green shirt. His fingers tap out the rhythm of the song on the radio as they drive, and he glances over as Spencer remains silent.
“You’re not freaking out about what happened last week, are you?”
“You mean when we had sex in my chair?” he asks. Glancing over, Spencer pauses, mind flitting to exam room number two, the feel of Jon’s hands skimming over his hips, his mouth brushing over his skin, and he shakes himself.
Jon smiles slowly, looking back at the road. “Yeah, that. ‘Cause I had fun.”
Fun. There was that word again. Swallowing, Spencer glances out the window at the houses flashing past, a park rolling by.
“And fun is great,” Jon continues, chancing glances at Spencer every now and again. “But I mean, I’m not twenty anymore, you know?”
Spencer nods slowly. “I can’t believe I got to be this old.”
“You’re not that old,” Jon says with a fond smile, but Spencer shakes his head.
“I’m twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight, and I’ve had the same best friend for the past ten years, but sometimes it feels so empty.”
“It’s not empty,” Jon assures him, and when he reaches over, hand sliding to Spencer’s thigh, Spencer catches himself from doing anything stupid like tensing or gasping. “And if it is, you’ve just got to fill it up.”
Spencer tears his eyes from Jon’s hand, and Jon takes it back after a second as they head to the restaurant.
*
Gerard can’t believe he said yes. What was he thinking? He doesn’t know Frank, and what if Frank doesn’t even like him and this is some weird pity thing? Gerard knows he isn’t very special. He’s a receptionist at a dentist’s office for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t do anything spectacular and there’s no reason why someone like Frank, an awesome club promoter would want to date him.
The club is sort of an underground thing, dark and smoky, and the guy at the front door gives Gerard a deep, searching look as if he’s somehow lying about his name on the list. He gets in, though, although Gerard sort of wishes he hadn’t, and then he could go back home. But almost immediately after he steps through the door, Frank appears, grinning and bouncing on his toes.
“Hey!” he calls over the noise inside, reaching out for Gerard’s arm and pulling him through the crowd towards the bar where it’s a little quieter. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Yeah,” Gerard mutters, more to himself than anything.
Frank looks different today with his hair styled up and a shiny lip ring in. His short sleeves reveal a lot more tattoos than Gerard has ever seen and he catches himself staring a few times as Frank orders him a drink.
“Uh, is this…” Gerard asks as Frank hands him something that look suspiciously like alcohol. “I kinda don’t drink.”
Frank looks surprised, but he takes it back right away. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“No, it’s nothing,” Gerard says jerkily. “I just don’t anymore. Some bad things.”
“It’s totally okay,” Frank reassures him, handing him a bottle of water instead. “It’s kinda nice.”
“Yeah?” Gerard asks, surprised, and Frank grins at him, hand already on his arm again, and Gerard can feel the warm press of Frank’s fingers into his skin.
“Come on, you can meet the band.”
Gerard doesn’t protest as Frank leads him through the crowd, saying something about the club design and how the owner was extremely picky. Gerard is hardly listening, though, too focused on the way Frank keeps grinning at him, that bright, beaming smile that Gerard has only seen on a few patients, and it surprises him every time.
“You like underground music?” Frank asks as they reach the stage where the band is setting up.
“That’s more of Mikey’s area,” Gerard admits as Frank pulls him forward, a hand brushing against his back, and Gerard lets out a nervous breath. He doesn’t really know what he feels about Frank, and Frank touching him all the time is not helping.
Frank nods along. “He seems the type.” He pauses, glancing at Gerard. “You guys are really close, aren’t you?”
Gerard shrugs, watching the lead singer tweak the mic. “Yeah. I kinda didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. Mikey’s always been there.”
Frank is watching him when he glances over but Frank smiles when he looks. “That’s awesome. I always wished I had a brother.”
“They can be annoying too,” Gerard assures him and Frank laughs, hand on his arm again as he nudges him forward.
“Here,” he says into Gerard’s ear over the noise, “I’ll introduce you to the band.”
Gerard nods along, but when Frank moves forward to get the attention of the band, he’s still thinking of Frank’s breath warm against his ear and how he’s not sure if he should have liked that as much as he does.
*
The restaurant isn’t really fancy, and Spencer is glad. He hates when people go to fancy restaurants and pretend they do all the time while really they usually end up eating fast food while sitting in their car and staring out at a dark park somewhere.
This is a nice place, though, not too big, not too small, not too fancy, and Spencer really shouldn’t be focusing on the restaurant when Jon is sitting across from him fiddling with his fork and telling Spencer about his two cats.
“I get the feeling,” Jon says after they’ve gotten their food and Spencer is poking at his vegetables uninterestedly. He looks up when Jon speaks, though, setting his fork down. “That you don’t really want to be here.”
“No,” Spencer says slowly, although he’s not sure which is more true. “I do, I think. It’s just that don’t you think we should maintain a professional relationship? Mixing business and pleasure always has bad results.”
Jon pauses, frowning slightly, but he leans over the table when Spencer’s eyes drop to his plate and his uneaten green beans. He doesn’t reach for Spencer’s hand, but pushes his hair aside slowly, and Spencer looks up.
“I could always get another dentist,” he offers, “although I kinda like you. They’re just teeth.”
“But there’s a line,” Spencer replies, tries to insist. No one ever seems to understand the line.
“I can’t see it,” Jon admits. “And if there was, I’m pretty sure Brendon erased it.”
Spencer has to agree with that as he sighs and pushes his vegetables around. Jon ignores that.
“So aside from that, do you want to be here?”
“Yeah,” Spencer admits finally, licking his lips and glancing up from his plate. “You’re better than some of my patients.”
“Oh, thanks,” Jon says, grinning. “Glad to hear I’m better than some.”
“You know what I mean,” Spencer says, huffing slightly, but he smiles when Jon does. Maybe Brendon was right about Jon. But he’ll never tell Brendon that.
*
“What do you think?” Frank’s voice is loud in Gerard’s ear and he can feel the warm rush of air brushing against his skin as they stand near the back where it’s less crowded. The band is playing full tilt and it appears to be a good club opening from all that Gerard knows about them.
Frank hasn’t left his side except a few times when he’s been called away by work. He’s mostly stayed with Gerard, and they’ve talked about everything from comics to vampires and even Mikey’s love of unicorns. If it is a date, which Gerard still isn’t sure about, it’s going pretty well as dates go.
“You want something else to drink?” Frank asks as they lean against the back counter. “A soda or something?”
“I’m fine,” Gerard assures him, watching the band play.
“Having fun?” Frank asks and Gerard can feel Frank’s arm pressed up against his as some people jostle past, but Frank doesn’t move away when they’re gone. Instead, he stays close to Gerard, who nods jerkily.
“Yeah. Th-the band is good.”
“They are,” Frank agrees, still pressed against Gerard, and it might be just him, but it’s getting a little warm in the club as they stand there. He feels Frank shift, turning more towards him, and he swallows down his pattering heart. The lights reflect off Frank’s lip ring and Gerard tenses as Frank leans forward.
“Oh, shit,” he breathes suddenly, and Frank pauses.
“What?”
“Mikey,” Gerard breathes, eyes wide, and he wonders if there’s anywhere he can hide, but it’s too late; Mikey has already spotted him, and Gerard is so screwed when he starts coming over, slipping between the crowd and appearing in front of them.
“Gerard,” Mikey says and Gerard can already see the thoughts formulating behind his glasses as he glances between Gerard and Frank, who just smiles at Mikey.
“Hey, Mikey, didn’t know you’d be here,” Frank says cheerfully, like it’s perfectly normal that Gerard’s brother would show up everywhere Gerard is.
Mikey nods vaguely. “Came for the band,” he replies, eyes still on Gerard. “What are you two doing here?”
He doesn’t talk to Gerard, and Gerard groans internally. No matter what he tells Mikey later, he will have already made up his mind about Gerard and Frank.
“I did the promotion,” Frank replies easily. “And I invited Gerard along.”
Mikey nods again, eyes flicking to Gerard as he pushes up his glasses slowly. “You have fun then.”
“Okay,” Frank agrees, and turns back to Gerard as Mikey vanishes into the crowd. “That was a little weird.”
Gerard nearly groans as Mikey leaves, but instead he just sighs. “Now he’s gonna think we’re on a date or something.”
Frank glances at him, a curious expression on his face. “We are.”
“No, we’re not,” Gerard argues stupidly. “We’re at a club.”
“Yeah,” Frank agrees slowly. “We’re here together, alone, and I asked you to come.”
“But it’s not a date,” Gerard insists, and Frank almost rolls his eyes. Gerard can see it and it doesn’t make him feel better.
“It is a date,” Frank corrects him, shuffling forward. “I bought you a drink, introduced you to the band, argued that Batman is the best comic book hero ever, and later when you leave, I’m going to kiss you whether you think it’s date or not.”
Gerard stares. Frank is close enough to kiss already but he doesn’t move. “But it’s not-”
“Yeah, it is,” Frank interrupts him. “Maybe we should just skip to the end if you need some more convincing.”
Gerard doesn’t argue although he’d like to a little more when Frank steps up, cupping his face and leaning forward. It’s a soft kiss, easy and simple, and Gerard’s eyes close for half a second as they stand there, loud music playing around them and the babble of people talking over it, but he can’t hear it when Frank pulls away and smiles at him.
“Is it a date?”
Gerard blinks and looks around quickly for Mikey, but he’s nowhere to be found. “Maybe, yeah,” he admits finally, and Frank rolls his eyes fondly and pulls him in for another kiss that Gerard wouldn’t stop if he wanted to.
*
All the streetlights are on as Spencer stands on his front porch with Jon. Identical pools of orange light pepper the street and Spencer looks up at his own porch light.
Jon stands there as Spencer unlocks his front door and turns to him.
“So…” Spencer says finally, wondering if he should invite Jon in or not, and Jon smiles softly and takes a step forward.
“You know what I like most about you?” Jon asks and Spencer tucks his keys away, opening the door slightly.
“What’s that?”
“That you like smiles.”
Jon leans in and Spencer meets him for a soft kiss. He doesn’t reach for Jon yet, but when Jon pulls away, he takes a second to open his eyes.
“And that your hygienist eats more sugar than all your patients combined.”
Spencer laughs slightly, licking his lips and pushing the door open further. “You want to come in?” he asks after a minute and Jon meets his eyes for a second before he nods.
“Sure,” he says, and Spencer leads the way inside, clicking on the light in the entrance hall and shutting the door behind Jon.
“You want something to drink?” Spencer asks, feeling somehow nervous even though this isn’t the first time he’s ever had a date over. “I’ve got water or soda or beer or-” Turning to Jon, he stops. Jon is watching Spencer and he smiles when Spencer stops.
“I’m good, really,” he assures him, coming closer. “So you’re sure you had a good time tonight?”
“Yeah,” Spencer replies. “It was fun.”
“I’m glad because I did.”
Spencer doesn’t know why he’s so nervous when Jon reaches for him, hand sliding around his waist and pulling him forward. He goes easily, hands resting against Jon’s shoulders as there’s a pause and then Jon kisses him.
It’s harder than out on the porch, but Jon isn’t pushing it, and Spencer’s glad, glad he can take the initiative to pull Jon closer and deepen the kiss, tilting his head to the side and biting Jon’s bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth as they stand there in the dim hallway light.
“We should go,” Spencer says in between kisses as Jon’s hand slides further down, skating over his ass, the other inching under the hem of his shirt. “Bedroom.”
“No chairs this time?” Jon jokes, but Spencer doesn’t reply, pulling Jon’s hand away from his side and leading him back through the house. “You have a nice place,” Jon comments as they go, but Spencer ignores him.
The bedroom is in the back, and Spencer doesn’t bother turning on the overhead light as they get inside. He flicks on a lamp by the bed and comes back to Jon, leaning around him to shut the door. When he goes to move back, Jon catches him, walking him back towards the bed, noses bumping together.
“I’ve been thinking about this since last week,” Jon murmurs, kissing him softly, mouth trailing down his jaw as they hit the bed and Spencer falls backwards. Jon climbs on with him, brushing back his hair and kissing below his ear. “Hell, I’ve been thinking about this since the first time I had my teeth cleaned.”
“Why did you wait so long then?” Spencer breathes, spreading his legs as Jon settles in between them. He can feel Jon’s hands fiddling with the buttons to his shirt while his mouth tattoos kisses down his throat.
“Why did you?” Jon counters, and Spencer’s eyes shut, hands sliding to Jon’s hair as Jon pushes at his shirt, getting it open and sucking on his nipple. He’s rewarded when Spencer gasps and arches up.
“Fuck,” Spencer breathes instead, tugging on Jon’s hair.
Jon’s mouth is amazing, Spencer decides, as Jon slides further down, undoing Spencer’s jeans and biting at his hipbone.
Spencer is half-hard already, and it only takes Jon’s hot breath feathering over his skin to take it all the way. Swallowing hard, he glances down. Jon is pushing his knees further apart, licking at his inner thigh, and Spencer’s mind goes fuzzy when Jon’s mouth is sliding around the head of his cock.
“Jon,” he groans as Jon’s hand wraps around the base and strokes slowly. “Wait.”
“Hmm?” Jon hums, mouth halfway around his cock, and it feels so fucking good, but Spencer forces himself to focus. He doesn’t want to come like this but he will if he’s not careful. He’s already so on edge, and Jon’s tongue sliding around his prick is not helping.
“Wait,” he says again, forcing Jon to slide off and back up.
“What?” Jon asks when he’s back up to Spencer’s level. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Spencer breathes, shaking his head. “Nothing, I just don’t want this over so soon.”
Jon smirks slowly. “It won’t be, Spence, promise.”
Spencer wants to protest, but Jon kisses him deeply, pushing him down against the bed. He takes the opportunity to pin Spencer’s arms above his head, and Spencer gives him a look as he pulls away.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Spencer points out, pulling an arm away and smoothing a hand over Jon’s collar, leaning up into him for a kiss, catching his bottom lip and pulling until Jon releases his other arm and he goes for the hem of his shirt.
When Jon’s clothes are all gone, Jon nudges Spencer back against the bed, knee knocking Spencer’s back apart.
“Do you have stuff?” Jon asks, dipping into Spencer’s neck and sucking a bruise into the skin. Spencer’s eyes flutter shut and he doesn’t reply for a minute.
“Second drawer,” he gasps when Jon’s hips push down and he can feel all of Jon, hard and pushing against him. He almost doesn’t want Jon to go when he reaches over, pulling away to rummage in the drawer. When he comes back, Spencer ruts up against him.
“Thought you didn’t want this over soon,” Jon says, laughing, but it sticks in his throat when Spencer grinds up, wrapping a leg around Jon and pulling him in closer.
“Just want it,” Spencer mumbles back, reaching for the condom and tearing it open. “Com’ere.”
Jon shifts up, arms bracing him on either side of Spencer as Spencer reaches down, stroking Jon’s cock a few times, watching Jon’s face change, but then Jon leans down, mouth brushing over Spencer’s throat and he can’t see anymore.
“Come on, Spence,” Jon murmurs, tongue flicking over his skin and pushing into Spencer’s grip.
“Okay, okay,” Spencer breathes, rolling the condom on Jon and reaching for the lube. It’s a half-empty bottle, and the top flips open with a little pop.
“You want me to?” Jon asks, scooting back and pushing Spencer’s knees up.
Spencer nods quickly, handing Jon the lube and stretching back against the sheets. In the dim light, he can watch Jon coat his fingers, jerking his own prick a few times as he shifts into position. The lube is tossed to the side and Spencer’s body tenses at Jon’s fingers tracing his entrance lightly.
“You ready?” Jon murmurs, and Spencer nods again, hands searching out Jon’s hips and pulling him in flush.
His skin is hot already and the blood in his cock is pulsing, and Spencer is pretty sure he’s not going to last long as soon as Jon starts, but he bites his lip and closes his eyes as Jon presses the first finger in. It doesn’t hurt, and Spencer pushes back against it carefully, feeling Jon rub inside, pushing in a second finger after a minute.
“Shit, yes,” Spencer breathes as Jon pushes his fingers in, fucking him slowly until he’s whimpering and pushing at him. “Jon.”
Jon’s cock is much bigger than his fingers, but Spencer doesn’t protest when he pushes in, slowly at first, careful to watch Spencer, but Spencer’s panting breaths lessen and he nods at the ceiling.
“More, Jon, come on,” he says breathlessly, fingers pressing bruises into Jon’s hips, and Jon doesn’t say anything back, just presses in all the way until Spencer gasps for air and shifts to adjust.
It feels amazing, and Spencer just needs to hold on as Jon starts to move.
“Spence,” Jon grunts as his hips thrust in, shallow at first and then deeper, pushing Spencer’s knees up higher.
Spencer whimpers once as Jon hits the right spot, sending tremors through his body, and he arches up with him. Things are hot and slippery when Jon reaches for Spencer’s prick, jerking him off quickly. Spencer bites his lip against his gasps as he feels the hot tightening in his stomach.
“Jon,” he whispers as Jon thrusts in, hips snapping forward, and Spencer’s head falls back as Jon pulls on his cock and he feels the coil of heat explode and he comes, riding a high, lightheaded and dizzy as he comes down, legs slipping from over Jon’s shoulder, but Jon pushes them back up. “Jon.”
“Yeah,” Jon breathes, panting against Spencer’s temple as he leans forward, hot breath feathered over his sweaty skin. “Fuck.”
When Jon comes, Spencer can almost feel it. He sees Jon push forward, feels his fingers tighten over his hips, the kiss pressed against his jaw, a groan against his skin followed by panted breath as Jon slides down.
“Too soon?” Jon breathes after a second, rolling off of Spencer, but Spencer follows, pressing a kiss to his jaw, tracing down the scruff, scratchy against his fingers. Rubbing his nose against Jon’s cheek, he sighs.
“No.”
“We could always go again,” Jon offers, and Spencer can hear the smile.
“Maybe in a minute,” he murmurs instead and smiles as Jon hums contentedly next to him.
*
“What are we doing?” Alex asks as he stares up at Cash’s ceiling, identical to his except for the water stain in the corner and the poster of Carmen Electra taped over the bed. Alex frowns at it for a second as Cash shifts, rolling on top of him, leg sliding in between his, and Alex wonders how many times in one night is considered excessive.
“I thought maybe your parents had taught you about the birds and the bees,” Cash drawls, mouth dipping down to Alex’s shoulder, biting at the skin as Alex pushes at him, annoyed.
“I mean, why are we doing this?” he asks instead because even if he actually has what he wants, sort of, he doesn’t understand why.
“Do you always talk this much?” Cash asks, tongue flicking over his shoulder blade as he slides lower.
Alex tries to be annoyed, but Cash is doing that thing with his tongue that always makes him weak in the knees and he can’t remember the point he was trying to make. Shaking himself, he reaches for Cash, dragging him up and staring at his shiny mouth.
“You can’t just randomly kiss me one day and not expect me to want to know why. Am I just another of your whores?”
Cash stares for a second and then smirks, reaching down to wrap his hand around Alex’s cock. Alex jumps at the unexpected touch and sort of hates Cash.
“You’re too pretty to be a whore,” he replies and Alex musters up the meanest glare he can.
“You’re a jerk,” he snaps, pulling away from Cash and reaching for his jeans on the floor. Cash watches him go for a second, still spread out naked on the bed.
Alex has already lost count of how many times they’ve had sex since that first night. If he thinks about it, he does feel a little like a cheap whore, an overeager teenager, and it doesn’t make him feel any better about this. He should have gone with his first instinct: that Cash is an asshole incapable of real emotions aside from desire. And now he’s somehow involved with him and he doesn’t know why.
“Oh, come on,” Cash says and there’s laughter in his voice, but Alex huffs and pulls his jeans up. It gets caught on his foot, though, and he hops around for a second until he falls ungracefully back on the bed. Huffing again, he wrenches the other leg up and ignores Cash behind him. “It’s fun.”
“Yeah, well, I’d like to know why it’s fun,” Alex snaps.
Cash smirks, sliding in behind him, and Alex can feel the warmth of his body pressing against him. He doesn’t let it affect him, though, as he pulls on his socks.
“Because I may be an asshole, but you’re a little bitch.”
Alex’s mouth falls open as he turns to glare at Cash, but Cash smirks and pounces, pulling Alex down until he’s trapped underneath him.
“Get off me,” Alex growls, pushing fruitlessly at Cash’s arms, but Cash is a bit bigger than him and his weight pins him down easily.
Cash looks like the cat that got the cream as he sits on top of him, smirking down, and there’s that same dark glint as the first night in his eyes. It makes Alex nervous.
“We’re doing this because we want to,” Cash explains finally. “Because you don’t hide your jealousy very well, and because you have a great ass.”
Alex stares. “What are you talking about?”
Cash laughs and shakes his head. “You hate those girls I come home with, don’t you? You want to strangle them in their sleep. I’ve heard you bang on the wall before.”
“You-you,” Alex tries to say. “I don’t. I-I’m not. You just sleep around too much and play your music too loud, and I happen to live next door. You’ve ignored me for the past year since I moved in! Why the fuck did you kiss me then? And why are we here right now? I have better things I could be doing.”
“Like sleeping?” Cash offers and Alex glares. He can’t believe he actually likes Cash, despite all his asshole nature and cocky smirk. Cash shifts, and Alex tenses as he feels Cash’s hardened cock pressing against him. It takes a second, but Cash sighs finally. “You’re not a whore, alright? And neither were the other girls, for that matter. But you were so jealous of them, and you just can’t admit it. You wanted me and you didn’t know how.”
Alex just wants to leave but he can’t move, and Cash is watching him, waiting.
“Fine,” he says finally. “Maybe I was jealous, whatever, but that doesn’t explain anything.”
“Sure it does,” Cash allows, shifting again, and Alex sucks in a breath as Cash rocks forward. “People always want things they can’t have.” He watches as Alex’s eyes flutter shut at another grind, but Alex wrenches them open a second later. “And sometimes things they can.”
Cash is a jerk and an asshole and a bastard, but god, he’s a good kisser is all Alex can think when Cash leans down, and despite all those things, Alex still likes him, and he suspects that somewhere, under the tramp and too-loud-playing-music guy, he actually has a soul, and Alex will find it… later.
*
Spencer wakes up on Sunday morning warm and content. The room is light but it’s cloudy outside as Spencer peeks through the curtains. Rolling over in bed, he pauses as he catches sight of the other side.
Jon is still asleep, sheets tangled around his legs, and Spencer hides his smile as he watches him for a second.
The clock tells him that it’s still early, but he does have work in a few hours. It’s the first time in several years that Spencer actually wishes he didn’t have to work on the weekends, but it’s not as though he can call in sick to his own practice.
He doesn’t wake Jon as he slips from the bed, grabbing the nearest pair of clean boxers and shuffling into the bathroom. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he lets his fingers drift over the red marks on his neck and dreads Brendon seeing them.
Sighing, he reaches for his electronic toothbrush and flips it on.
This is where Jon finds him just minutes later, scrubbing at his teeth, and he pauses in the doorway to the bathroom, smiling at Spencer in the mirror and watching as Spencer freezes, turning to him.
He takes the toothbrush from his mouth slowly. “I’m really not this neurotic, I swear.”
Jon laughs, coming in and wrapping his arms around Spencer’s waist.
“I just have to go to work in an hour,” Spencer continues, and Jon lets him rinse and turn back, wiping his mouth off with a clean towel.
“Morning,” Jon says instead of replying, and Spencer smiles slowly.
“Hi.”
“Work?” Jon asks after a second and Spencer sighs.
“Yeah.” He tries to pull away from Jon, but Jon doesn’t let him go. “I have to get ready.”
“You could call in sick,” Jon suggests, nuzzling Spencer’s neck. “Dentists have sick days, right?”
“Yeah,” Spencer allows slowly, “but it means canceling and rescheduling a ton of appointments.”
“Which is why you have a receptionist,” Jon adds, smiling when Spencer huffs.
“I can’t, Jon,” he says, squirming as Jon’s hands dip below the waist of his boxer.
“I know.” Jon sighs, pulling Spencer in closer. “But it’s fun to imagine.” His mouth is pressed against Spencer’s pulse, sliding up, breathing in the scent of his hair, and Spencer’s eyes close slowly. It feels good, and for a second he really does consider just skipping work, but he reminds himself, he has responsibilities, and he can’t drop them all for sex.
“But I can’t,” Spencer mumbles when Jon kisses him, fingers inching under his boxers.
“Then we should make the most of the time we have,” Jon suggests. “Don’t you need to shower?”
Spencer pauses, eyeing Jon suspiciously, but Jon gives him an innocent smile. “If I’m late because of you, it won’t be pretty.”
Jon grins. “We better hurry then,” he says, pulling Spencer flush against him and kissing him. And if Spencer’s a little late, no one will say anything anyway. It’s his practice after all.
*
“Date me, Ryan Ross.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Ryan glances at Brendon’s pink scrubs as he fits the letters into the slot.
“You’re wearing pink.”
“You wear blue.”
Ryan pauses and Brendon grins.
“Say yes, Ryan Ross.”
Ryan still pauses but Brendon widens his eyes, and he shrugs finally.
“Yes.”
Brendon grins triumphantly. “Yes! I knew it.”
As Brendon waves Ryan away in his truck, he bounces back inside with the mail, dumping it on Gerard’s desk with a grin.
“He said yes,” Brendon announces happily, and Gerard doesn’t reply. He’s too busy working on his latest drawing, one of Frank’s many tattoos covers the page, and he ignores as Brendon bounces away, clearly just intent on telling as many people as possible whether or not they care.
Brendon practically runs into Singer as he bounces into the back.
“Singer!” he cries happily, and Singer looks confused. “How’s your neighbor?”
Singer goes a little red and mutters something about the loud music growing on him, but Brendon is already gone down the hall towards Spencer’s office.
“Spencer!” he calls as he bursts in the door and Spencer arches an annoyed eyebrow at the intrusion. Brendon opens his mouth to speak but as he stares at Spencer, his expression changes to a huge grin and Spencer scowls already. “You had sex! Again!”
Groaning, Spencer rises from his chair. “We really don’t need to talk about it,” he says as he brushes past Brendon, but Brendon doesn’t let him escape. Instead, he grabs Spencer into a bone-crushing hug and Spencer gasps for air, trying to get free.
“You did! I’m so happy for you! I knew Jon was the one, and you just had to see that!”
Struggling away, Spencer scowls. “Thanks, now will you get to work?”
Brendon beams. “Sure thing, doc.”
Sighing, Spencer leaves Brendon and heads out to the front office where Gerard is frowning at his computer as Mikey talks to him.
“It was so a date.”
“No,” Gerard argues back, but a light blush tinges his cheeks and he busies himself with the paperclips on the desk.
Mikey pauses, pushing his glasses up, and then he shrugs. “Whatever, Gee, but it was. When are you seeing him again?”
Gerard doesn’t reply and Mikey smirks, digging in the gum basket.
Moving from the doorway, Spencer steps into the reception area. Gerard’s head snaps up and he looks relieved to find him there.
“Who’s next?” he asks and watches Mikey unwrap the piece of gum and stick it in his mouth.
“Bobby Flahey’s back, chipped a tooth falling off the playground,” Gerard replies.
“Send him back to room three,” Spencer says and Gerard nods. He turns to Mikey. “Stop stealing gum.”
Mikey doesn’t reply, and Spencer watches little Bobby Flahey and his mother tromp back to the exam room. Gerard avoids looking at Mikey and carefully closes the sketchbook on Frank’s tattoo.
It doesn’t take long for Spencer to hear an “Ow!” coming from exam room three and he smirks to himself, leaving Mikey and Gerard behind. It’s going to be a good day.
*
FIN.