Part Two

[silver_etoile]

 Reread part one.

*

Spencer doesn’t see Jon on Monday, or even Tuesday. He stays in his cubicle, fearful of wandering anywhere where Jon might bump into him and they can relive the awkwardness of a morning-after scene.

He buries himself in accounts and numbers, turning up his iPod so he doesn’t have to listen to the stream of numbers coming from other cubicles, mixed with thoughts about things he’s never needed to know.

He distracts himself by thinking of what he’s going to say the next time Ryan calls because it’s inevitable. Ryan will call him sooner or later about the fight with Brendon and Spencer doesn’t know what he’s going to tell him.

The obvious choice is to tell him the truth, that Brendon is secretly in love with him, has been since they were sixteen, but Spencer knows that would ruin more than it would help at this point.

On Wednesday, Spencer goes out to lunch with Greta. They go to a nearby sandwich place that Spencer frequents during the week and sit near the front window where people in business suits bustle past.

Greta watches Spencer as they begin to eat and he stares at his sandwich instead, listening carefully.

It’s hard when surrounded by a bunch of people, most of them going over schedules in their heads, and since Greta’s thoughts tend to be quieter than others.

He strains a little to block out a man in the corner’s thoughts about if his wife is out of town until Tuesday and if he can chance bringing the mistress back to the house.

This is a good sandwich, Greta thinks and Spencer concentrates hard. Spencer seems quiet today. He’s been quiet all week actually. I wonder if he’s okay. He doesn’t talk about his life much. I hope everything’s okay.

“Spencer?” Greta asks as Spencer blinks at his sandwich and takes a bite.

“Hm?” he asks around a mouthful of lettuce.

“Are you okay?”

Spencer meets her eyes for a second, seeing the concern in them as she watches him carefully.

“Fine,” he says, taking another big bite.

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to pry, but you’ve just been quiet.”

“Just tired. I didn’t think work would be so taxing.”

Greta smiles and shrugs. “Yeah, I guess it is. But are you sure it’s not something else?”

“Like what?” Spencer is careful, fearful of what she might be thinking.

Like you’re lonely. “I don’t know. It’s been a few months and you don’t seem to have many friends.”

“I do,” Spencer insists weakly.

“In New York,” Greta adds, tilting her head to the side comfortingly. “Maybe you need to find some here.”

Spencer hesitates. “Well, I went out with Jon and Tom last weekend.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Greta says sincerely. “Was it fun?”

Spencer shrugs awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess.”

“People are nice here,” Greta continues. “Maybe you’ll find a nice girl to settle down with.”

Spencer coughs around his sandwich and nods jerkily. “Yeah, sure,” he mumbles finally, reaching for his water while Greta looks on, concerned.

Is he okay? Was it the girlfriend comment? He never talks about girls.

“Um,” Spencer says quickly to divert Greta’s train of thought. “So what’s there to do here?”

“Oh, lots of things,” Greta says and begins listing activities from the zoo to concerts, and soon, her thoughts no longer have anything to do with Spencer’s love life or lack thereof.

*

When they get back to the office, they take the elevator to the fifth floor and Spencer is glad when he gets out and Greta goes back to her own cubicle down the hall. He doesn’t know why he is so freaked out at the idea of her finding out that he’s gay. He doesn’t know if she would care or not, but he’d rather not find out. He’s had bad experiences. The thing about reading minds is that he finds out a lot of things people think about him that he never wants to know again. Sometimes it’s downright hurtful.

His cubicle is in the maze, two lefts and a right from the elevator, and he reaches it after dawdling along the way, stopping to grab another cup of horrible coffee in the break room. He finally reaches his cubicle and is surprised to find someone already there.

Jon is sitting in Spencer’s chair, swinging vaguely back and forth and pushing at Spencer’s perfectly perpendicular piles of paper. He stops, though, as Spencer freezes in the doorway, cup of bad coffee in one hand and his jacket in the other.

“Jon,” he says before he can stop himself.

Jon smiles a little, standing up from the chair. “Hi, sorry, I commandeered your chair for a minute. You weren’t here so I just thought I’d wait.”

“I was on lunch,” Spencer blurts uselessly, still staring at Jon and hoping to God that he doesn’t say anything stupid.

“I figured.” Jon shrugs casually.

A moment of awkward silence passes between them and Spencer shifts on his feet.

God, he looks nervous. I probably fucked something up, didn’t I?

Jon clears his throat and quirks a smile. “Hey, so I heard I had a little too much to drink on Friday. I swear I don’t usually do that, and I apologize if I did anything stupid.”

“Oh.” Spencer is still staring, his disgusting coffee getting colder by the minute.

Jon nods a little, rocking back and forth on his heels and Spencer is reminded a little of Brendon. “Yeah. I’d like to make it up to you, though, you know, go somewhere where they don’t serve alcohol and hang out.”

Hang out. Spencer’s brain isn’t really processing all that Jon is saying, but he hasn’t said - or thought - anything about the kiss.

“Uh… right,” he says, jerking out of his daze. “Yeah, right.”

Jon smiles again and Spencer feels that same warm blanket spreading over his insides.

“How about we get some decent coffee? I can’t imagine what you have there tastes at all good.”

Spencer glances down at the coffee that’s practically congealing around the edges. “Yeah,” he admits. “It tastes pretty bad.”

“Well, I used to work at Starbucks,” Jon offers, “and there’s a good one a couple blocks from here, if you’re interested in decent conversation, all articulate and everything.”

Spencer laughs for a second, momentarily forgetting why he feels so awkward standing in front of Jon when he can remember how Jon’s scratchy beard felt against his face. Jon has apparently stopped shaving.

“Well,” Spencer says after a minute. “My mother did teach me never to turn down a good cup of coffee.”

Jon’s smile widens. “I like your mom.”

“She’s a smart woman.”

“So that’s a yes? I promise not to get drunk off the caffeine and forget what I say to you.”

Spencer nods, feeling the same dull flush as Friday night rising in his cheeks. Jon frowns for a second as he watches.

He’s blushing.

Rubbing the back of his warm neck awkwardly, Spencer nods. “Yeah, sure. Coffee would be good.”

Jon nods, satisfied. “Awesome. Oh, and Tom says that you’re okay.”

“Is that a good thing?” Spencer asks uneasily and Jon laughs.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Oh, okay. Good.” Spencer isn’t sure what to say and shifts again.

“Well, I have to get back,” Jon says after a second. “So I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Spencer agrees, watching Jon head for the door of his little cubicle. Jon stops at the door and smiles back.

“You know, if you’re not careful,” he says as he pauses, “you might just make a few friends in Chicago.”

Then he’s gone and Spencer sighs, sinking into his chair that lingers with Jon’s scent and wishing Jon knew how he wishes it would be much more than friends.

*

It looks like every other Starbucks that Spencer has ever been in, but no other Starbucks has made his heart beat faster as he’s stood at the door. He knows it’s ridiculous since Jon obviously has no memory of the past weekend. Spencer is just blowing things out of proportion, a tendency he happens to have all too often.

He’s supposed to be meeting Jon there for a mid-afternoon cup of coffee since it’s a Saturday and Spencer usually spends his Saturdays getting ahead on work. He does realize how sad this is, but since no one knows, it’s somehow not quite as pathetic.

Spencer prefers Starbucks on the weekdays because there are fewer people, but this particular Starbucks seems to be emptier than most for two o’clock in the afternoon.

Shaking himself slightly, telling himself he’s being stupid, he pushes open the door and is immediately hit with the fresh scent of coffee beans and cinnamon sticks.

Jon isn’t there yet and Spencer spends a few awkward moments debating getting a drink or waiting for Jon. In the end, he takes a seat at one of the high tables near the window and waits, tapping his fingers on the counter and ignoring the thoughts of the disgruntled barista, the one with the smile plastered on her face as she adds whipped cream to a drink.

He checks his watch every five seconds, watching the minute hand tick further past the two until five minutes have passed and the door to the coffee shop swings open and Jon enters along with a gust of cool wind. His eyes fall on Spencer almost immediately and a smile lights up his face.

Spencer feels his stomach jump at the sight and he physically forces himself to be calm as Jon slides up to the table.

Jon’s scratchy beard is gone and Spencer is surprised. He can make out a five o’clock shadow starting, though, and it makes him feel a little better. He doesn’t want Jon to have shaved to come meet him.

“Hey,” Jon greets him cheerfully. “Am I late?”

“Not by much.” Spencer shrugs, shoving his arm with the watch on it in his pocket. It’s not as though he’s expecting anything out of this meeting.

“Cool,” Jon replies. “So shall we?”

Spencer nods, following Jon to the counter and listening for a second.

Remember to pick up Dylan’s medicine before I go home.

“Your cat’s sick?” Spencer asks without thinking. It takes him only a second of Jon’s paused look of confusion before he realizes. Panicking slightly, he tries to think of a way to cover.

Jon just stares as they reach the counter. “Um, yeah, how did you know?”

“Uh…” Spencer is at a loss for an explanation but is saved by the annoyed barista waiting at the counter.

Yes, that’s right, just keep talking. I’ll just stand here for ten minutes while you discuss a cat. Can’t be more important than letting me do my job. Half an hour. Half an hour until I can go home and stop dealing with you stupid people. I hate this job.

Spencer blinks and glances at the girl, who hitches her smile back into place.

“Can I help you?” she asks. I’ll help you out of the store if you don’t order something in the next two seconds.

At the threat that sounds pretty viable, Spencer quickly orders a mocha and steps back to let Jon order some complicated drink that has the barista internally grumbling about difficult customers.

When they get their drinks, they leave the girl and her steady stream of sarcastic comments and head for the same table by the window.

“You said you worked for a Starbucks before?” Spencer asks when they sit down, wondering if Jon had been like that girl once.

“Yeah,” Jon confirms. “It was great. I really liked it.”

“Really? The people didn’t annoy you?”

Jon shrugs. “I like people.”

Spencer nods again, sipping his coffee slowly and glancing around. There are a few people sitting in the little arm chairs on the opposite wall, a man on his laptop, a few teenagers giggling over a magazine.

Mmm, coffee, is Jon’s only thought that makes it through the muddled cacophony of thoughts in Spencer’s mind.

Sometimes he wonders how, in nearly ten years, he still hasn’t learned how to control this. The only relief he gets is from certain people who don’t think loudly, or when he has music on or is completely alone. He has determined that his range for hearing thoughts is about fifty feet in any direction.

“Then you like coffee too?” Spencer asks as the lull continues.

Jon smiles. “Coffee is God.”

Laughing a little, Spencer chances a closer glance at Jon.

He’s still wearing his normal outfit of jeans and flip-flops. He has a light jacket on over his tee-shirt and his hair is starting to get long.

If I had to worship anything, it would be coffee. Like the Mayans. Except they probably didn’t worship it, and then the Spanish came and killed them all off… Okay, need a happier subject. What does Spencer like?

“So what do you like?” Jon asks and Spencer blinks, realizing he’s been focusing on Jon’s thoughts and staring rather intently at him.

“What do you mean?”

Jon shrugs. “Like, do you read? Do you have some awesome hidden talent that we don’t know about? You can’t be just Mr. Accountant Man.”

“I could be a superhero and you would never know,” Spencer points out for lack of admitting that he doesn’t have much of a life.

“Are you?” Jon counters mischievously and Spencer pauses.

“No.”

Jon laughs.

“But I could be,” Spencer adds and Jon nods.

“You could be.” Pausing, Jon sits back in his chair. “So come on, what do you like?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer mutters, more to his cup than anything else.

Why don’t you want to tell me? “You must like something.”

Spencer shrugs. “Uh… I cook sometimes.”

“What’s your favorite thing to cook?” Jon asks, smiling at him.

Spencer feels awkward and like this conversation is pointless, but he answers anyway. “I dunno. Pasta, Mexican food sometimes, um, I don’t know.”

Jon grins taking a sip of his coffee. “Maybe you’re going to have to cook me dinner sometime.”

Spencer just stares. That sounds awfully like a date invitation. Jon looks back.

Wait a minute… That sounded bad, didn’t it? Shit.

“I mean,” Jon corrects himself quickly, looking a little unsure of himself as Spencer keeps looking at him with his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth curved down slightly. “I mean, like, we should… there’s no way to fix that, is there?”

Spencer pauses, and then smiles a little. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay, well, you know what I meant, right?”

Spencer nods, casting his eyes downward at his cup and sort of wishing Jon had meant it in the other way.

Jon watches him for a minute and Spencer hears a vague filter of, wow, fail, and he feels a little better.

*

Spencer starts hanging out with Jon more and more as the weeks pass out of summer and into autumn. He thinks as he watches the trees on his street turn from lush green to golden and orange that he likes this. He likes the little chill on the air, the hint that something much colder will be coming in the coming months.

He hasn’t heard from Ryan or Brendon over the past few weeks, but it’s not that unusual. The last he’d heard, things had been fixed between them and Brendon was trying his hardest not to be mean to Keltie.

Spencer knows it’s hard for him, to watch the person he loves date someone else and have no idea. On the other hand, Spencer hasn’t made any progress on his crush on Jon.

Nothing has happened since that drunk kiss so long ago and Jon has never mentioned a thing about it. Spencer doesn’t really know how Jon feels about him, which is strange since he can hear thoughts. It really shouldn’t be that hard.

It’s the weekend and Spencer has plans to meet Jon and Tom at some bar, for some quality guy-bonding, as Tom had put it, which basically means Tom hitting on all the pretty girls while Spencer and Jon mock him for it.

Spencer has all morning to do whatever he wants, though, so he chooses to remain in his PJs, eating cereal and watching cartoons, his grumpy cat scowling at him from the other end of the couch. He still doesn’t know why this cat hates him so much.

Ignoring the yellow eyes resting intently on him, silently hating him, Spencer settles in to gorge himself on coco puffs and cartoons.

By the time five o’clock rolls around, Spencer feels sufficiently unproductive and stares at the empty bowl on the coffee table, remnants of muddled chocolate milk at the bottom. The cat has abandoned his post on the couch and is curled up on the heater under the window.

Yawning, Spencer thinks that he really should clean up, take a shower, actually get dressed before he has to meet Jon and Tom later.

In the end, though, he decides not to and sits back on the couch, changing the channel again. He reaches the food network before there’s a knock on his door. Pausing, he glances at the door. The knock comes again, louder, and he sighs, heaving himself up and heading to the door.

Pulling open the door, his mouth falls open.

“Ryan?” he asks incredulously, staring at his friend standing on his doorstep, a small suitcase in his hand and weary smile on his face.

“Hey, Spence,” Ryan greets him as though showing up on Spencer’s doorstep, a thousand miles from his own, is completely natural.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer asks, already pulling Ryan in and shutting the door behind him.

Ryan shrugs, looking around Spencer’s apartment. Had to go somewhere.

“What happened?” Spencer asks, propping the suitcase against the couch and watching as Ryan collapses on the fading grey fabric and glances around again.

“Your apartment is really small.”

Ignoring him, Spencer sits down on the couch too. “Ryan, why are you here?”

Ryan shrugs. “Just felt like seeing you.” Had to get out of there.

“You felt like catching a three-hour flight on a Saturday to tell me my apartment is small?” Spencer arches a skeptical eyebrow as Ryan shrugs again.

“You need a plant.”

“Ryan,” Spencer says plainly. Ryan can’t fool Spencer.

Ryan avoids his eyes and stares at Spencer’s black television set and the empty cereal bowl on the coffee table.

“I just… had to get out,” he says finally, insistently as though Spencer should know what he’s talking about.

“Out of where?”

Away from him. “Out my apartment, out of New York, somewhere far away.”

“And I was closest.”

“And you’re my best friend,” Ryan points out, a little petulantly. “I kind of hoped you might help.”

“Well, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what happened,” Spencer replies, feeling as though he’s talking to his first girlfriend who wouldn’t explain why she was mad at him.

Ryan sighs again and huffs, sinking further into the couch, noticing the grumpy cat for the first time. “When did you get a cat?”

Rolling his eyes, Spencer sighs. “Ryan, what happened at home?”

“Nothing,” Ryan mutters stubbornly and Spencer knows it’s useless.

“Okay, so how long are you staying?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan says, quieter now. “The weekend, I guess.”

Spencer nods. “You can stay on the couch, but the cat will get mad if you take his spot at the end.”

Ryan frowns and glances at the cat again, who is hunched over his heater vent, watching Ryan moodily as Ryan turns around.

“Good to know.”

*

Spencer takes Ryan along with him to the bar since there’s not much else to do with him and he hasn’t gotten much more out of him since he arrived other than he had to get away from him, whoever him is, although Spencer has a sneaking suspicion that it’s Brendon. He hasn’t received a frantic call from Brendon yet, though.

It’s a different bar than the first one Spencer went to with Jon and Tom. It’s brighter inside and there’s no live band, but instead, filtered music playing on the sound system.

Jon and Tom are already there, Jon rolling his eyes fondly at Tom, who’s already pointing out a few prospective girls for the evening.

Spencer gives Ryan a nudge and pulls him through the bar to where Tom and Jon are.

“Hey, Spencer,” Tom greets him upon seeing him and then pauses, his eyes flitting to where Spencer’s hand is wrapped around Ryan’s arm. Who’s that?

“Hey, Spence,” Jon echoes as well, his familiar smile lighting up his face and Spencer hates that his stomach still jumps at the sight of it. It’s been months for God’s sake.

“Hey guys,” Spencer replies, feeling a little awkward under Tom’s calculating stare, flickering between himself and Ryan. “Uh, this is Ryan.”

“Hi,” Ryan says, flopping down morosely into a free chair and sighing to the table.

Spencer doesn’t say anything and takes the seat next to him. Jon and Tom continue to watch Ryan and their thoughts run together in Spencer’s mind.

Skinny little-

Who is this guy? Has Spencer ever-

Swear to God, if this turns out to be some fucked up-

-Should order another beer.

“I’ll be right back,” Spencer says awkwardly, ignoring the sharp glance Ryan throws him and heading for the counter, ordering two beers.

As he taps his fingers on the counter, waiting, he only jumps a little when Jon appears beside him.

“So who’s Ryan?” Jon asks and Spencer jerks back, glancing at him quickly.

“God,” he breathes, unclenching his fists and taking a breath. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Sorry,” Jon apologizes, shrugging. “So? How do you know him? He’s not your…”

“My what?” Spencer asks curiously, seeing Jon hesitate.

Jon just shrugs again, grabbing Ryan’s beer as the bartender places it on the counter in front of them. Instead, he smiles, nudging Spencer’s shoulder.

“Should get back before Tom kills him, right?”

“Yeah,” Spencer agrees slowly, wondering what Jon was going to say and following him back to the table.

“-You from?” Tom is asking when they sit down and Jon hands Ryan his beer. Ryan looks from the beer to Jon and then takes a long drink.

“New York,” Ryan replies finally, casting anther glance at Spencer. This guy is crazy.

Spencer just shrugs. He’s forgotten how nice it is to have someone who knows he can hear their thoughts around.

“New York, huh? What are you doing out here?”

God, stop interrogating him, comes Jon’s thought from across the table and he catches Spencer’s eye and sort of shrugs in apology.

Spencer bites his lip and looks away as Ryan answers, still a little guarded.

“I’m just here to visit Spence.”

“You two known each other long?” is Tom’s next question, a little pointed in Spencer’s opinion. He frowns slightly and Ryan’s eyebrows go up.

“Since I was six,” he replies coldly. “We were in little league together. He broke his arm falling out of my Window Tree. He made me double date with him for Prom.”

Spencer blushes slightly at the memory and not-so-subtly kicks Ryan under the table.

Well, it’s true, Ryan thinks and Spencer scowls. Couldn’t go with a guy unless it was like a group of friends.

Spencer tries to ignore Ryan’s reminders and looks at Jon instead. Jon is watching him and smiles when their eyes meet.

“You broke your arm?”

“I was thirteen,” Spencer mutters into his beer. “And it was Ryan’s fault.”

Ryan just rolls his eyes. “You didn’t have to come.”

“But I always do,” Spencer replies, giving Ryan a pointed look that has Ryan sighing and glancing away.

Gotta tell him soon.

Jon and Tom are still watching them, Jon looking confused and Tom frowning.

What is going on with them? Tom leans forward across the small circular table, focusing on Ryan. “So, Ryan,” he says after a minute and Ryan raises an eyebrow. “What do you do in New York?”

“I work for a publisher,” Ryan replies carefully.

“That’s cool,” Jon adds, shooting Tom a warning look that everyone notices. Tom decides to ignore it, though.

“Do you like living there? I hear there are some good-looking girls. You have a girlfriend?”

To Spencer’s surprise, Ryan flushes a little and mutters something like, “Yeah, sort of,” before grabbing his beer and taking a drink.

Spencer frowns at him. “What about Keltie?”

Ryan doesn’t reply immediately.

“I thought you were dating her. Brendon said…”

“Oh, I’m sure Brendon said,” Ryan interrupts suddenly. “I know you talked to him about the fight last month. Thanks for telling me.”

“Well.” Spencer is taken aback. He wasn’t quite expecting this kind of reaction from a question about Keltie.

Tom and Jon are still watching, although Tom’s thoughts have quieted.

“What was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know!” Ryan cries. “Maybe you should have told me that he’s liked me forever!

Spencer’s mouth drops open. “You know?”

“Yes,” Ryan growls. “No thanks to you.”

Spencer sighs. “Well, it was kind of obvious.”

“Not to me,” Ryan huffs.

Spencer pauses, feeling out of the loop and upset. Ryan has his arms crossed defensively across his chest and is glaring at the beer bottle in front of him.

Jon and Tom are still staring from across the table and Spencer tries his hardest not to hear what they’re thinking but Tom’s, geez, hissy fit, still makes it through, along with Jon’s, what the hell is going on?

Sighing, Spencer keeps his eyes on Ryan. “Ryan, I couldn’t tell you.”

Ryan’s arms drop but his glare is as strong as ever. “Sure, you couldn’t tell me that our other best friend is in love with me. I thought we were friends, Spencer. God. How could you keep this from me?”

Spencer flounders for an explanation. “It was Brendon’s thing to tell.”

Ryan just huffs and pushes away from the table almost violently. The bottles on the tabletop wobble dangerously.

“Yeah, well, next time, why don’t you warn me so I don’t look like a complete idiot!” Turning, Ryan stalks from the table and out the door.

“Ryan!” Spencer calls, pushing away hastily and grabbing his jacket. Turning to Tom and Jon, who have identical looks of shock on their faces, he makes his excuses. “Sorry, guys, I have to go. Ryan, he doesn’t know the city. I just, I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t meet Jon’s eyes as he takes off out the door, Tom’s lingering thought of, yeah, chase after him why don’t you. Doesn’t even realize.

Spencer ignores him as he bursts out the door into the cool autumn night, searching desperately for any sign of Ryan. There is none and he sighs, starting off down the street to the nearest subway station.

“Spencer!”

Hearing his name being called, Spencer hesitates, turning as he sees Jon coming towards him, his flip flops slapping on the concrete.

“Jon?” he asks, finally pulling on his jacket as he continues to look for Ryan fruitlessly.

“Hey, Spencer,” Jon says when he finally reaches him. “Do you need any help?”

Spencer frowns for a second, taking in Jon’s genuine eyes and smile. “No, that’s okay. He just needs to calm down.”

Jon nods seriously. “Okay, well, you’re a really good friend, you know?”

Spencer scoffs. “Yeah, I kept a huge secret from my best friend for six years. I’m a great friend.” Rolling his eyes, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and kicks the ground angrily.

“No, you are,” Jon insists, and then his hand is on Spencer’s arm, although Spencer can barely feel the pressure through all the material, but his brain still jumps up and down screaming Jon is touching me! over and over until he wants to kill it. “Ryan’ll come around.”

Spencer sighs and nods, still hyper-aware of Jon’s hand wrapped around his arm.

Jon’s mouth curves into his lop-sided smile and his hair blows into his eyes with the breeze.

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters quietly, kicking the ground again and wondering if Ryan has found the subway station yet.

Jon just nods and smiles again, finally releasing Spencer’s arm and smoothing down the fabric. Spencer blames the flush on his cheeks on the cold wind whipping past.

“Well, let me know how it goes,” Jon says sincerely and Spencer nods.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Jon hesitates another second and Spencer waits, but nothing comes. No thoughts, no words. “I should get back. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Spencer mutters and watches Jon’s last tilted smile and his retreating back until he can only vaguely hear the slap of his shoes on the sidewalk.

*

When Spencer gets home that night, he turns on the living room light to find Ryan sitting on the couch, staring at his shoes.

Feeling relieved but not saying anything, he carefully closes the door behind him and makes a point of putting his keys and wallet on the counter, kicking off his shoes, before coming into the living room and taking the arm chair.

Neither speak for a moment and Spencer tries to tune out the stream of worried thoughts in Ryan’s head.

Finally, Ryan shifts, lifting his gaze to the black television screen.

“We got in another fight.”

Spencer doesn’t speak, waiting.

“I brought Keltie over for the night and Brendon was acting pissy so I told him he had to be nicer to Keltie since she was my girlfriend and would probably be over a lot. Then he said that he liked it better when it was just us two, but I said it wouldn’t be anymore, and then he got mad and accused me of liking her better or something stupid like that. I don’t really know. I just know that I got really mad at him for being mad at Keltie. Keltie didn’t do anything. So I told him he was being immature and that he should grow up. I thought he would storm out of the apartment and come back in an hour, cooled off. Instead, he said that maybe I was right. Maybe he needed to do something different.”

Ryan pauses, his gaze shifting to his hands in his lap. He’s been speaking to inanimate objects and Spencer doesn’t stop him.

“He came completely out of the blue, like no warning at all. He was just kissing me all of a sudden and I didn’t know what to do. I freaked out, granted. What would you have done?”

Spencer just shrugs unhelpfully and Ryan sighs.

“I just couldn’t deal with it. Especially when he said that he’d liked me forever and he only didn’t like Keltie because he was jealous. Jealous. Can you believe it? I just, God, I had to get out of there. And you were the only person who would understand. So I came here.”

There’s another pause and Ryan finally looks at Spencer. His eyes are tired and his hair flops in front of his face limply.

“I’m sorry I made a scene tonight, especially in front of Jon. He seems nice.”

Spencer just shakes his head. “It’s fine. You’re allowed to have a break down once in a while.”

“Your friends probably think I’m crazy.”

“No,” Spencer assures him. “Well, maybe Tom, but he thinks everyone is.”

Ryan just makes a vague noise and sighs again. “Am I an idiot, Spence?”

Spencer frowns, rising from his chair and climbing on the couch with Ryan, putting a comforting arm around his shoulders. “No, you just didn’t know.”

“But it was so obvious,” Ryan whispers. “How could I have missed it?”

Spencer gives a half-shrug. “It’s Brendon.”

“Yeah,” Ryan echoes. “It’s Brendon.”

Spencer slides down next to Ryan, grabbing the closest blanket and pulling it over them as they sink into the couch.

Sighing, Spencer lets his eyes close as he listens to the sounds of traffic outside his window and Ryan’s soft breath beside him. The last thing he hears before he falls into an awkwardly-positioned sleep is Ryan’s dim thought.

How’m I going to fix this?

And then everything goes blissfully quiet as he slips into dreams.

*

Spencer wakes up in a horribly uncomfortable position and his neck is stiff as he lifts it from where it’s apparently been lying against the back of the couch all night.

Ryan is sprawled next to him at another odd angle, his mouth open slightly as he sleeps.

Hearing his joints groan, Spencer carefully untangles himself from Ryan and the couch and tries to make coffee. He gets it mostly right and has managed to pour himself a cup when Ryan finally stirs, making a pained noise as he sits up straight and rubs the back of his neck.

Spencer grabs a second cup and hands it to Ryan when he returns, sinking into the more comfortable arm chair and taking a rejuvenating sip.

Ryan grunts in thanks as he breathes in the steaming scent of coffee and sighs.

Spencer lets him sit for a moment before he sets down his cup.

“Why hasn’t he called?”

Ryan doesn’t immediately reply, staring at the ripples in his coffee.

“I told him not to,” he says finally. And he listened.

“Yeah, but it’s Brendon,” Spencer points out.

Brendon can’t wait three minutes for Easy-Mac to be done, can’t stand commercials for longer than two seconds. Brendon is not a patient person. He doesn’t wait to do things if he wants to do them.

“I know,” Ryan mutters into his cup. I fucked this up good, didn’t I?

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Spencer says reassuringly and Ryan doesn’t even reprimand him for responding to his thoughts.

Instead, he just shakes his head. “I don’t know what to do. What should I do? I-I mean, what am I supposed to say to this? How am I supposed to react? I’m dating Keltie. She’s a dancer and she’s nice. Brendon. I’ve known Brendon almost as long as I’ve known you. He’s like a brother almost. But he’s so not. What do I do?”

Spencer sighs. “I think you should talk to him.”

And have him kiss me again? I don’t think so. What a brilliant suggestion.

Spencer rolls his eyes. “Have you even thought about the kiss itself? Did you like it?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Ryan demands, his voice jumping an octave. He coughs quickly and takes another drink of coffee.

“One you should answer.” Spencer shoots him a look and Ryan scowls.

“I don’t need to think about it.” I’ve freaked out enough over one stupid kiss. It didn’t mean anything. Brendon is my friend. God, I sound like some stupid psycho-babble psychiatrists give you. Am I rationalizing? Sure, I’ve known Brendon forever, but he’s never done anything before. But then, apparently I’m stupid. I didn’t even notice. He’s hardly ever dated anyone and he was weirdly mad at Keltie all the time. And that stupid fight we had. God, Brendon likes me.

“Sure you don’t,” Spencer muses over his cup and smirks smugly while Ryan just glares at him and thinks a few choice things that have Spencer rolling his eyes.

*

Ryan catches a flight back to New York early Monday morning. Spencer goes with him to the airport and they stand in front of the security check point, watching the line dwindle through the metal detectors.

Ryan quirks a smile. “I guess I should go.”

“Any idea what you’re going to say?”

Ryan shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Well, good luck,” Spencer says, smiling and pulling Ryan into a hug. “And don’t worry, Brendon loves you.”

Ryan sighs quietly. “Thanks. And hey,” he says, pulling back and grabbing his suitcase handle tightly, “you should tell Jon you like him soon too, before Tom finds me in New York and you find my body caught under a subway car.”

Spencer just makes a face and gives Ryan a little push towards the gate.

“Yeah, yeah. Get out of here.”

“I’ll be back,” Ryan promises and Spencer nods.

“Make sure of it. And don’t go too crazy.”

“Promise.” Ryan holds up a single hand in a goodbye gesture and turns, heading for the line.

Spencer watches him join the queue and lets himself get lost in the mundane thoughts of others as people mill around him, and soon, Ryan disappears from sight.

*

Work seems to go by slower than normal on Monday and Tuesday. Spencer doesn’t catch any sight of Jon and he wonders if he even will after Saturday night. Maybe Jon was just trying to be nice. Maybe he thinks Spencer is crazy for having friends like Ryan.

Spencer goes out to lunch with Greta on Wednesday like normal and comes back to find Jon perched on top of his desk, pushing around the papers again.

Hope he likes it. Should I put it by the - no, not enough light. Maybe the copy machine. Ha ha.

Spencer hears Jon before he even sees him. Curious, he pokes his head around the cubicle door and finds him sitting on his desk.

“Jon?” he asks carefully because he’s pretty sure that Jon isn’t supposed to be sitting on top of his desk.

“Hey, Spencer.” Jon’s smile is immediately there and Spencer hates that his knees feel like giving out as he stands in the doorway and tries not to look too stupid as he smiles back. Instead, it comes out kind of confused.

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought you a plant,” Jon says simply, gesturing at a little potted flower sitting on top of Spencer’s printer.

“You… bought me a flower,” Spencer repeats and Jon smiles, sliding off the desk gracefully, more gracefully than Spencer ever would.

“Just thought your office could use a little brightening.” Jon shrugs good-naturedly and Spencer stares at the flower.

“You know I have a black thumb?”

Jon laughs. “I’m sure you can keep a tiny plant alive.”

“No.” Spencer shakes his head. “I can’t. I don’t even know how I keep my cat alive.”

Jon smiles and pauses. Spencer still can’t believe Jon got him a plant.

You need something to make you feel better and plants are good for that. I wonder how things went with Ryan? I shouldn’t have waited so long to come by. He probably thinks I was avoiding him or something. Never listen to Tom again.

“So,” Jon says after a minute. “How’d everything go?”

“You mean Ryan?” Spencer glances back at him and doesn’t let on that he knows that’s what it’s about.

Jon nods, fingers the plant’s leaf.

“He went back to New York, hopefully to talk to Brendon.”

“So Brendon is a good friend?”

Spencer shrugs. “I’ve known him a long time, since high school. He’s been in love with Ryan just as long, probably even before they ever met, knowing him.”

Jon smiles. “Well, I’m glad things worked out.”

“Yeah.” Spencer sighs and looks at the plant. “You mean I really have to water this thing?”

“Think of it as a challenge. You like those, right?”

“Not when it comes to the life or death of a plant.”

Jon laughs again. Spencer wills himself not to look desperate. It must work because Jon smiles.

“Hey, so I was thinking, I should make it up to you.”

“What?” Spencer asks, confused. “Buying me a plant? It wasn’t that bad of a gesture.”

Jon grins. “No, for Saturday. I think we should go out.”

“It was my fault,” Spencer says slowly. “You don’t have to make anything up.”

Jon shrugs. “Yeah, but I still feel like we should make it up. So what do you say? This weekend?”

“Tom too?”

“I think he’s busy,” Jon says, his eyes betraying nothing. And if he isn’t, he will be.

Spencer pauses, but he can’t see anything wrong with it aside that he’ll have to spend another evening probably drinking with Jon and maybe revealing some stupid secret, or maybe having another drunk kiss that Jon won’t remember.

“Okay,” he agrees after a minute and Jon smiles.

“Great.” Perfect.

*

Saturday rolls around too soon and Spencer is still trying to remember if he fed the cat when Jon knocks on his door. Jon had insisted on picking him up for some reason which Spencer can’t fathom.

Spencer’s apartment is slightly messy as he opens the door and Jon stands in his doorway, the dark hallway stretching behind him.

“Hey, ready?”

“Er, yeah,” Spencer mutters, glancing around and grabbing his wallet from the table by the door. He casts a glance at the grumpy cat in the corner and just leaves him there.

They go to a restaurant, which Spencer is not expecting. The drive over is filled with easy conversation, despite Spencer’s violent wishing that he’d maybe picked out his clothes a little more carefully.

He’s wearing normal jeans and a tee shirt, and while Jon looks about the same, Spencer still wishes his shirt was a little tighter.

The restaurant seems popular and it’s not dimly lit at all. Lots of friends and family crowd the tables and Jon and Spencer are seated near the back.

“Didn’t know we were going out,” Spencer comments, glancing around him and picking up the menu.

Jon shrugs. “Well, I’m just tired of bars. I’m not in college anymore, you know?”

“Yeah.” Spencer has to agree that he misses hanging out with people somewhere where alcohol isn’t the only thing to buy.

Does he even get it?

Spencer stares and Jon smiles a little.

“What?”

Spencer shakes his head quickly. “Nothing.” He picks at his fork. “So what’s up?”

Jon wrinkles his nose a little and leans on the table. “The sky,” he says. “Clouds, stars, planes, hopefully.”

Rolling his eyes, Spencer sets down his fork. “I don’t know. I’m just making conversation.”

Jon laughs. “Relax then. It’s not an interrogation.”

Spencer sighs and sits back. “Okay, so what do you have to say?”

“I don’t know.” Jon shrugs. “What was that black blob in your apartment?”

“You mean my grumpy cat?”

“You have a grumpy cat?”

“Yeah, I told you about him before.”

Jon pauses. “You did?” When?

Spencer nods, hiding behind his water glass. “Yeah, that first time I went out with you and Tom.”

Jon frowns for a moment, thinking. That first night. Ohh, at the bar. Wow, I had way too much to drink that night. I so don’t remember that. God, I hope he didn’t think I was some alcoholic or something.

“Uh…” Jon smiles guiltily. “I don’t remember a lot of that night.”

“Yeah, I know,” Spencer mutters.

Jon smiles again and ducks his head a little. God, I’m an idiot.

“No, you’re not,” Spencer says without thinking and Jon glances up.

“What?”

“Oh, uh.” Spencer tries to cover it up. “You’re not, uh, ready to order? The waitress is coming.”

He hides behind his menu and doesn’t lower it until the girl is gone and his slip-up is forgotten.

*

The rest of night goes well, with Spencer only slipping up a few times and responding to Jon before he voices questions. This hasn’t happened since high school or when he’s with Ryan. When he gets too comfortable with someone, it just comes out before he can help it.

It scares him a little that this has happened with Jon, a guy whom he really likes but who only seems to see him as a friend.

When they finish eating, Jon takes him back home and Spencer thinks it was a good night. There was no alcohol involved and Jon had smiled at him a lot. A part of Spencer aches to know that it wasn’t only a friendly dinner.

As they walk up to Spencer’s apartment (although Spencer doesn’t know why Jon is coming with him. He’s perfectly capable of climbing a few flights of stairs on his own.), they talk about work and Jon tells him a funny story about the time Tom dropped his camera in a lake.

“So the models are standing there, and it’s thirty degrees outside and they’re in tiny bikinis, and Tom’s cursing up a storm because his camera has just sunk to the bottom of this lake that I can’t even believe isn’t frozen.”

Spencer laughs, trying to ignore the way Jon’s arm brushes against his as they climb the stairs in the narrow staircase.

“What’d he do?” Spencer asks as he pushes the door open to the corridor and leads the way to his apartment, stopping at the door. Jon leans against the wall and grins.

“Well, he tried to make the assistant go in after it, but we finally convinced him it was a bad idea, and they had to scrap the entire shoot for the next day.”

“Sounds like something he would do,” Spencer mutters.

Jon just shrugs. “It’s just what Tom does.”

“He’s a little scary, you know?”

Jon laughs. “You just don’t know him that well. He’s just… protective, I guess.”

Spencer arches a skeptical eyebrow but doesn’t comment as he fishes for his keys. Pausing, he glances at Jon.

“Well, this was fun. I guess I’ll see you at work?”

Jon pauses. Hopefully not.

“What?” Spencer asks, his key halfway in the lock. Jon is still leaning against the wall but pushes off after a second, rounding in front of Spencer.

He doesn’t get it.

Spencer frowns, his hand still on the lock as he stares at Jon. Doesn’t get what?

“Jon?” he asks carefully, clenching over the key to stop the nervous shaking that’s taking over his body as Jon still doesn’t speak, but watches him.

Then Jon moves and it’s so quick that Spencer doesn’t even realize it’s happening until Jon’s face is right there and his hands are there, one on Spencer’s cheek, the other resting on his tense arm still connected to the door.

Spencer’s mind blanks as Jon leans in and their mouths are connected, Jon’s bottom lip sliding against Spencer’s. His hand is tight on his keys and he swears he stops breathing as Jon kisses him, slow and careful in the hallway.

Finally, Spencer jerks back to his senses and pulls away roughly, feeling the slide of Jon’s lips as they leave his own.

Blinking, he stares at Jon, just inches away from him.

“What the hell?” he manages to gasp, glancing at Jon’s hand, which he finally drops from Spencer’s face. “What was that?”

Jon doesn’t look upset, only a little confused. “A goodnight kiss? Isn’t that what you normally do on dates?”

“Dates?” Spencer repeats blankly. Laughing nervously, he shakes himself and turns back to the door, concentrating on the lock but getting frustrated and turning it violently, shoving the door open finally and heading inside. Jon trails after slowly. Spencer makes it to the couch before turning around. “This was a date?”

Jon shrugs. “I asked you out.”

“To go out,” Spencer clarifies. “Like, hang out!”

“Is that a problem?” Jon tilts his head to the side. Thought it was obvious.

“No, it was not obvious!” Spencer exclaims, losing his head for a moment and not even realizing despite Jon’s frown. He can’t believe he just went out on a date with Jon and he didn’t even know. Jon isn’t even gay, is he?

Jon tilts his head to the side as he comes inside and shuts the door quietly behind him. Spencer hardly notices, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

“This can’t be happening,” he says finally, laughing slightly.

“Why not?” Jon takes a step forward.

“Because!” Spencer’s eyes lift to Jon and he sees Jon’s questioning glance. His stomach does a somersault and he forces it calm. “You! You’re not - and you’ve never - and!”

Frowning, Jon moves forward, placing his hands on Spencer’s shoulder as Spencer sighs and looks at him.

“Spence,” he says softly. “Can you just accept this?”

Spencer opens his mouth to reply definitively no, but then Jon’s mouth is there again, slipping against his until his lips are snug against Spencer’s and there’s nothing he can do (not that he really wants to anyway).

Jon steps backwards and Spencer stumbles over his couch, a hand flying back to keep himself upright as Jon kisses him. Jon’s hand slips over his shirt down to his back where it’s arched up over the couch. Spencer hates the whimper he lets slip into Jon’s mouth when Jon presses him up further. He can feel Jon’s knee pressed in between his legs, nudging them apart slowly, almost imperceptibly until he’s right between them and his other hand is firm on Spencer’s thigh.

“J-Jon,” Spencer mumbles against his lips, breathing out hard when Jon’s knee slides against his crotch and presses down. “Fuck”

Don’t protest, comes Jon’s slightly rushed thought when he just kisses Spencer instead of answering him. His hand slides down Spencer’s jeans, resting warmly just on the inside of his thigh while his hips rock forward.

Spencer tries to pull away, but can’t seem to manage when Jon’s mouth is there, biting his bottom lip, sucking on his tongue. Instead, he sort of falls into Jon’s touch, groaning into his mouth when Jon’s hips rock against his own and he realizes just how hard he is.

Does he have a bedroom? Please, let him have a bedroom. Where-fuck, where would it be?

Pulling away, Spencer takes in Jon’s glazed eyes for a second and then nuzzles his jaw, scratchy from his five o’clock shadow.

“Bedroom’s back there,” he murmurs against it, scraping his teeth over the skin and hearing Jon’s low groan.

“Fuck,” Jon mutters. How’d he know that? Fuck it. Where is it? He pushes away from Spencer, pulling him up with him and tugging him close for a second, a hand resting against his jaw as he leans in for a slow kiss.

Spencer’s mind is reeling when Jon pulls away, smiling almost lazily at him, and Spencer stomach flips over on itself at the sight, thinking he wants to always be on the receiving end of that smile.

“Bedroom?” Jon murmurs against Spencer’s cheek, his hips pushing obviously against Spencer’s and Spencer can feel his erection through the jeans.

Spencer nods because his mouth isn’t working anymore except to let out a quick rush of breath and suck another back in at the feeling of Jon pushing against him.

Pulling Jon backwards, they maneuver through the furniture until they reach a door which Spencer pushes open and pulls Jon in. It’s dark, but Spencer doesn’t bother with a light. The curtain is open and slats of orange streetlights fall across the floor.

“Hey, Jon,” Spencer says, but Jon has his hands on Spencer’s shirt, tugging it off and letting his hands fall over Spencer’s chest. Spencer can’t find words to continue when Jon strips his own off and lets it fall to the floor with a flump.

A pause follows and Spencer stares at Jon, taking in his skin and the way his lips are outlined in the dark room.

God, he’s beautiful.

Spencer blushes at Jon’s thought and has the immediate reaction to cover himself up, but Jon takes his hands and pulls them down, tugging him over to the bed and pulling him down onto it.

Crawling over Spencer, Jon slides on top of him, his weight warm and heavy on Spencer’s hips. Spencer likes the feeling but doesn’t say anything as Jon moves down, kissing his neck, his tongue sliding over the skin while Spencer struggles to keep his eyes open.

Jon’s thoughts become more and more disjointed as they continue and Spencer loses the train somewhere around his navel, but he hardly cares when Jon’s tongue dips under the edge of his jeans.

“F-fuck, Jon,” he whines slightly, his hands curling around the edge of the sheets. He doesn’t notice Jon’s pause, but he does notice when Jon’s hands are on his jeans, tugging them over his hips.

“You glue these things on?” he mutters and Spencer laughs, but it’s cut short when the jeans catch on his hard cock and he hisses instead.

“Sorry,” Jon whispers, running a hand up Spencer’s prick and pressing a light kiss to it. “Better?”

Spencer’s face is going to be permanently red from all the blushing he’s done tonight and he merely nods. Jon meets his eyes and smirks, pulling himself back up, quickly taking off his own pants.

“So, Spencer,” Jon says almost conversationally as he draws Spencer’s leg up, his hand on the inside of his thigh and Spencer is biting his lip hard. “I think I like you.”

Spencer stares up at Jon, concentrating hard around the buzzing of his own thoughts.

God, he looks good like this. I wanna see him like this all the time. Except when he does that staring thing. Fuck, I can’t wait much longer. He’s killing me here.

Jon leans down, his mouth brushing over Spencer’s neck. His tongue flickers out and Spencer doesn’t answer, just groans and pulls Jon closer.

“Fuck, Jon,” he whispers instead, tilting his head back and hardly able to believe this is happening.

“Mm, do you have-” Jon pants into Spencer’s neck as his hips start to move, bare skin against bare skin until they’re both groaning and panting together with each roll, each thrust forward.

Spencer doesn’t even care as long as Jon doesn’t stop touching him like that. It’s been far too long since he’s had anyone’s hands on his hips, anyone’s body hot and slick like that pressed against him.

“Y-yeah,” he gasps. “In, in the-” He tries to nod to the bedside table, but fails when Jon’s teeth sink into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Instead, the rest of the sentence comes out in a moan and Spencer’s fingers tighten over Jon’s shoulders.

The what? The table. Fuck, yeah, God, don’t stop that. Nghn.

Jon’s thoughts are barely comprehensible as he pulls away from Spencer for a moment to rummage in the drawer. Spencer takes the moment to let his eyes scrape over the contours of Jon’s back, barely visible in the dim light coming in from outside. He can see small indents from where his fingers were.

When Jon returns and presses a kiss to Spencer’s lips, Spencer doesn’t know what to say.

“Okay?” Jon asks quietly, lifting Spencer’s legs over his shoulders and Spencer hears the pop of the cap.

He couldn’t say no if he wanted to, and just nods. The initial burn is hard and Spencer grits his teeth together, pushing against Jon’s fingers.

Little more, little-okay, okay, shit, is he? Yeah, okay.

“M’fine,” Spencer mutters, “just-slow, slower?”

Jon nods quickly, adding in a second finger and pressing it through the tight muscles that work hard to reject it. He takes short breaths, positioning himself carefully and rolling on the condom. The crinkle of plastic is the only sound in the room other than their hard breaths and the rustling of sheets.

“Spence,” Jon breathes, “Spence?”

“Yeah,” Spencer gasps in reply. “Yeah, just, just yeah.”

Jon is big, and Spencer tries to remember to breathe when Jon pushes in, pausing halfway there to let Spencer take gulps of air.

“Jon, Jon,” he mutters, his fingers curled around the backs of Jon’s thighs as Jon rocks forward slightly and he gasps sharply.

“Yeah,” Jon murmurs, rocking again, deeper, until he’s all the way in and Spencer’s grip is tight.

Jon leans forward, his lips over Spencer’s and mumbles, “Like you,” before kissing him and rocking forward again. Spencer bites down on Jon’s lip hard and doesn’t release it until Jon pulls out and pushes in again.

The rhythm is quick and Jon moves easier, hips rolling forward, hands sliding over slick skin. Jon pants hot breath against Spencer’s neck and Spencer arches his hips up to meet Jon’s.

“Shit,” he breathes, his hand reaching down his front to wrap around his own cock, but then Jon’s hand is there, pushing it away. “Jo-on.”

“Shh,” Jon murmurs into his neck, stroking down Spencer’s cock firmly and Spencer’s hips jerk upward.

When Jon hits the right spot inside him, his hips shoot upward and he bites his lip hard.

Got it.

“Yeah-yeah,” Spencer babbles. “Please, right there, Jon, don’t-don’t, God.”

Jon doesn’t reply, but hits the spot again and again until Spencer can’t control himself and he’s coming in Jon’s hand, hands scrabbling on Jon’s skin for something to hold on. He feels Jon’s puffed breaths into his neck, and the stuttered thrust minutes later as Jon comes too, his groan muffled by Spencer’s neck.

Fuck.

Sliding down, Jon rolls off to the side slightly, his leg still thrown over Spencer’s as he catches his breath.

Spencer waits until he can breathe normally and tries to ignore the sticky feeling on his stomach and legs in light of what just happened.

It’s silent in the room and Spencer doesn’t even hear the buzz of a distant thought. Jon’s mind is quiet beside him and he doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. Glancing over, he sees Jon, his eyes resting contently on the ceiling.

Sighing to himself, he knows he has to do it.

He hesitates for a second before sitting up and fiddling with the bed sheet.

“Jon,” he says finally, tentatively, and Jon glances over.

Oh no. Please don’t say it was a mistake, because it wasn’t. We both know it wasn’t.

Spencer takes a deep breath and just lets the words tumble out for only the third time in his life.

“I can hear your thoughts.”

Another thought-free silence follows his announcement until Jon struggles up on his elbows slightly.

“Er, what?”

Spencer sighs, not meeting his eyes just yet. “I can hear your thoughts, well, not just yours, everyone I meet, everyone who comes within fifty feet of me. I know what they’re gonna order at coffee shops before they say it, I know what floor they’re going to in the elevator before they press a button. I know that Tom is weirdly protective of you.”

Jon just stares for a minute. “You can hear my thoughts,” he repeats finally. “What am I thinking right now?”

Spencer hesitates. “That you want some ice cream.”

Jon looks surprised. “Wow. You can.”

Spencer nods, shrugging slightly.

“So why didn’t you know that I like you?” Jon asks, scooting over on the bed and tilting his head questioningly at Spencer.

“I don’t know,” Spencer says quietly. “You just don’t think about it a lot, I guess.”

Jon smiles. “Not blatantly. But I like your smile. I like your eyes. I like that you come to find me when you have my account done instead of the other way around. I like that you haven’t killed the plant I brought you yet.”

“That’s just a fluke,” Spencer mutters. “I can’t keep plants alive.”

“Well, I still like it,” Jon says.

Spencer frowns and chances a glance over. “So you’re not freaked out that I know what you’re thinking all the time?”

“It’s a little weird, yeah,” Jon admits. “I mean, you can’t, like, turn it off or something?”

“I’ve tried.” Spencer shrugs. “But it’s never worked.”

“How long have you been able to do this?” Jon asks curiously and his thigh touches Spencer’s lightly.

“Since I was thirteen.

Jon’s mouth opens in a silent ‘oh’. “Oh, so Ryan?”

Spencer shrugs again. “Yeah, he knows. And no, we never dated in case you were wondering. He and Brendon have some weird unrequited-lovers thing going on; Ryan’s just too stupid to notice.”

Jon laughs and nudges Spencer’s side playfully. “I wasn’t wondering, but Tom’ll be glad to hear.”

“What’s up with him?” Spencer asks.

Jon just shrugs. “He just likes to protect me.”

Spencer scoffs, but sighs when Jon’s arm slides over his shoulders.

“Don’t worry,” Jon assures him. “I’ll tell him to lay off.”

Spencer snorts. “Like that’ll help.”

Jon shrugs and kisses Spencer’s cheek lightly. “So what am I thinking now?”

Spencer pauses and then his eyes widen. “Jon! We’ve only been on one date.”

Jon smirks devilishly and pushes Spencer back on the bed. “And we’ve got three months of stupidity to make up for.”

Spencer tries to protest, but doesn’t try very hard and just smiles to himself as Jon pushes him down playfully on the bed.

*

He looks awfully happy this morning is the suspicious thought that greets Spencer the next morning at work.

“Hey, Greta,” he greets her before she even sticks her head in.

Frowning, she shakes her head. “I don’t even want to know how you do that,” she says playfully. “So how was your weekend?”

“Good.” Spencer can’t help the smile that blossoms on his face and she eyes him.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, just a good date.”

“Oh?” He finally let Sherry feel him up, eh?

“Yep.” Spencer nods. “So do you have Jon’s file?”

“Jon?” she asks carefully. Jon? Whoa. Did not see that coming. I knew it! Something was off. Aw, that’s so cute.

Spencer blushes at her thoughts and busies himself with some papers on his desk. Clearing his throat, he glances back to see her still at the door, a gooey smile on her face.

“Greta?” he asks after a minute and she shakes herself a little.

“Well, congratulations, Spencer. Jon’s a lucky man.”

Spencer blushes again and she winks at him before disappearing down the hall. Trying to focus, Spencer turns to his pile, but his phone rings and he sighs before answering it.

“Spencer Smith.”

“Seven years?!”

Spencer winces at Ryan’s voice. “Yeah?”

“Seven years!” Ryan repeats. “You kept it a secret for that long?”

“Well.” Spencer shrugs, but Ryan can’t see him. “It’s wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Ryan just sighs loudly and Spencer waits.

“Fine. I’ll forgive you if you do one thing.”

“What?”

The pause is long and Spencer is beginning to think Ryan has hung up when he doesn’t even hear a thought coming through the line.

“What should I wear?”

“Wear? On what?”

On a cruise, no, on a date!

“A date?” Spencer repeats incredulously. “With Brendon?”

“Yes, with Brendon! No, with the captain! Spencer!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Spencer apologizes quickly. “You’re going on a date?”

“Yes.” Ryan sounds flustered even over the phone and Spencer can only imagine how he looks, probably standing amidst a tornado of clothes and shoes.

“Wear your jeans and that weird tan vest you like,” Spencer says finally, opting to be helpful. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan mutters, sounding like he’s rummaging in the mess of clothes doubtlessly strewn around his room. “I just wanted to talk to him about how it’s weird that he’s in love with me or something, and then he was just asking me out and I couldn’t say no and then, well, he kissed me again.”

Spencer is impressed. “And you didn’t come running here. Good for you.”

“Shut up,” Ryan snaps and then sighs. “What if I can’t do this? What if I’m not… gay. What if I hurt him?”

Spencer sighs, changing ears. “You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

Spencer laughs. “Because I can hear your thoughts and sometimes, I think I know you better than you do. So just believe me, okay?”

“Fine,” Ryan mutters. “The tan vest?”

“The tan vest.”

“Okay.” Ryan sighs. “If this goes badly, I’m blaming you.”

“Blame away,” Spencer says calmly and Ryan groans slightly.

“Okay, okay. I’ll call you later.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Spencer hangs up the phone and shakes his head, smiling at it. Sighing, he glances around the room and his eyes fall on the plant sitting on top of his printer. A bud is blossoming near the top and he reminds himself to water it before he returns to his papers, ignoring the thoughts creeping into his cubicle and busying himself with thoughts of later and Jon.

*

FIN.