Fic: I want to spend the rest of my life everywhere... part 2

[themoononastick]

The night Ryan burned his guitar he slept in Spencer's bed. Partly because Spencer's room was right at the top of the stairs and his was all the way at the end of the corridor, a whole twenty feet or so away that Ryan had no desire or energy left to stagger to. And partly because Spencer's bed looked so neat and tidy with its pillows and blankets all arranged and perfect, and Ryan hadn't quite worked out all the destructive energy that was buzzing inside him that night.

He woke an hour or so after passing out to the feel of the bed dipping under another person's weight and the blankets he'd thrown on the floor being pulled up around his shoulders. Then an arm snaked round his waist and he felt the warmth of breath across skin as Spencer crowded in close, nuzzling the back of his neck.

Spencer smelled like weed and fresh air and he'd brought the chill of the night in with him. Ryan told himself that was the reason he shivered as Spencer's hand stroked across his chest.

"You're cold."

Spencer hummed in agreement. "Been on the roof. You okay?"

Ryan shrugged. "I'm quitting music. I'm gonna move to Paris and become a mime."

There was a snort of laughter and then Spencer asked, "Paris I get, but why a mime?"

"I'll never have to speak again. I can just tell my pathetic tale through exaggerated hand movements and sad faces."

"You're an idiot."

"Yep." Ryan paused. "You gonna come with me?"

"Duh, obviously." Ryan was sure he could hear the roll of Spencer's eyes.

Ryan had lain there for a while listening to the sound of Spencer's breathing evening out as he drifted off to sleep. And then when he'd thought it was safe to do so he tried to roll out from under Spencer's arm, meaning to get out of Spencer's bed and make the long walk to his own.

But Spencer just clung tighter, holding Ryan in place as he mumbled, "Where you going?" his voice thick with sleep.

"To my room. We're not kids any more, we're too old to share a bed."

"We'll never be too old, Ry," Spencer said. "Shut up and go to sleep."

*****

as long as you have love in your heart you’ll never be alone

Ryan would really like to know who thought it would be a good idea to tour the UK in December. It’s cold and wet, and the constant sullen grey of the sky seems to bleed into everything, like all the color has drained out of the world, leaving only shadows and monochrome behind.

It’s not much better when they’re off the bus and in the venues. The warren of backstage corridors is the same from city to city, all dark and foreboding, half lit by buzzing neon, with water lying on the floor where the rain has seeped inside on jackets and boots and puddled under discarded umbrellas. No matter how many layers he wears or how close he sits to the wheezing clunking radiators, Ryan can’t seem to get warm. Next year they’re spending December somewhere hot, even if Ryan has to sell his soul to make it happen.

The nights are good, though. They're playing pretty small venues but Ryan finds that he kind of likes it. He can see the crowd better, pick out the people who are singing along and watch the way they smile and clap and turn to each other mouthing, "This is my favorite song". Sure, it's a step down from the places they, he and Jon, used to play, and they're not making half as much money, but it's fun and Ryan's enjoying himself, and that's really all that matters when it comes down to it.

The only thing that doesn't feel quite right is... Okay, Than’s a good drummer and a great guy but Ryan still feels a weird disconnect when he turns around on stage and it’s not Spencer grinning back at him. It’s dumb, he should be used to it by now, it’s been two years and more than a hundred shows between them since he last shared a stage with Spencer, but the feeling of disappointment when he turns and Spencer’s not there never seems to go away.

Ryan figures that that, the nightly jolt of disappointment, is the reason for his dreams. Every night so far since they landed at Heathrow, Ryan has dreamt about Spencer. Most nights it's been memories of time they've spent together, like a greatest hits of their combined life playing out in his head. But some nights the dreams are hazier, more surreal and disjointed, just flashes of skin and heat, and a smile and pair of blue eyes that he'd recognize anywhere.

On those nights Ryan wakes up with his skin buzzing and his fingertips tingling like he can still feel Spencer's skin beneath them. It's like a sense memory of something he's never had and it's confusing the hell out of him. He hasn't dreamt or even thought about Spencer in that way since the first flush of hormones hit when he was a kid. Except he has, because the crush never went away. Ryan just learned to live with it and turn it into something he could deal with day to day, but even back when it started, his mind didn't torment him with images like the ones he sees when he closes his eyes night after night.

Ryan tries not to dwell too hard on what it might mean. It's not like Spencer ever liked him that way anyway, so it's easier just to lie in the dark of his bunk and listen to the road go by and try and go back to sleep.

~

"I think I'm going to call my new album 'Floccinaucinihilipilification." Alex says for no reason in particular.

Ryan puts down the magazine he's been flipping through and raises an eyebrow in question.

"It means 'to consider worthless', that way I'll get my shot in before the critics. Like a last laugh, only first." Alex looks pleased with himself.

Ryan just rolls his eyes and wonders how long it will take before Alex posts to Twitter. Sure enough his phone buzzes in his pocket a minute or so later; he doesn't bother checking it; he can see Alex laughing to himself in a corner with his phone in his hand.

They'd arrived at the night's venue way earlier than they needed to. Soundcheck isn't for a couple of hours and there's nothing for them to do. Ryan's bored, so so very bored. If the weather was better he'd maybe take a walk around the city, try and find a really tacky postcard to send Z or find a cafe he could sit in and watch people walk by. But it's raining, again, and Ryan's not in the mood to trudge through wet streets dodging umbrellas and getting splashed by passing cars.

Jon's hunched over his laptop, laughing to himself as he scrolls through whatever he's looking at. Chances are it's cat macros or an email from Tom, but it'll pass the time, so Ryan decides to investigate anyway.

Ryan slumps down on the couch next to Jon, resting his head on Jon's shoulder. He's kind of tired and Jon's warm and comfortable to lean on; Ryan thinks maybe he'll just take a nap and wake up when there's actually something to do.

Jon points at his screen, angling the laptop so Ryan can see. "Some of these are pretty funny."

"What are you looking at?"

"The replies to our 'ask us a question' thing on Twitter."

Ryan sits up a little and focuses on the screen. It's the replies feed on their The Young Veins Twitter account. About a week ago they'd posted to say they'd answer questions their fans left. Mainly it was to give them something to do at times like this and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Probably because there had been quite a lot of alcohol involved.

"Okay, hit me." Ryan's just bored enough to take an interest. "What do the best minds of a generation want to know?"

"Well..." Jon scrubs a hand through his hair and scrolls up and down the page a few times. "About fifty percent of them think either you suck or I do, or, you know, both of us."

"Good to know." Ryan grins ruefully. He's used to that kind of thing by now.

"And a whole bunch of people want us to play shows in a whole bunch of countries."

Ryan waves his hand for Jon to continue.

"And then there's, like, I don't know how many we'll need to get translated before we know what they say."

"So if we do that we'll know how to say 'you suck' in every language, yeah?"

Jon laughs and nods his head. "Yeah, probably."

"I thought you said they were good." Ryan's losing interest pretty quickly.

"I was getting to the good ones." Jon elbows Ryan in the side to make his point. Ryan jabs a finger under Jon's ribs in revenge.

"Think of this as truth or dare, but without the dare part. I'll ask a question, you have to answer it." Jon pauses, waiting for Ryan to agree.

Ryan thinks it over for a moment, then asks, "Are you going to post my answers?"

"Nah," Jon says, "we'll do that later. Maybe."

Ryan says, "Okay. Fire away."

"If you had to spend the rest of your life stuck on an island with only one other person, who would it be?"

Ryan doesn’t even stop to think about it, the answer is automatic. "Spencer."

"Okay," Jon scrolls down the page a little. "Lets try this one: who or what do you miss most when you're on the road?"

Again, the answer is automatic. "Spencer."

"Who's number one on your speed dial?"

"Um," Ryan has to pull out his phone to check. "That would be Spencer."

"When was the last time you had a sexy dream," Jon makes with the air quotes, "and who was it about?"

"I'm not answering that one!" Because, seriously, there's some things Jon does not need to know.

"Sorry, the rules of the game say you have to." Jon looks far too smug for Ryan's liking.

"I hate you, just so you know." Ryan glares at Jon. Jon seems unfazed. Ryan huffs. "Fine. The answer is last night, but I'm not telling you who it was about."

"So the answer is Spencer then, thought so."

"Fine, yes, it was Spencer. I've been dreaming about having hot sweaty sex with Spencer every night for the past week." The words tumble out of Ryan's mouth without him being able to stop them. "Because I'm head over heels in love with my best friend and I have been since I was twelve. Happy now?"

Jon looks down at his keyboard, smiling to himself like he’s finally hearing something he always knew was the truth, and Ryan’s left thinking ‘huh?’ and ‘how the fuck did Jon know that before I did?’

"Is that the first time you've admitted that to yourself?" Jon asks quietly.

"Yeah." Ryan hates how shaky his voice sounds. He shouldn't sound shaky. It's just a stupid crush and it'll never come to anything and Ryan really needs some fucking air.

Ryan stands up and starts pacing back and forth, trying to sort out the maelstrom of thoughts swirling in his head. His little outburst must have drawn Alex's attention because he comes wandering over, juggling an apple from hand to hand. He moves so he's standing next to where Jon is sitting and peers at the laptop's screen.

"Is Ross okay? He looks kinda...sick. You should eat more fruit, dude. An apple a day..." Alex takes a bite of the apple in his hand, exaggerating the crunch and rubbing his belly.

"He's fine." Jon says. "He's just having an epiphany."

"Nice word, I like it. Epiphany, epihayou, epiphame. Fuck, where's my phone?" Alex pats his pockets until he finds his phone, tapping away at the screen as he says, "So is it a biggie? Has he finally realized paisley doesn't mix well with plaid?"

Jon laughs, then says, "No such luck. And it's bigger than that."

"You lie, Walker, there's nothing bigger than a sartorial emergency."

"Says the guy wearing the stupid hat."

"Hey, fuck you, my hat is awesome."

Even Ryan has to take time out from his nervous breakdown to snort at that.

Alex glares, Jon just looks smug. At least, Ryan thinks, Alex's hat does have a use now that it's drawn the attention away from him.

Except it hasn't because Alex stops glaring at Jon and turns to look at him. "So come on, Ross, what's up, tell Uncle Alex."

Ryan just flails his hands and shakes his head, there's no way he's going to discuss this until he's got it sorted out in his head.

Jon must have missed the memo, though. "He's realized he's in love with Spence."

Alex flops down beside Jon and raises his hand for a high five. "Oh my god, fucking finally."

"I know, right? It's about time."

Ryan stares at the pair of them, trying to work out what weird alternate dimension he woke up in. "What. The fuck?"

"Chill, dude." Alex grins up at him. "I guessed around the time you called me Spencer when we were, you know," Alex makes a hand gesture that falls somewhere between obscene and just plain weird, "in bed."

"Oh hey," Jon says, "you too?"

"What?" Ryan flails his hands. "I never...shut up."

Jon shrugs. "Sorry, man, you totally did."

Alex nods in agreement, then gets a wicked gleam in his eyes. "We should call Z, see if he's called her Spencer at an inopportune moment."

"No one is calling Z." Ryan makes a grab for Alex's phone but misses. "Seriously I will break the hand of the first person who tries it and I don't care if we still have shows to play."

"He's done it to me too."

Ryan spins to look at Eric who's been sitting on the other side of the room, obviously listening in. "But we never, you know..."

"Damn right we haven't." Eric walks over and squeezes on to the couch next to Alex, turning to talk to him and Jon. "I got home one night and he was asleep on the couch, so I was trying to get him to wake up and go to bed and he was all 'five more minutes, Spence.' It was kind of adorable."

"Fuck you, I am not adorable."

"Face it, Ross," Jon says, "you kind of are." Beside him Alex and Eric nod in tandem. Ryan turns away from them in time to see Than give him a thumbs up from across the room.

Ryan stops pacing and sits down heavily on the floor. He covers his face with his hands, trying to block out the image of the three wise monkeys grinning at him from the couch. The worst thing about all this isn't the realization that he's in love with Spencer, it's that he'll never hear the end of it now that it's common knowledge. Alex will start coming up with plans which, in Ryan's experience so far, rarely ends well, and Jon will be supportive and yet irritatingly pushy in that way he has. And Eric, Ryan's not sure what Eric will do but he's hoping it will be along the lines of his usual 'lalala not listening' attitude that's the main reason they've managed to share a house for so long.

From behind him on the couch he hears Alex stage whisper to Jon and Eric. "It's like watching a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis."

"More like a baby giraffe trying to stand up," Jon replies, not bothering with the whispering thing, "all wobbly and unsure."

"No, no, totally a butterfly." Alex sounds insistent. "They do that thing where they unfurl their wings and wait for them to dry before they take their first flight. That's what we're watching, he's waiting for his wings to dry."

Ryan wonders idly if he can make it as a solo performer, because his bandmates are assholes. "Can you two jokers shut the fuck up for a minute, I'm trying to think."

"Don't strain yourself, dude."

"Yeah, we've got a show to play tonight."

"Fuck the both of you with something sharp and unpleasant. I'm gonna go call..." Ryan stops, his words tailing off into nothing. Because the person he calls when he needs to sort things out in his head is Spencer, but he can't call him about this.

Ryan's phone starts vibrating in his pocket like it knows he was thinking about it. He pulls it out warily and then stares at it in horror when he sees Spencer's name on the screen.

Ryan stands up, puts his phone on the table and backs away slowly.

Which was clearly a big mistake because Jon grabs it, hits a button and says. "Ryan Ross's phone, how may I direct your call?" and then "Hey, Spence, we were just talking about you."

Ryan glares and mimes cutting his throat. Jon just grins at him.

"Yeah, the tour's going great. It's tiring but it's fun, different city every night, hours and hours stuck in a tin can on wheels, you know how it is."

Jon listens for a moment and then says. "We finish on the 21st. Ryan'll be back in L.A. on the 22nd."

Ryan glares some more, but then relents because maybe Jon is actually being a nice guy and fielding the call for him.

"Yep, Ryan's right here, I'll pass you over."

No such luck. Ryan makes a list of all the ways he's going to make Jon's life hell then takes the phone from him, saying, "Hey, Spence."

"Hey, so, um," Spencer pauses and Ryan is sure he hears him take a deep breath like he's nervous or something. Which is weird. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

The question throws Ryan for a moment. He hadn't really thought that far ahead. "I haven't decided yet. I guess I'll maybe go see my mom."

"Oh, yeah, I hadn't thought of that." Spencer pauses again. "So okay, my parents won, like, this holiday on a cruise ship, Christmas at sea or something, and Jackie and Crys are taking the opportunity to spend time with their boyfriends."

"Holding hands and not touching below the waist, right?" Ryan interjects.

"Damn right, you know it." Spencer's laughter echoes down the phone. On the couch Jon, Alex and Eric are looking way too interested in the conversation for Ryan's liking, so he walks out into the hallway, closing the door on the room.

Spencer is still talking. "And Brendon is going out to Detroit, so I'm kind of home alone and...I was wondering if you wanted to come spend Christmas with me?"

Spencer's last few words come out in a rush and Ryan is a little confused by it; after all, it's not like Spencer is asking him to donate a kidney or anything.

Ryan thinks the question through. His first reaction is to say yes, but it feels weird, he feels weird even thinking about spending a few days alone with Spencer. Which is dumb, because they've spent more time together than he's spent with pretty much anyone else in his life.

It's just the timing of it that's freaking him out, Ryan knows that. If he hadn't just bared his soul to the chuckle brothers behind the door then he wouldn't be thinking twice about saying yes.

"Ry? You still there?" Spencer taps at his phone like he's checking the connection. Ryan should probably answer him.

"Yeah, sorry, the connection is a bit shaky. Anyway, yeah, sure, I'd love to come over to your place for Christmas." Maybe love is a bit strong, Ryan tries to cover it up with a joke. "It'll save me spending money on takeout, right?"

Spencer laughs again. "Definitely. If you're lucky I'll even show you how to cook a turkey."

"And if I'm unlucky?"

"I'll make you cook it yourself."

"But then we'll both die of food poisoning."

"Good point, well made."

Ryan can hear laughter in the background. "Hey say hi to Bren for me, yeah?"

There's some muffled talking and then Spencer is back. "He says hi back. I'm also supposed to tell you he made thirty or so fake Twitter accounts so he can leave you and Jon a bunch of embarrassing questions."

Ryan laughs. "Tell him we already worked that out."

"I'll tell him in a minute," Spencer says. "Look, I'll let you get back to the stuff you were doing, just... come over when you're done sleeping after you get back, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay." Ryan smiles. He wonders if Spencer can tell he's smiling all the way away in L.A.

"See you later, Ry."

"Bye, Spence."

Ryan ends the call and slumps back against the wall, trying to decide if agreeing to spend Christmas with Spencer is a good idea or the worst decision he's ever made.

Through the closed door beside him he hears Alex shout, "Fly, Ross, fly!"

Ryan doesn't feel at all guilty when he jerks the door open without warning and Alex and Jon sprawl out into the hallway, landing in a tangled heap at his feet.

~

Ryan avoids the party after the show. He feels off-balance and unsure of himself, and he has ever since Spencer's call and the conversation before it. He's definitely not in the mood to deal with a room full of people he barely knows. Instead he climbs back on the tour bus and curls up in the lounge, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the worst of the night's chill.

He's been sitting there staring in to space and trying his best not to think about anything for maybe half an hour when he hears the door to the bus hiss open. He listens to the sounds of footsteps walking through the bus and looks up when he hears someone clear their throat. Jon is standing in the doorway with a shaky smile on his face and a pair of take-out cups from Starbucks in his hands. If Ryan were to hazard a guess he'd say they contain hot chocolate; it's Jon's default drink choice when he thinks someone needs comforting.

"You okay?" Jon asks.

Ryan just shrugs. He's not really in the mood to talk about things.

Jon sits down beside him and passes over one of the cups in his hand. "So, um, sorry I was kind of an ass earlier. I didn't realize it was such a big deal."

Jon looks really apologetic, but Ryan isn't done wallowing yet, so he just shrugs again.

"No, hey, Ryan, come on, it's going to be fine, trust me." Jon shifts closer, putting his arm round Ryan's shoulder.

Ryan leans against Jon's chest, sipping at his hot chocolate and trying to let the feel of Jon's fingers carding through his hair soothe his worries away.

~

The rest of the tour goes smoothly. Jon and Alex treat him like he's fragile and might break any second for a couple of days, but Ryan gets sick of it almost immediately and starts pulling pranks on them until they can't do anything but treat him normally again.

He still gets the same jolt of disappointment when he turns around on stage and sees Than and not Spencer. And he can't help but notice the little flashes of guilt that cross Alex's and Jon's faces when they mention Spencer's name. But the dreams stop, and for the most part Ryan feels like he's getting over his little freak out and learning to deal with things again.

After all, he's felt this way about Spencer for years, so he's used to tucking the thoughts away in dark corners of his mind where they'll never see the light of day.

~

Ryan gets home late on the 22nd, or more like early on the 23rd. He feels wired and shaky; he's felt that way since he changed planes in New York. It was weird leaving everyone else behind at the airport - Jon to catch his flight to Chicago, Alex and Than heading off home, Eric going to stay with his folks for the holidays.

As he was sitting in the departure lounge on his own Ryan had wondered if it had always felt this way for Jon when they toured before; everyone else going one way while he headed off on his own in a different direction. It wasn't a nice feeling, Ryan didn't think he could have done it as often as Jon did. But then Jon has always been more self-sufficient than Ryan, so maybe it hadn't been so bad for him.

But now Ryan's home alone, too tired to stay awake and too exhausted to sleep.

He walks from room to room, not sure what to do with himself and trying not to think about the day after tomorrow - Christmas Eve - when he's supposed to be heading over to Spencer's house.

He makes a pot of coffee then sits down in front of the TV, flipping through the film channels looking for something to watch. TNT is having a Christmas marathon so Ryan settles on that, losing himself in watching Jimmy Stewart talking to his angel and then the Grinch and his heart that grows three sizes. By the time he falls asleep, curled up on the couch with the TV still playing, there are birds singing outside in the trees.

~

Ryan wakes up with a start, confused and disorientated. For a minute he can't work out where he is or how long he's slept, jetlag and post-tour exhaustion making everything seem hazy and blurred.

On the TV Michael Caine throws a window open and asks a street full of puppets what day it is and Ryan considers doing the same thing. Except the chances of there being anyone, even a puppet, outside his window who can answer him are pretty slim. Unless the coyotes have gotten smarter since he's been gone.

Ryan thinks maybe he could post to Twitter, ask the masses what day it is like a modern twist on an old tale. But then the fog in his brain clears a little and he realizes he can just look at the readout on his phone to find the date.

His phone tells him it's already Christmas Eve. He's been asleep for more than a day and he's got a dozen missed calls, half of them from Spencer.

Ryan curses and jumps to his feet, ignoring the rush of blood that makes him sway and the ache in his back from sleeping on the couch for so long. He needs a shower badly, and to pack a bag and find the gifts he got Spencer in England, but most of all he needs to return Spencer's calls.

Spencer sounds pissed when he answers, his, "Hey, Ryan" tinged with something that sounds a lot like disappointment.

"Hey, hi, sorry sorry, I'm on my way, I promise." Ryan is throwing clothes into his rucksack with one hand and holding the phone in the other. "I got back really late and I just woke up. Seriously, Spence, I missed a whole day."

"Oh, okay, cool." Spencer sounds happier already and Ryan breathes a sigh of relief. "So Pete's having a party tonight and I said we'd make an appearance. You can meet me there if it's easier?"

Ryan thinks about it, but no, he'd much rather go to Spencer's and then on to Pete's, that way he can take his car and leave it on Spencer's driveway.

"No no, I'll only be, like, half an hour or so." Ryan pulls off his shirt and sniffs at his armpit. "Wait, make that an hour, I really need to take a shower."

Spencer laughs and says he'll wait for Ryan to get there. Ryan hangs up and looks around his room, trying to remember where he put his keys.

~

Spencer is drunk. Gloriously, amazingly, hilariously drunk. Ryan can’t decide which one of them will be in more pain in the morning, Spencer from his hangover or himself from the way his facial muscles feel stretched and frozen in a grin that’s been threatening to split his face in half since Spencer decided to show the party the best way to do The Bump.

Ryan’s standing on the edge of the room, one eye on the chaos that Spencer is creating and one on Ashlee who’s filling him in on all the gossip he missed when he was out on tour. He’s been nursing a beer for an hour or so. It’s warm and a little flat when he sips at it and he doesn’t really want it, but he keeps a hold of it anyway.

Ashlee leans in to whisper a particularly juicy tidbit, but Ryan doesn’t catch what she says, his attention solely focused on Pete who’s grabbed hold of Spencer’s hips and is trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to lead him round the room in what may or may not be an attempt at a waltz. Ryan hopes to god that neither of them try to dip the other. That's bound to end in tears, and possibly broken limbs. Brendon will kill him if he gives him back Spencer after the holidays with an arm or a leg in a cast.

Ashlee groans and buries her face in Ryan’s shoulder, muttering, "My husband, ladies and gentlemen." Ryan pats her back consolingly, smiling at how fond she sounds even though she’s complaining. But even as he’s doing it he gets a little pang of jealousy that he can’t say something similar. Not that he wishes he and Spencer were married, it’s just that ‘my best friend’ doesn’t have quite the ring to it that something like ‘my boyfriend’ would have.

And yeah, Ryan thinks, he’s definitely had enough to drink if he’s thinking things like that. He promised himself he’d get through Christmas without getting melancholy and sad and wishing for things he can never have.

Pete waltzes Spencer over to where they’re standing, grinning manically as he works through the complicated task of disentangling Spencer’s arms from around his waist and transferring him over so he’s propped up against Ryan, his arms thrown haphazardly around Ryan’s neck. Spencer’s heavy against him, so much so that Ryan has to shuffle them both back carefully until he can lean against the wall to help support their combined weight.

"Is he okay?" Ashlee reaches over and smoothes Spencer’s hair away from his face, concern in her expression.

Spencer nuzzles into Ryan’s neck, sighing contentedly and pressing his lips against Ryan’s jaw. Ryan thinks maybe it’s time he poured Spencer into a cab and got him home so he can throw up and pass out in peace. Hopefully in that order.

"Yeah, he’s fine, but I think I’m gonna take him home just in case."

"You guys can stay here if you want." Pete looks over at Ashlee as he suggests it, waiting for her to nod in agreement before he continues, "The guest room’s free, or there’s a pull-out bed in the couch in my office if you don’t think he’ll make it that far."

Ryan thinks it over; it’s a nice offer and it will save him a lot of trouble, but Spencer’s going to feel like crap when he wakes up and that kind of thing is way easier to handle in your own house, so.

"Nah, it’s okay, you guys don’t need us here when you’re opening presents from Santa." Ryan feels Spencer slipping down a little, so he winds his arms round Spencer’s waist to hold him up. "Just, can you do me a favor and call the cab for me, my hands are kind of full."

"Hey, no," Ashlee holds up a hand. "I’ll drive you, it’ll be easier."

"Are you sure?" Ryan asks. As much as he knows Spencer will feel better waking up in his own bed, he also knows that Spencer hates feeling like he's putting people out or being a burden on anyone.

"It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ve been sticking to Coke all evening and this way if he pukes in the back of the car it’ll just mean I’ll own his soul," Ashlee grins, "you know, instead of him having to pay valeting fees."

"Come on." Pete pulls one of Spencer’s arms from Ryan’s neck and drapes it round his own. "I’ll help you get him to the car."

~

The ride back to Spencer’s house is uneventful. Spencer passes out pretty much as soon as they get him in the car and Ashlee seems content to hum along to the radio up front while Ryan keeps an eye on Spencer in the back.

Ryan’s kind of dreading getting Spencer out of the car, not really sure if he and Ashlee combined will have the strength to haul his dead weight inside if they need to. But Spencer wakes up easily when Ryan nudges his shoulder and tells him they’re home, and once they’ve tugged him out of the car he starts walking up the path to his front door under his own steam.

Ashlee pulls Ryan into a tight hug, pushing up on to her tiptoes to brush a goodbye kiss against his cheek. "Tell Spence we have the whole night on tape, yeah?"

Ryan takes a step back and looks at her quizzically. "Really?"

"Nah, I'm just kidding, but it'd be fun to make him think we do." Ashlee grins as she climbs back in her car, pulling her seatbelt on then waving as she pulls away.

Ryan watches Ashlee drive down the road until she disappears from sight round a corner. He feels like he needs to take a moment to breathe, to order his thoughts, before he deals with getting Spencer into the house and in to bed. It's stupid, but it just feels...domestic in a way that Ryan knows in his heart it isn't. It's just one friend helping another friend out, not anything more. Ryan squares his shoulders and turns towards the house.

Spencer is leaning on the door, his head pressed against the wood and his hand raised to the lock like he got halfway through trying to turn the key and passed out again. Ryan can't help but laugh. He thinks about trying to take a picture with his phone to capture the scene for all time, but he figures it's probably best to just get Spencer inside the house before he falls over and hurts himself.

It's not easy juggling the tasks of keeping Spencer on his feet and getting the door open and them both inside but Ryan manages it somehow. He props Spencer up so he's half sitting on the little table in the hallway, heels off his shoes and takes off his coat, then turns to do the same for Spencer.

Spencer's eyes are glassy and unfocused and he's mumbling to himself. Little snatches of conversation that Ryan can't quite catch, but he thinks he maybe hears his name a couple of times as he's trying to get Spencer to move his arms enough to remove his coat. When he kneels down to untie Spencer's laces, Spencer sighs happily and then Ryan feels a hand on his head, Spencer's fingers carding through his hair trying to tug him forward, and he closes his eyes and bites down on his lip trying to chase the thoughts of how he's dreamt about Spencer doing the same thing under a whole other set of circumstances.

Ryan pushes himself to his feet quickly enough that he sways a little from the blood rush. Spencer puts a hand on his chest and at first Ryan thinks Spencer's trying to steady him, but then Spencer tugs him forward until they're pressed together and Ryan can smell the alcohol on Spencer's breath.

Spencer leans forward, pressing his face against Ryan's shoulder and whispering, "'m drunk" like it's a big secret, before leaning back again and staring at the ceiling.

There's a strand of hair hanging in Spencer's face and he keeps blowing at it to get it to move. Ryan reaches out and tucks it behind Spencer's ear then let's his hand curl round the back of Spencer's neck. "Yeah, Spence, I know."

Spencer stops staring at the ceiling and stares at Ryan instead. His eyes are clearer now and a little bit wild looking.

"No no, you don't get it, 'm really, really, really drunk," Spencer grabs Ryan's shirt and pulls him forward again, "and that's why I'm going to kiss you now."

"Wait, wha..." Ryan doesn't get a chance to finish his question because Spencer's kissing him. It's sloppy and messy and Spencer tastes like tequila and beer; it's simultaneously the best and the worst kiss that Ryan's ever had.

Ryan gets lost in the kiss for a moment. Lost in the feel of Spencer's lips against his and the happy little noises Spencer's makes as their tongues meet and tangle together, lost in the fantasy that he's getting what he finally realized he's wanted all these years.

But then he remembers that Spencer's drunk, drunker than he's seen him in ages, and Ryan may be an asshole and he may have done a lot of things that he regrets, but he's not so desperate to get what he wants that he'd ever take advantage of anyone when they're in a state like this. And especially not Spencer.

Ryan breaks the kiss and pulls away from Spencer, trying not to notice the way Spencer follows him or the way Spencer's hands are grabbing at thin air like he's trying to catch hold of Ryan and pull him back in. Ryan flails his hands in the air trying to work out what to do. It's too late to call anyone for advice, and besides, what would he say anyway: Spencer kissed me, send help! He'd sound ridiculous and Spencer's going to be embarrassed enough in the morning without knowing there was someone else to witness...whatever this is.

Spencer, though, Spencer seems oblivious to the chaos he's creating. He's just sitting on the table with his eyes closed, smiling as he says, "I've wanted to do that for years. Years."

"You've wanted to do what for years, Spence?" The words are out of Ryan's mouth before he has a chance to think what he's saying.

Spencer opens his eyes then rolls them, looking at Ryan like he's the dumbest person on Earth. "Kiss you, stupid. So so long, like, since we were kids."

Something his dad used to say flashes through Ryan's head - there's truth at the bottom of a glass - and he can't help but ask, "So why didn't you?"

Spencer sighs. "Because you were always kissing someone else. And, and, you don't believe in love and that's stupid, you're stupid, why are you so stupid?" He emphasizes the last few words by jabbing a finger against Ryan's chest.

Ryan grabs Spencer's hand and holds it, thinking back over all the conversations they've had over the years and all the things Spencer has been saying to him that he just didn't hear. "Because I don't listen to you enough."

"Damn right." Spencer nods his head, glaring at Ryan like he's daring him to argue as he says, "You should listen to me all the time, then we could kiss and I wouldn't feel sad."

And that, that right there, the idea that he's been making Spencer sad, is something Ryan just doesn't have the energy to deal with right now. It's too late at night, Ryan's too tired and Spencer's too drunk, and if they're going to have this conversation they should have it when they're both sober enough to remember it. And anyway Spencer's eyes are drooping closed and he keeps jerking his head up like he's fighting the urge to sleep.

So instead of asking Spencer any more questions, Ryan puts an arm around his waist and pulls him to his feet. "Come on, let's get you into bed."

There's no way he's going to get Spencer up the stairs in the state he's in so Ryan guides him to the lounge. The couch is long enough and wide enough that Spencer can sleep comfortably on it, and there's a big overstuffed armchair that Ryan can curl up in; he wants to stay close just in case Spencer needs anything in the night.

Spencer is pretty much asleep on his feet but Ryan manages to get him settled on his side on the couch, with a couple of cushions for a pillow. He digs a couple of blankets out of the chest in the corner, throws one onto the chair for himself and covers Spencer with the other. He thinks he probably should have gotten Spencer to drink some water before he went to sleep, but it's too late now.

Just as Ryan's backing away from the couch, Spencer reaches out and grabs hold of his arm. His eyes are closed but his voice is clear when he asks, "Can I tell you a secret?"

Ryan smiles. "Yeah sure, Spence."

Spencer pulls him closer then tugs on his arm until Ryan kneels down beside the couch, then he half-says, half-whispers, "I'm in love with Ryan Ross. He's my best friend and he's an idiot, but I love him anyway." Spencer lets go of Ryan's arm and brings a finger to his lips. "But, shhhh, don't tell Ryan, okay?"

Ryan can't decide if he wants to laugh or cry, he settles for saying, "I promise." Adding, "How 'bout I tell you a secret too?" when Spencer frowns like he doesn't believe him.

"'kay."

Ryan takes a deep breath, then says, "Ryan's kind of in love with you too."

"Yeah?" Spencer smiles, the big, wide smile that Ryan knows so well. It's beautiful and devastating at the same time.

Ryan leans in and presses a kiss to Spencer's forehead. "Yeah."

Spencer murmurs, "Good, that's good," before his breathing evens out and he's asleep.

~

When Ryan wakes up the couch is empty. The blanket is lying discarded on the floor, and Spencer is nowhere to be seen. For a moment Ryan is gripped by a fear that Spencer has run out on him, taken the walk of shame off into the sunrise. But then he remembers he's at Spencer's house, so that probably isn't the case.

He hears a noise from the kitchen, so he gets up to investigate, yawning and stumbling a little as he walks. Ryan thinks he could do with a lot more sleep.

Spencer is standing in front of the oven, staring at it like it holds the secrets of the universe. Ryan leans against the door frame, waiting for Spencer to notice his presence.

"I'm trying to remember how long it takes to cook a turkey." Spencer doesn't turn to look at him, he just keeps staring at the oven.

Ryan tries to hold back a laugh but doesn't really manage it. "Why are you trying to remember that?"

"I promised you turkey, you know, all festive and stuff." Spencer finally turns away from the oven and looks at Ryan. "I'm pretty sure my mom always gets up at dawn to put hers on, so."

"No no, seriously, Spence. We can have turkey tomorrow. You're not in a fit state to cook today."

Spencer runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head. "Yeah, I think I'm maybe a little bit drunk still. Unless the room is actually spinning, in which case I'm fine."

Ryan walks towards Spencer then stops when Spencer starts to back away.

"I was also trying to decide between ritual suicide and hoping you woke up with amnesia." Spencer looks at Ryan with a worried look on his face. "Do you have amnesia?"

Ryan shakes his head, no.

"Okay," Spencer says, "suicide it is."

Ryan frowns, thinking over what Spencer said last night and wondering if he changed his mind. "Why do you... What do you remember about last night?"

Spencer winces and his face starts to flush with embarrassment. "I remember being incredibly drunk and telling you things I promised myself I never would."

"Oh." Ryan steps closer, crowding Spencer back against the counter and giving him nowhere to run to. "But did you mean them, those things you promised not to say?"

"Ryan, don't." Spencer looks away, refusing to meet Ryan's eyes.

"Okay, fine, I'll go first." Ryan turns Spencer's face with a finger under his chin. "Spencer James Smith, I am in love with you and I always have been. And, honestly, if I still feel that way after watching you dancing last night, it's never going to change."

Spencer's eyes go wide in amazement, like he's hearing Ryan's words for the first time. Ryan tilts his head to the side. "Do you remember me telling you that last night?"

Spencer shakes his head. Ryan rolls his eyes.

"Trust you to forget the important bit."

"But I... but you..." Spencer flails his hands. "Wait, What? You love me?"

Ryan nods his head yes this time, and then proves it with a kiss.

It's a way better kiss than the one they shared the night before. Spencer grabs hold of Ryan's shirt and pulls him close, then closer still, like he's trying to crawl under Ryan's skin. Ryan thinks that Spencer just needs to realize he's already there.

When they break apart Ryan is panting for breath and Spencer's swaying on his feet. Ryan wants to think that it's due to his awesome kissing technique. But he thinks it's more likely to do with how much Spencer had to drink and how little sleep he's had.

Ryan takes Spencer's hand and pulls him out of the kitchen and toward the stairs, saying, "Come on, let's go to bed."

Spencer stops in his tracks. "There's no way I am doing anything other than sleep, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it." Ryan smiles. "I figure we've waited this long, what's another few hours."

"I was thinking more like days. As in, I'm going to sleep for..."

Ryan doesn't let Spencer finish, he just kisses him again and then drags him up the stairs to bed.

~

Later, much later, when they're curled up together on the couch, watching Scrooged on TNT and eating take-out straight from the carton, Spencer passes Ryan a fortune cookie that's been lying neglected at the bottom of the delivery bag.

Ryan snaps it in two, keeping half for himself and giving the other half back to Spencer, then he turns over the slip of paper expecting to see the same familiar fortune he's been getting since July.

But instead of telling him he'll find love with a good friend, the fortune reads, "You got your wish."

...the warm little center that the life of this world crowded around. ~ Chuck Palanhiuk - Fight Club

A truly rich life contains love and art in abundance. ~ Fortune cookie motto

in another life I’d be drenched in sweat with you ~ The Guillemots - Get Over It

as long as you have love in your heart you’ll never be alone ~ As Tall As Lions - Home Is Where You're Happy