(no subject)
Title: Baby Drive Slow ('Til We Run Out of Road)
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer
Words: 10,900
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for hc_bingo 's Bodyguard square.
Huge thanks to sunsetmog for the incredible beta and heroic slaying of my over abundance of full stops and misuse of commas. ♥ Also thanks to aredblush and playfullips for the million read throughs, the awesome feed back and enthusiasm.
--
"I can't believe--are you kidding me right now?"
Spencer sits in the armchair and watches his latest client throw his arms in the air and pace up and down, mildly amused by the display of histrionics. He’s only tiny, but for what he lacks in stature he appears to make up for with noise.
"No, really, Shane, are you seriously fucking kidding me with this?"
The other guy--"Shane Valdes." he had introduced himself with a smile and a handshake--looks completely unperturbed by the antics. In fact he almost looks entertained. Almost.
"Shane. Shane, are you even listening to me?"
"Bit hard not to." Shane replies, still looking completely unaffected. There must be something in his tone or the look on his face because the other guy silences momentarily.
"This is ridiculous."
"No, this is being smart, Bren. You running around town like someone hasn't been threatening your life is ridiculous." Shane tugs at his hat and Spencer can sees the lines of worry creasing his eyes and mouth.
"But a bodyguard? I'm not fucking Whitney Houston and, sorry to say, that dude is not Kevin Costner." Brendon pauses. "No offense."
Spencer shrugs but doesn't reply. He's not here to talk some kid--Brendon, his brain supplies, but Spencer isn't in the habit of learning names until he's signed the dotted line-- into letting him protect him. He either wants to not die or he doesn't, it's pretty simple as far as Spencer is concerned. It's not like there's a shortage of work, not when LA is full of high profile and paranoid celebrities convinced that everyone, from their manager to the guy that fixed their sink when they were seventeen, is out to get them.
"Brendon. It's not negotiable. Don't make me go over your head."
Brendon glares, "Who to, Shane? I don’t have a boss, remember? I’m on my own."
“I still have Kyla on speed dial. Don’t think for a seco--”
“You wouldn’t.” Brendon pokes him in the chest and really, Spencer thinks this is getting way too daytime soap opera for him.
"Try me, Bren. I dare you."
"I fucking hate you." Brendon sighs and flops down in an arm chair, his arms crossed tight across his chest, "Fine. Hire him, but he's not the boss of me, okay? I got away from my parents because I didn't want to be told what to do anymore, I don't need to pay someone to do it."
Shane shrugs, "He's here to keep you safe, Bren, not to tell you to clean your room. Actually--" Shane turns to Spencer, "You could do that, right? Pull some Chuck Norris shit and make him clean up after himself."
Spencer raises an eyebrow. "It doesn't really fall under my job description, but sure, if you want."
"He doesn't want." Brendon glares at Spencer and then at Shane, "You do not want."
Shane laughs and claps Brendon on the shoulder. "I've got a call to make. I'll leave you two to get acquainted."
"Sure thing. I'll let my crew know and they should be here by two-ish." Spencer stands and shakes Shane's hand. "I'll get the contract ready by then as well. I’ll need you both to sign."
Shane nods. "No worries. I'll let the gate man know to expect them."
Spencer watches him leave and then turns to Brendon, who is glaring at the floor like it’s the cause of all of his problems.
“So, I’m going to need to see your house.”
Brendon nods. He stands up and doesn’t bother waiting for Spencer before he starts walking. They get to the top of the stairs, and Brendon all but hisses at him, “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I’m not a babysitter. I’m a bodyguard. Babysitters aren’t allowed to carry weapons.”
“Right.” Brendon gives him a look. “I’m your boss, right? Like, I’m paying you and everything to protect me or whatever?”
“Well, you will be as soon as you and Shane sign the contract.”
“Good. Remind me after I sign it that I want you to stop talking to me.” Brendon turns and starts stomping his way down the stairs.
Spencer sighs and rolls his eyes as he follows him.
--
“So, hey, my new client is a jackass. Do you think it’d be wrong of me to let him get shot?”
There’s the clatter of silverware in his ear and then Ryan’s soft laughter. “Isn’t that against the job description?”
“He’s a jerk, Ryan. Like, he’s not even a cool jerk like Walker was. He’s going to order me to not talk to him. How the fuck am I supposed to say hey, run for your life, if I can’t talk to him?” Spencer waves at Bryar as he drives the van carrying their equipment in and then leans against the wall, rubbing at his forehead. He can already feel the headache coming on.
“Shoot him in the knee cap?”
Spencer sighs. “You are no help, you know that right? Put Walker on, at least he attempts to be helpful.”
“No can do, Spence. Jon and I aren’t talking.”
Spencer can hear the sounds of Ryan making coffee, and probably something disastrous and gross that is supposed to be breakfast, and something pulls in his stomach. He shakes his head a little and focuses. “Oh yeah? Why is that?”
“He wants another cat. I said no, because four is more than enough, but now he’s being pissy about me ruining his dreams of being a cat farmer.”
“Distract him with a blow job?”
Ryan groans, “You are entirely unhelpful you know that, right? Christ, distract him with a blow job, what the fuck kind of advice is that?”
“It’s better than shoot him in the knee cap, just saying.”
Spencer sees Bryar waving him over and he sighs. “Ry? I’ve gotta go.”
“Of course you do. Don’t get killed, okay?”
“I’ll try my best.”
“Okay. Bye, Spence.”
“See you, Ry.” Spencer hangs up and sighs. He hates saying goodbye to Ryan, especially when he hasn’t seen him in so long. He tucks his cell in his pocket and makes his way over to Bryar. At least work can distract him.
--
“What are you doing?”
Spencer looks up from where he’s connecting a GPS tracker to a tie pin.“Hmm?”
Brendon is standing staring at him, but at least it’s a lot less hostile than the looks he’s been throwing Spencer’s way for the last five hours. Spencer’s crew had shown up and started installing cameras and a whole host of other things around Brendon’s house and for some reason that made Brendon even angrier. Spencer will never really understand people.
“I asked you what you’re doing.”
Spencer frowns, concentrating on his task. “I thought you didn’t want me to speak to you.”
“It’s possible I over-reacted and took my fear and frustration over not being in control of the situation out on you. Well, according to my therapist, anyway. Really I’m just not very sociable and hate most people. So, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Spencer shrugs. “Happens all the time.”
Brendon snorts a little and Spencer looks up at him, squinting against the glare from the sun.Up close, now that he's not throwing a fit, Brendon doesn't look much younger than Spencer. Spencer knows from his files that Brendon is older than him, but from everything he’s seen this morning Spencer likes to think he has maturity on his side.
“You were going to tell me what you were doing?”
“Oh,” Spencer holds up a tie pin, “GPS tracker. So if I lose you, which isn’t likely, or you somehow manage to do the runner, which is more likely, I’ll be able to find you.”
Brendon comes closer and sits down next to Spencer. “But wouldn’t I just ditch the tie pin?”
“In my experience, when someone’s attempting to run away the last thing they’re going to remember is that they’re wearing this.” Spencer solders another wire, “Usually by the time they do remember, I’ve already caught up with them.”
“But doesn’t it defeat the purpose now that I know about it?”
Spencer smiles a little. “Who says this is the only GPS system that’ll be on your person?”
“You can’t make me wear it, you know. I do have rights.”
Spencer takes in Brendon’s folded arms and glare and turns back to the soldering iron. “So, question. What is it exactly that you’re so against? Me being your bodyguard, having a bodyguard or not dying?”
“Being told what to do, actually. I don’t want to die and I don’t really care who it is protecting me, but I had no say in this and I hate being told what I can and can’t do.”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do and as far as I can tell, I haven’t yet.” Spencer reaches for a pair of pliers. “It’s not really my thing, you know, barging into people’s lives and barking orders. I’m just here to protect you. As long as what you’re doing is safe and isn’t going to put you in a dangerous situation, or get me shot, you’re free to do what you want, when you want.”
“As long as you can come with, right?”
“Yep. Bit hard to protect you when you’re three blocks away.” Spencer frowns in concentration and snips some excess wire.
“You know, if you attach the red wire to the green, it’ll work as a conductor and then you won’t need so much solder.”
“How do you know?” Spencer looks over at him again.
“I thought--don’t you get briefed on that sort of stuff before you sign on to protect me?”
Spencer looks back down and keeps soldering. He's not really willing to take the advice of a guy he met five hours ago. He needs to know this is going to work.“Mmhm.”
“How much do they tell you?”
“I know that you graduated from MIT when you were seventeen. I know that you freelance for government agencies and that you can build a hard drive from scratch in two hours. I also know that you stumbled across classified information and now there’s reason to believe that someone is out to get you.” Spencer starts screwing the back on the pin. “I also know that when you were in the seventh grade you were given a two day suspension for changing the passwords on all of the main office computers.”
“They told you all of that?”
Spencer finishes with the last screw and grins. “No, that’s what I found out myself. What they told me is that they can’t tell me anything because it’s classified, but that the threat is coming from somewhere unknown.”
Brendon frowns. “But--how are you supposed to keep me safe if you don’t even know what it is you’re keeping me safe from?”
Spencer grins. “Because I am very, very good at my job.”
“So I’m supposed to trust you to protect me from whoever is out there when one of the biggest government agencies can’t?”
“Yep.”
“Oh. Great.” Brendon frowns, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “How many times have you been shot?”
Spencer raises an eyebrow. “You’re not going to get shot.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Spencer finishes packing his stuff up. “I’ve shot people more than I’ve ever been shot.”
“Still not answering my question.”
“Five times.” Spencer shrugs. “But none of my clients have ever been, and I don’t plan on starting with you.”
Brendon nods and hands Spencer a pair of pliers. He takes them and packs them away. “Thanks.”
“So--what happens if I want to go out?”
“I come with you. It’ll just be like you’re going out with a friend, except I’ll be carrying a gun and you won’t be able to go off alone.”
“Okay.”
Spencer stands and stretches, “It’s going to be fine, yeah? All you have to do is be alert and if anything out of the ordinary happens, let me know. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Can do.”
--
Spencer’s in the kitchen, nursing a glass of milk, when a figure appears in the doorway. His instincts kick in and his hand is on his gun before he even thinks about it. He withdraws his hand when he sees Brendon.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Spencer shakes his head. “Reflex. Can’t sleep?”
“Not really. I’m not used to--they took my computers, so I’m a bit-- lost, I guess.” Brendon pours himself some milk and sits across from Spencer. “Is it--do you think it’s weird that nothing has happened? You’ve been here two days and before you there was other agents and--” he sighs. "Something should have happened, right?”
“Not necessarily. In my experience unknown threats are unknown for a reason.”
Brendon frowns and runs his fingers over the condensation on his glass.“What reason?”
“Oh.” Spencer shrugs. “Element of surprise, mostly. It’s a bit hard to plan a defense when you don’t know what the attack is, or where it’s coming from.”
“So, we’re sitting ducks?”
“Not exactly. The fact that we know there is a threat is a good start. The fact that I’m here and my crew is on standby, that we have surveillance and a game plan; those are all good things.” Spencer smiles a little. “We might not know the rules of the game, but we’re still playing it.”
“So, it’s just a game?”
Spencer drinks some of his milk. “It’s like chess. He makes a move, we’ll counter it.”
“I suck at chess.”
“Well,” Spencer grins, “I’m a master.”
Brendon smiles weakly and keeps running his fingers over the glass. Spencer watches him, studying the pattern his fingers make.
“Treble clef.”
“Hmm?” Brendon snaps out of his reverie. “Sorry?”
“Treble clef.” Spencer nods his head at the pattern Brendon’s traced in the condensation.
“Oh, yeah. I flirted with being a music major for a little while.”
“Yeah? Why’d you change your mind?”
Brendon shrugs. “I didn’t. It wasn’t really an option.”
Spencer opens his mouth to speak, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He opens it and scrolls through a message and then casts a glance out the window.
“Something wrong?”
“Maybe,” Spencer stands and takes hold of Brendon’s arm,. “Let’s move to the den, okay?”
Brendon nods and lets Spencer lead him. “What’s going on?”
“Just someone loitering near the gates. There’s a tail on them, but just to be on the safe side, I’d like to keep you out of sight.”
Brendon folds his arms across his chest and sits on the couch. “Okay.”
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s probably nothing.”
“Or it could be someone waiting to bust a cap in my ass.”
Spencer snorts. “Really? A cap in your ass?”
“Whatever, it’s a totally valid phrase.”
“Uh huh.” Spencer flops down on the couch and turns the TV on, keeping the volume down low enough that if there’s a disturbance he’ll hear it. “Oh hey, I love this movie.”
Brendon starts laughing, “The Bodyguard? You--for real? You are a bodyguard.”
“So what? You never watch movies about nerdy hackers?”
“Hey!” Brendon punches him in the thigh and Spencer turns his head and looks at him, raising his eyebrow menacingly.
“Remember when Shane asked me if I could pull some Chuck Norris moves to make you clean your room?”
Brendon nods and Spencer grins evilly. “Punch me again, and you’re going to wish you only had Chuck Norris to deal with.”
Brendon last all of two seconds before he bursts out laughing. “Oh my god.” He takes the remote out of Spencer’s hand and changes the channel. “Star Wars kicks The Bodyguard’s ass any day. Besides, you are so much more Harrison Ford than you are Kevin Costner.”
Spencer sighs dramatically, “Fine, but only because there are light sabers.”
“And Ewoks.”
Spencer nods. “Well, duh.”
--
“I’m bored.”
Spencer looks up from his computer. “Sorry?”
“It’s not your fault.”
“No, I didn’t--never mind. What did you say?”
“I said, I’m bored.” Brendon flops down next to him. “I need to get out of this house.”
Spencer frowns back at the computer screen and keeps scrolling. “Where did you want to go?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere. Coffee sounds good, oh wait no, Mexican.”
“You just ate, like an hour ago.”
“So? I’m a growing boy.”
Spencer sighs and enters a password, searching through another file. “Okay, well. I need to finish up here, so give it an hour and we’ll go.”
“What are you doing?”
“Oh. I’m looking through some more information about you actually.” Spencer smiles a little. “My crew’s been digging.”
Brendon leans in to look at the screen, hooking his chin over Spencer’s shoulder, and Spencer holds himself still and pushes away the urge to move.
“You need to know that I won a science fair in the fourth grade? How is that important?”
“Everything is important. The more I know about you, the easier it is for me to protect you.” Spencer opens another file and starts to read. Brendon’s quiet for a minute, reading over Spencer’s shoulder.
“You could just ask me yourself, you know.”
Spencer nods. “I could. But you could also lie, so.”
“What sort of dick would lie to the person whose supposed to be protecting them?”
“You’d be surprised. Three of the times I got shot was because the client lied.” Spencer shrugs. “It happens. Human nature and all that.”
“I’m not going to lie.”
Spencer looks at him. His eyes are wide and he looks so fucking earnest. Earnest with a side of terrified and vulnerable and a hell of a lot of attractive. Spencer sighs and closes the computer. “Okay. Okay, let me get changed and I’ll let my people know we’re moving, and then we’ll go okay?”
“Awesome. You won’t regret it, Spence.”
Spencer raises an eyebrow. “Spence?”
“Spencer is so formal.” Brendon shrugs and smiles at him. “I’d prefer to think of us as friends.”
“Friends.”
“Yeah you know, just two guys hanging out, watching movies and talking shit.” Brendon grins. “One of them just happens to have a gun.”
“Uh huh.”
Brendon’s face falls a little. “It’s cool. I get it. This is just a job, forget I sa--”
Spencer reaches out and rests a hand on his arm. “Friends sounds good, Brendon.”
“Yeah? Okay, awesome.” Brendon picks up the remote. “I’ll stay here while you change.”
“Okay. Try and stay out of trouble.”
Brendon mocks salutes him. “Will do.”
Spencer sighs, rolling his eyes and walks off to get changed.
--
“So,” Brendon picks up the menu and starts to scan it. “Why did you choose being a bodyguard?”
“Oh, I don’t know really. I just kinda fell into it.”
Brendon raises an eyebrow. “You just fell into carrying a gun and putting your life on the line for strangers?”
“Okay when you put it that way.” Spencer shrugs. “I was going to be a cop. I had graduated from the Academy and the idea was that I would eventually work towards joining the FBI.”
“So, what happened?”
“About a week after I graduated, this guy came up to me and offered me a job being a bodyguard. The money he offered was amazing and the job sounded interesting, so I said I’d think about it.”
“You weren’t sure?”
Spencer frowns. “I wasn’t not sure? It’s just--it’s one thing to be a cop and knowing you might have to put your life on the line for someone else, but it’s another to go in knowing that you could die protecting someone, if that makes sense.”
Brendon nods. “Yeah, it does.”
“So I told him I’d think about it, and then he offered to let me go on a job, protecting someone who had witnessed a murder.” Spencer smiles a little just thinking about it. “Except somehow me and the client managed to get separated from the rest of the crew. We had no back up, no communication, nothing. So I took him to my best friend's apartment and we stayed there for a week.”
Brendon laughs. “What did your best friend think about hiding a witness?”
“He was more than okay with it.” Spencer smiles fondly. “They ended up falling in love and are getting married next month. I’m best man.”
“Really? Wow, that’s awesome.”
Spencer nods. “Yeah. Yeah it really is.”
The waitress comes over, and they order their food. Brendon picks at the edge of his napkin. “Does it ever get lonely?”
“Sometimes.” Spencer shrugs. “When I have downtime it does for sure, but I don’t know, sometimes I get an awesome client and I don’t even think about it.”
“Like me?”
Spencer laughs a little. “Yeah, like you.”
Brendon grins at him and then looks away, blushing. He looks back and Spencer smiles at him, but any moment they might be having is interrupted by the waitress bringing their drinks.
“So, tell me something about yourself.” Brendon says, taking a sip of Coke.
“What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me.”
“Okay, then.” Spencer smiles, and starts telling him about his family. He knows he shouldn't be getting personal, he knows he’s here to do a job but he can’t help it. There’s something about Brendon that draws him in, makes him want to tell him all of his secrets.
Brendon laughs at something he says and Spencer’s stomach twists. Fuck, he thinks. This is not going to end well.
--
Spencer gets the call at 4am. He’s just finished doing a double check of the locks when his phone starts ringing, and he knows this is it. He jumps to action before he’s even said hello.
Brendon is asleep on the couch in the den, the same place he’s slept every night for a week, and all it takes is Spencer shaking his arm roughly for him to wake up.
“Spen--”
Spencer shushes him and pulls him to the floor. “Listen to me carefully, okay? Someone is in the grounds. I need to get you out of the house and to the car. Under no circumstances are you to leave my side unless I tell you.”
Spencer attaches the tie pin into the cuff of Brendon’s sleep pants and grips his arm.“I tell you to run, you run. Got it?”
Brendon nods quickly, his eyes wide and frightened. He lets Spencer pull him to his feet. “Stay behind me.”
Spencer pushes the door open slowly, and carefully looks around the corner. It’s dark and he can’t see anything. His phone vibrates in his pocket again. He slips the wireless earpiece into his ear and presses send. “Laena? Tell me I’m clear.”
“He’s still in the grounds. You should be clear to get to the garage but take it slow. No heroics this time.”
Spencer wraps his fingers around Brendon’s wrist. “It was one time.”
“Twice.” Spencer can hear the click click of a key board. “Okay, Trav’s got a sight on him. Slow, Spence.”
“Got it.” Spencer makes his way down the hallway, keeping a firm grip around his wrist. Brendon’s pressed along his back and Spencer can feel him shaking, his breathing coming in short, ragged pants.
“Laena, how are we doing?”
“Still clear. He’s at the south entrance. Trav’s trying to get the shot.”
Spencer walks a little faster and then he hears cursing and then Laena’s voice in his ear. “Shit, there’s two of them. They’ve doubled back, Spence, you need to run for it.”
The sound of a gunshot follows her voice. Something whizzes past his head and then the vase above Brendon’s shoulder shatters. He pushes at Brendon, ordering him to stay down, and Spencer starts shooting, yelling for Laena to give him information. A shadow crosses past the window and Spencer shoots at it. He grabs hold of Brendon and runs, still shooting. He sees another shadow, a gun point at them and he doesn’t think, he points and shoots and he knows, even as he’s dragging Brendon toward the car, that it was a direct hit.
They make it to the garage and Spencer pushes Brendon into the front seat, then get in himself, pressing the button to open the garage door. He puts his foot down on the gas. “Get as low down as you can, Brendon.”
Brendon gets down on the floor, his head ducked down as Spencer speeds out of the garage. Spencer heads for the gates, ducking when a bullet ricochets off the trunk of the car. “I need the gates open.”
“Got it, Spence.”
Spencer can see the electric gates opening and then he flies through the gap, checking that they’re closing behind him.
“Fuck.”
“I’ve got safe house two ready for you, Spence.” Laena’s voice is calm and a welcome relief from the pounding of his heart and the ragged breathing coming from Brendon.
“Thanks. Is someone with Valdes?”
“Annie’s on it. She’s going to take him and meet up with Suarez and then move him to a secure location.”
Spencer checks the rear view mirror. “Have I got a tail?”
“Nope, all clear.”
“Okay. Who's meeting us?”
“Let me check.” He hears Laena hit a couple of keys, “Ashlee and Johnson are there now. Trav’s going to relieve him in the morning but Ash’ll stay until this is over.”
“Right. Thanks, Laena.”
“Take care.”
“Will do.” Spencer presses a button on his phone and then holds out a hand to Brendon, helping him back up on the seat, “Hey, it’s okay.”
Brendon shakes his head, “It’s not okay. We were shot at, Spencer.”
Spencer reaches into the backseat and feels around for a blanket and then passes it to Brendon. “But we weren’t shot, so it’s a win.”
“In what fucking universe do you count being shot at, but not being shot, a win”
“Hey,” Spencer reaches out and rests his hand on his arm, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I am so not okay. Someone just shot at me. At both of us and you’re like--Jesus fucking Christ, you’re totally like Kevin Costner.” Brendon shakes his head and pulls the blanket around him. “How the fuck is this even my life?”
Spencer checks his mirrors again. “I have better hair than Kevin Costner. Plus, if I pulled that stunt with the samurai sword and the scarf, my best friend would kill me. He has a lot of feelings about accessories.”
“Stop trying to distract me.”
“I’m not, I’m just pointing out fact. My hair is way better than Kevin Costner’s and, quite frankly, I’m hotter too.” Spencer shrugs. “It’s simple physics.”
Brendon rolls his eyes. “I don’t even know what you’re saying right now. All I’m hearing is Hi, my name is Spencer and I’m a crazy person who gets shot at for a living.”
“It’s really not that bad. You get used to it.”
“No. You might be used to it, but I’m not, and I don’t plan on ever getting used to it.” Brendon pulls the blankets higher around him. “I’m going to sleep and hopefully when I wake up this will all have been a really, really fucked up dream.”
Spencer watches him shut his eyes and sighs. “I’ll wake you when we stop.”
When Brendon doesn’t reply he turns the radio on low and just drives.
--
Spencer drives for what feels like forever, his eyes drooping more and more the longer he stares at the road stretching out in front of him, a never-changing straight line where even the scenery stays the same. He pulls into a drive-thru and buys the biggest coffee he can, and then finds a spot in the car park, close to the exit just in case. Brendon’s still asleep in the seat beside him, so he reaches across and pulls the blanket up over Brendon where it’s slid down, and then gets out of the car, locking it behind him.
He pulls out his phone and dials, resting against the car. He can’t afford to let Brendon out of his sight and if he’s really honest with himself, he doesn’t really want to. Spencer keeps his voice low, just in case.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Spence? Hey what’s up?”
Spencer scans the surrounding area. “I got shot at again.”
“Jesus. Are you okay? Is the client okay?”
“I’m okay. Brendon’s pissed, though. Pissed and terrified.”
“Understandable. Wait, Brendon? It’s Brendon now?”
“Ryan, don’t start.” Spencer picks at a loose thread on his shirt. “It’s not a thing.”
“Fucking liar, it is so a thing. You never use first names, Spence. You still call Jon, Walker.”
Spencer sighs, “He’s just--I like him okay? He’s a good guy and I don’t know, I have fun with him. It doesn’t feel like work.”
“But, Spence, it is work.”
“I know that, Ryan.” Spencer snaps and then winces. “Sorry, sorry. I just--I know. I do.”
Ryan’s quiet for a moment, his breathing steady and calming in Spencer’s ear. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Spencer deflates. “I know and I won’t. I’m just being ridiculous.”
“You’re not. You’ve been doing this for a while now, Spence. You were bound to want something more eventually.”
“I guess.” Spencer sighs, “I should get going.”
“Okay. Stay safe, Spence.”
“I will. Say hi to Walker for me.”
Ryan laughs and Spencer relaxes at the sound. “I will.”
Spencer hangs up and rests his forehead against the car door. He sighs and gets back in. There’s still a while to drive yet.
--
Brendon wakes up ten minutes after Spencer gets back into the car and the rest of the drive is quiet. Brendon doesn’t say much of anything, only speaking to thank Spencer for the coffee and muffin and Spencer doesn’t try to push.
Eventually Spencer turns onto a familiar gravel road, and through two giant black iron gates that shut closed behind the car with a reassuring clang.
“Where are we?”
Spencer drives the car up a long driveway and pulls to a stop outside of a large cottage. “Safe House.”
“I thought safe houses were supposed to be run down and roach-infested.”
“You watch too many movies, Brendon.” Spencer grabs a backpack out of the backseat and then walks around to open the car door for Brendon, taking a quick look around. “Okay, come on.”
Spencer keeps a hand wrapped around Brendon’s wrist as they go inside, not letting go until the door is locked and alarm set.
“Okay. We’re going to stay on the bottom level for now. Bathroom is down the hall, the kitchen is on the left and the living room is through there.” Spencer points to the right. “There will be two other people staying with us at all times but I’m still the one in charge and I’m the one protecting you, okay? You need anything or if anyone tells you to do something, check with me first.”
“Okay, got it.” Brendon pauses. “What about clothes and stuff?”
Spencer hands him the backpack he’d grabbed from the car. “Here. I packed you some stuff.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“No problem. You can go and lay down on the couch if you want. I’ll be in after I make a phone call.”
Brendon nods and Spencer watches him walk away.
--
Brendon’s asleep on the couch when Spencer gets back from briefing Ashlee and Johnson. It’s always disconcerting how excited they get about the possibility of having to shoot someone. More so Ashlee, who tends to stroke the butt of her gun in unmitigated glee. At least Johnson tries to pretend that he isn’t a little bit bloodthirsty.
Still,he thinks, flopping down in an armchair, at least he can trust them to have his back.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, a status report, and when he looks up again, Brendon is awake and blinking owlishly at him.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Brendon pauses. “So, um, sorry about before. I was being a dick.”
Spencer shrugs. “It’s okay, it happens.”
“No, like--” Brendon pats the seat next to him. “Come sit?”
Spencer stands wordlessly, and crosses the room to sit next to Brendon. “I mean it, it’s okay.”
“You saved my life.”
“Well, yes, but it’s still okay. You were scar--” Spencer startles when Brendon cuts him off with a kiss. He freezes for a second, and then relaxes and lets him in. He shuts his eyes and kisses back, cupping Brendon’s face in his hands.
“I was scared because I thought you might get hurt.” Brendon says, pressing his forehead to Spencer’s.
Spencer strokes his thumb over Brendon’s jaw and swallows a little, “It’s my job, Brendon.”
“I know but--” Brendon sighs and pulls away a little bit. “I thought--it doesn’t matter.”
“Hey, no. It matters.”
Brendon shakes his head and picks up the remote. “Forget it, okay? Just--thank you for saving my life.”
“Brendon.”
“I said, forget it.”
Spencer sighs.“Okay, sorry.”
Brendon crosses his arms across his chest and stares at the TV. Spencer spends the rest of the night alternating between wanting to punch something and staring at Brendon’s mouth because it’s right there. Spencer thinks that being shot at is the least of his problems.
--
Two days later and it’s still awkward as fuck. Brendon alternates between not speaking while being in the same room as him, and walking out as soon as Spencer walks into a room which is annoying, but also has the side effect of making it really fucking difficult for Spencer to do his job.
Spencer’s taken to passing messages to Brendon through Ashlee, but she corners him and tells him to man the fuck up and that she isn’t here to play go between. Finally Spencer gets tired of being ignored so he corners Brendon in the living room.
“So look, I get it, you’re not talking to me, my presence makes you sick, whatever. But you are making it really fucking hard for me to do my job and quite frankly, if you end up getting killed because of this, I am going to be pissed. So if you don’t want to talk to me, then fine, don’t talk to me, but I swear to god if you walk out of the room one more time purely to avoid me, I’m going to tie you to a chair.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Spencer uses the bitch face he tends to use on his most difficult clients and Ryan. “Try me.”
“Whatever.”
“Good.” Spencer picks up the remote and turns the TV on. “And I’m not eating Pizza for dinner again tonight, so you'd better think of something else.”
Brendon huffs out a breath and Spencer sighs. It's a sign of just how gone he apparently is for Brendon because he actually feels bad. “I don’t want to be a hard ass,Brendon. But whatever is going on between us? It can’t get in the way of me keeping you alive.”
“There’s nothing going on between us, Spencer. This is just a job, remember?”
“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”
“Whatever, Spencer. I’ll behave and you can do your job and then you’ll never have to worry about me once this is all over.”
“Because that’s going to be so easy,” Spencer mutters.
“Excuse me?”
Spencer changes the channel. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
--
Spencer spends the next day doing paperwork and sending and receiving status reports. Travis arrives to relieve Johnson,and Spencer spends an hour or so shooting the breeze and laughing as he relays the story of Gabe’s latest attempts at seducing Greta.
He’s in the kitchen, reading a file on his laptop and drinking coffee when Brendon walks past with a bowl of cereal even though it’s 8pm. He’s sleep-rumpled and looks so fucking hot that Spencer’s stomach clenches in want and he almost wants to cry in frustration. Brendon catches him staring and his lips raise in a cautious smile. Spencer takes it as progress, trying to resist the urge to push him against the wall and kiss him until they can’t breathe, and he’s seriously, seriously considering giving in and just doing it--which is naturally when everything suddenly goes to hell.
He sees a flash of metal catching moonlight and he jumps into action before he can even think. He pushes Brendon to the ground as the sound of glass breaking registers in his brain, followed by the burn of hot metal in his arm and then his stomach but it’s Brendon screaming his name that send a thrill of fear through his body. There’s the sound of another window breaking and Brendon screams again. Spencer wants to say something, do something, but he can’t move. And then everything goes black.
Part Two
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer
Words: 10,900
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for hc_bingo 's Bodyguard square.
Huge thanks to sunsetmog for the incredible beta and heroic slaying of my over abundance of full stops and misuse of commas. ♥ Also thanks to aredblush and playfullips for the million read throughs, the awesome feed back and enthusiasm.
--
"I can't believe--are you kidding me right now?"
Spencer sits in the armchair and watches his latest client throw his arms in the air and pace up and down, mildly amused by the display of histrionics. He’s only tiny, but for what he lacks in stature he appears to make up for with noise.
"No, really, Shane, are you seriously fucking kidding me with this?"
The other guy--"Shane Valdes." he had introduced himself with a smile and a handshake--looks completely unperturbed by the antics. In fact he almost looks entertained. Almost.
"Shane. Shane, are you even listening to me?"
"Bit hard not to." Shane replies, still looking completely unaffected. There must be something in his tone or the look on his face because the other guy silences momentarily.
"This is ridiculous."
"No, this is being smart, Bren. You running around town like someone hasn't been threatening your life is ridiculous." Shane tugs at his hat and Spencer can sees the lines of worry creasing his eyes and mouth.
"But a bodyguard? I'm not fucking Whitney Houston and, sorry to say, that dude is not Kevin Costner." Brendon pauses. "No offense."
Spencer shrugs but doesn't reply. He's not here to talk some kid--Brendon, his brain supplies, but Spencer isn't in the habit of learning names until he's signed the dotted line-- into letting him protect him. He either wants to not die or he doesn't, it's pretty simple as far as Spencer is concerned. It's not like there's a shortage of work, not when LA is full of high profile and paranoid celebrities convinced that everyone, from their manager to the guy that fixed their sink when they were seventeen, is out to get them.
"Brendon. It's not negotiable. Don't make me go over your head."
Brendon glares, "Who to, Shane? I don’t have a boss, remember? I’m on my own."
“I still have Kyla on speed dial. Don’t think for a seco--”
“You wouldn’t.” Brendon pokes him in the chest and really, Spencer thinks this is getting way too daytime soap opera for him.
"Try me, Bren. I dare you."
"I fucking hate you." Brendon sighs and flops down in an arm chair, his arms crossed tight across his chest, "Fine. Hire him, but he's not the boss of me, okay? I got away from my parents because I didn't want to be told what to do anymore, I don't need to pay someone to do it."
Shane shrugs, "He's here to keep you safe, Bren, not to tell you to clean your room. Actually--" Shane turns to Spencer, "You could do that, right? Pull some Chuck Norris shit and make him clean up after himself."
Spencer raises an eyebrow. "It doesn't really fall under my job description, but sure, if you want."
"He doesn't want." Brendon glares at Spencer and then at Shane, "You do not want."
Shane laughs and claps Brendon on the shoulder. "I've got a call to make. I'll leave you two to get acquainted."
"Sure thing. I'll let my crew know and they should be here by two-ish." Spencer stands and shakes Shane's hand. "I'll get the contract ready by then as well. I’ll need you both to sign."
Shane nods. "No worries. I'll let the gate man know to expect them."
Spencer watches him leave and then turns to Brendon, who is glaring at the floor like it’s the cause of all of his problems.
“So, I’m going to need to see your house.”
Brendon nods. He stands up and doesn’t bother waiting for Spencer before he starts walking. They get to the top of the stairs, and Brendon all but hisses at him, “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I’m not a babysitter. I’m a bodyguard. Babysitters aren’t allowed to carry weapons.”
“Right.” Brendon gives him a look. “I’m your boss, right? Like, I’m paying you and everything to protect me or whatever?”
“Well, you will be as soon as you and Shane sign the contract.”
“Good. Remind me after I sign it that I want you to stop talking to me.” Brendon turns and starts stomping his way down the stairs.
Spencer sighs and rolls his eyes as he follows him.
--
“So, hey, my new client is a jackass. Do you think it’d be wrong of me to let him get shot?”
There’s the clatter of silverware in his ear and then Ryan’s soft laughter. “Isn’t that against the job description?”
“He’s a jerk, Ryan. Like, he’s not even a cool jerk like Walker was. He’s going to order me to not talk to him. How the fuck am I supposed to say hey, run for your life, if I can’t talk to him?” Spencer waves at Bryar as he drives the van carrying their equipment in and then leans against the wall, rubbing at his forehead. He can already feel the headache coming on.
“Shoot him in the knee cap?”
Spencer sighs. “You are no help, you know that right? Put Walker on, at least he attempts to be helpful.”
“No can do, Spence. Jon and I aren’t talking.”
Spencer can hear the sounds of Ryan making coffee, and probably something disastrous and gross that is supposed to be breakfast, and something pulls in his stomach. He shakes his head a little and focuses. “Oh yeah? Why is that?”
“He wants another cat. I said no, because four is more than enough, but now he’s being pissy about me ruining his dreams of being a cat farmer.”
“Distract him with a blow job?”
Ryan groans, “You are entirely unhelpful you know that, right? Christ, distract him with a blow job, what the fuck kind of advice is that?”
“It’s better than shoot him in the knee cap, just saying.”
Spencer sees Bryar waving him over and he sighs. “Ry? I’ve gotta go.”
“Of course you do. Don’t get killed, okay?”
“I’ll try my best.”
“Okay. Bye, Spence.”
“See you, Ry.” Spencer hangs up and sighs. He hates saying goodbye to Ryan, especially when he hasn’t seen him in so long. He tucks his cell in his pocket and makes his way over to Bryar. At least work can distract him.
--
“What are you doing?”
Spencer looks up from where he’s connecting a GPS tracker to a tie pin.“Hmm?”
Brendon is standing staring at him, but at least it’s a lot less hostile than the looks he’s been throwing Spencer’s way for the last five hours. Spencer’s crew had shown up and started installing cameras and a whole host of other things around Brendon’s house and for some reason that made Brendon even angrier. Spencer will never really understand people.
“I asked you what you’re doing.”
Spencer frowns, concentrating on his task. “I thought you didn’t want me to speak to you.”
“It’s possible I over-reacted and took my fear and frustration over not being in control of the situation out on you. Well, according to my therapist, anyway. Really I’m just not very sociable and hate most people. So, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Spencer shrugs. “Happens all the time.”
Brendon snorts a little and Spencer looks up at him, squinting against the glare from the sun.Up close, now that he's not throwing a fit, Brendon doesn't look much younger than Spencer. Spencer knows from his files that Brendon is older than him, but from everything he’s seen this morning Spencer likes to think he has maturity on his side.
“You were going to tell me what you were doing?”
“Oh,” Spencer holds up a tie pin, “GPS tracker. So if I lose you, which isn’t likely, or you somehow manage to do the runner, which is more likely, I’ll be able to find you.”
Brendon comes closer and sits down next to Spencer. “But wouldn’t I just ditch the tie pin?”
“In my experience, when someone’s attempting to run away the last thing they’re going to remember is that they’re wearing this.” Spencer solders another wire, “Usually by the time they do remember, I’ve already caught up with them.”
“But doesn’t it defeat the purpose now that I know about it?”
Spencer smiles a little. “Who says this is the only GPS system that’ll be on your person?”
“You can’t make me wear it, you know. I do have rights.”
Spencer takes in Brendon’s folded arms and glare and turns back to the soldering iron. “So, question. What is it exactly that you’re so against? Me being your bodyguard, having a bodyguard or not dying?”
“Being told what to do, actually. I don’t want to die and I don’t really care who it is protecting me, but I had no say in this and I hate being told what I can and can’t do.”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do and as far as I can tell, I haven’t yet.” Spencer reaches for a pair of pliers. “It’s not really my thing, you know, barging into people’s lives and barking orders. I’m just here to protect you. As long as what you’re doing is safe and isn’t going to put you in a dangerous situation, or get me shot, you’re free to do what you want, when you want.”
“As long as you can come with, right?”
“Yep. Bit hard to protect you when you’re three blocks away.” Spencer frowns in concentration and snips some excess wire.
“You know, if you attach the red wire to the green, it’ll work as a conductor and then you won’t need so much solder.”
“How do you know?” Spencer looks over at him again.
“I thought--don’t you get briefed on that sort of stuff before you sign on to protect me?”
Spencer looks back down and keeps soldering. He's not really willing to take the advice of a guy he met five hours ago. He needs to know this is going to work.“Mmhm.”
“How much do they tell you?”
“I know that you graduated from MIT when you were seventeen. I know that you freelance for government agencies and that you can build a hard drive from scratch in two hours. I also know that you stumbled across classified information and now there’s reason to believe that someone is out to get you.” Spencer starts screwing the back on the pin. “I also know that when you were in the seventh grade you were given a two day suspension for changing the passwords on all of the main office computers.”
“They told you all of that?”
Spencer finishes with the last screw and grins. “No, that’s what I found out myself. What they told me is that they can’t tell me anything because it’s classified, but that the threat is coming from somewhere unknown.”
Brendon frowns. “But--how are you supposed to keep me safe if you don’t even know what it is you’re keeping me safe from?”
Spencer grins. “Because I am very, very good at my job.”
“So I’m supposed to trust you to protect me from whoever is out there when one of the biggest government agencies can’t?”
“Yep.”
“Oh. Great.” Brendon frowns, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “How many times have you been shot?”
Spencer raises an eyebrow. “You’re not going to get shot.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Spencer finishes packing his stuff up. “I’ve shot people more than I’ve ever been shot.”
“Still not answering my question.”
“Five times.” Spencer shrugs. “But none of my clients have ever been, and I don’t plan on starting with you.”
Brendon nods and hands Spencer a pair of pliers. He takes them and packs them away. “Thanks.”
“So--what happens if I want to go out?”
“I come with you. It’ll just be like you’re going out with a friend, except I’ll be carrying a gun and you won’t be able to go off alone.”
“Okay.”
Spencer stands and stretches, “It’s going to be fine, yeah? All you have to do is be alert and if anything out of the ordinary happens, let me know. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Can do.”
--
Spencer’s in the kitchen, nursing a glass of milk, when a figure appears in the doorway. His instincts kick in and his hand is on his gun before he even thinks about it. He withdraws his hand when he sees Brendon.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Spencer shakes his head. “Reflex. Can’t sleep?”
“Not really. I’m not used to--they took my computers, so I’m a bit-- lost, I guess.” Brendon pours himself some milk and sits across from Spencer. “Is it--do you think it’s weird that nothing has happened? You’ve been here two days and before you there was other agents and--” he sighs. "Something should have happened, right?”
“Not necessarily. In my experience unknown threats are unknown for a reason.”
Brendon frowns and runs his fingers over the condensation on his glass.“What reason?”
“Oh.” Spencer shrugs. “Element of surprise, mostly. It’s a bit hard to plan a defense when you don’t know what the attack is, or where it’s coming from.”
“So, we’re sitting ducks?”
“Not exactly. The fact that we know there is a threat is a good start. The fact that I’m here and my crew is on standby, that we have surveillance and a game plan; those are all good things.” Spencer smiles a little. “We might not know the rules of the game, but we’re still playing it.”
“So, it’s just a game?”
Spencer drinks some of his milk. “It’s like chess. He makes a move, we’ll counter it.”
“I suck at chess.”
“Well,” Spencer grins, “I’m a master.”
Brendon smiles weakly and keeps running his fingers over the glass. Spencer watches him, studying the pattern his fingers make.
“Treble clef.”
“Hmm?” Brendon snaps out of his reverie. “Sorry?”
“Treble clef.” Spencer nods his head at the pattern Brendon’s traced in the condensation.
“Oh, yeah. I flirted with being a music major for a little while.”
“Yeah? Why’d you change your mind?”
Brendon shrugs. “I didn’t. It wasn’t really an option.”
Spencer opens his mouth to speak, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He opens it and scrolls through a message and then casts a glance out the window.
“Something wrong?”
“Maybe,” Spencer stands and takes hold of Brendon’s arm,. “Let’s move to the den, okay?”
Brendon nods and lets Spencer lead him. “What’s going on?”
“Just someone loitering near the gates. There’s a tail on them, but just to be on the safe side, I’d like to keep you out of sight.”
Brendon folds his arms across his chest and sits on the couch. “Okay.”
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s probably nothing.”
“Or it could be someone waiting to bust a cap in my ass.”
Spencer snorts. “Really? A cap in your ass?”
“Whatever, it’s a totally valid phrase.”
“Uh huh.” Spencer flops down on the couch and turns the TV on, keeping the volume down low enough that if there’s a disturbance he’ll hear it. “Oh hey, I love this movie.”
Brendon starts laughing, “The Bodyguard? You--for real? You are a bodyguard.”
“So what? You never watch movies about nerdy hackers?”
“Hey!” Brendon punches him in the thigh and Spencer turns his head and looks at him, raising his eyebrow menacingly.
“Remember when Shane asked me if I could pull some Chuck Norris moves to make you clean your room?”
Brendon nods and Spencer grins evilly. “Punch me again, and you’re going to wish you only had Chuck Norris to deal with.”
Brendon last all of two seconds before he bursts out laughing. “Oh my god.” He takes the remote out of Spencer’s hand and changes the channel. “Star Wars kicks The Bodyguard’s ass any day. Besides, you are so much more Harrison Ford than you are Kevin Costner.”
Spencer sighs dramatically, “Fine, but only because there are light sabers.”
“And Ewoks.”
Spencer nods. “Well, duh.”
--
“I’m bored.”
Spencer looks up from his computer. “Sorry?”
“It’s not your fault.”
“No, I didn’t--never mind. What did you say?”
“I said, I’m bored.” Brendon flops down next to him. “I need to get out of this house.”
Spencer frowns back at the computer screen and keeps scrolling. “Where did you want to go?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere. Coffee sounds good, oh wait no, Mexican.”
“You just ate, like an hour ago.”
“So? I’m a growing boy.”
Spencer sighs and enters a password, searching through another file. “Okay, well. I need to finish up here, so give it an hour and we’ll go.”
“What are you doing?”
“Oh. I’m looking through some more information about you actually.” Spencer smiles a little. “My crew’s been digging.”
Brendon leans in to look at the screen, hooking his chin over Spencer’s shoulder, and Spencer holds himself still and pushes away the urge to move.
“You need to know that I won a science fair in the fourth grade? How is that important?”
“Everything is important. The more I know about you, the easier it is for me to protect you.” Spencer opens another file and starts to read. Brendon’s quiet for a minute, reading over Spencer’s shoulder.
“You could just ask me yourself, you know.”
Spencer nods. “I could. But you could also lie, so.”
“What sort of dick would lie to the person whose supposed to be protecting them?”
“You’d be surprised. Three of the times I got shot was because the client lied.” Spencer shrugs. “It happens. Human nature and all that.”
“I’m not going to lie.”
Spencer looks at him. His eyes are wide and he looks so fucking earnest. Earnest with a side of terrified and vulnerable and a hell of a lot of attractive. Spencer sighs and closes the computer. “Okay. Okay, let me get changed and I’ll let my people know we’re moving, and then we’ll go okay?”
“Awesome. You won’t regret it, Spence.”
Spencer raises an eyebrow. “Spence?”
“Spencer is so formal.” Brendon shrugs and smiles at him. “I’d prefer to think of us as friends.”
“Friends.”
“Yeah you know, just two guys hanging out, watching movies and talking shit.” Brendon grins. “One of them just happens to have a gun.”
“Uh huh.”
Brendon’s face falls a little. “It’s cool. I get it. This is just a job, forget I sa--”
Spencer reaches out and rests a hand on his arm. “Friends sounds good, Brendon.”
“Yeah? Okay, awesome.” Brendon picks up the remote. “I’ll stay here while you change.”
“Okay. Try and stay out of trouble.”
Brendon mocks salutes him. “Will do.”
Spencer sighs, rolling his eyes and walks off to get changed.
--
“So,” Brendon picks up the menu and starts to scan it. “Why did you choose being a bodyguard?”
“Oh, I don’t know really. I just kinda fell into it.”
Brendon raises an eyebrow. “You just fell into carrying a gun and putting your life on the line for strangers?”
“Okay when you put it that way.” Spencer shrugs. “I was going to be a cop. I had graduated from the Academy and the idea was that I would eventually work towards joining the FBI.”
“So, what happened?”
“About a week after I graduated, this guy came up to me and offered me a job being a bodyguard. The money he offered was amazing and the job sounded interesting, so I said I’d think about it.”
“You weren’t sure?”
Spencer frowns. “I wasn’t not sure? It’s just--it’s one thing to be a cop and knowing you might have to put your life on the line for someone else, but it’s another to go in knowing that you could die protecting someone, if that makes sense.”
Brendon nods. “Yeah, it does.”
“So I told him I’d think about it, and then he offered to let me go on a job, protecting someone who had witnessed a murder.” Spencer smiles a little just thinking about it. “Except somehow me and the client managed to get separated from the rest of the crew. We had no back up, no communication, nothing. So I took him to my best friend's apartment and we stayed there for a week.”
Brendon laughs. “What did your best friend think about hiding a witness?”
“He was more than okay with it.” Spencer smiles fondly. “They ended up falling in love and are getting married next month. I’m best man.”
“Really? Wow, that’s awesome.”
Spencer nods. “Yeah. Yeah it really is.”
The waitress comes over, and they order their food. Brendon picks at the edge of his napkin. “Does it ever get lonely?”
“Sometimes.” Spencer shrugs. “When I have downtime it does for sure, but I don’t know, sometimes I get an awesome client and I don’t even think about it.”
“Like me?”
Spencer laughs a little. “Yeah, like you.”
Brendon grins at him and then looks away, blushing. He looks back and Spencer smiles at him, but any moment they might be having is interrupted by the waitress bringing their drinks.
“So, tell me something about yourself.” Brendon says, taking a sip of Coke.
“What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me.”
“Okay, then.” Spencer smiles, and starts telling him about his family. He knows he shouldn't be getting personal, he knows he’s here to do a job but he can’t help it. There’s something about Brendon that draws him in, makes him want to tell him all of his secrets.
Brendon laughs at something he says and Spencer’s stomach twists. Fuck, he thinks. This is not going to end well.
--
Spencer gets the call at 4am. He’s just finished doing a double check of the locks when his phone starts ringing, and he knows this is it. He jumps to action before he’s even said hello.
Brendon is asleep on the couch in the den, the same place he’s slept every night for a week, and all it takes is Spencer shaking his arm roughly for him to wake up.
“Spen--”
Spencer shushes him and pulls him to the floor. “Listen to me carefully, okay? Someone is in the grounds. I need to get you out of the house and to the car. Under no circumstances are you to leave my side unless I tell you.”
Spencer attaches the tie pin into the cuff of Brendon’s sleep pants and grips his arm.“I tell you to run, you run. Got it?”
Brendon nods quickly, his eyes wide and frightened. He lets Spencer pull him to his feet. “Stay behind me.”
Spencer pushes the door open slowly, and carefully looks around the corner. It’s dark and he can’t see anything. His phone vibrates in his pocket again. He slips the wireless earpiece into his ear and presses send. “Laena? Tell me I’m clear.”
“He’s still in the grounds. You should be clear to get to the garage but take it slow. No heroics this time.”
Spencer wraps his fingers around Brendon’s wrist. “It was one time.”
“Twice.” Spencer can hear the click click of a key board. “Okay, Trav’s got a sight on him. Slow, Spence.”
“Got it.” Spencer makes his way down the hallway, keeping a firm grip around his wrist. Brendon’s pressed along his back and Spencer can feel him shaking, his breathing coming in short, ragged pants.
“Laena, how are we doing?”
“Still clear. He’s at the south entrance. Trav’s trying to get the shot.”
Spencer walks a little faster and then he hears cursing and then Laena’s voice in his ear. “Shit, there’s two of them. They’ve doubled back, Spence, you need to run for it.”
The sound of a gunshot follows her voice. Something whizzes past his head and then the vase above Brendon’s shoulder shatters. He pushes at Brendon, ordering him to stay down, and Spencer starts shooting, yelling for Laena to give him information. A shadow crosses past the window and Spencer shoots at it. He grabs hold of Brendon and runs, still shooting. He sees another shadow, a gun point at them and he doesn’t think, he points and shoots and he knows, even as he’s dragging Brendon toward the car, that it was a direct hit.
They make it to the garage and Spencer pushes Brendon into the front seat, then get in himself, pressing the button to open the garage door. He puts his foot down on the gas. “Get as low down as you can, Brendon.”
Brendon gets down on the floor, his head ducked down as Spencer speeds out of the garage. Spencer heads for the gates, ducking when a bullet ricochets off the trunk of the car. “I need the gates open.”
“Got it, Spence.”
Spencer can see the electric gates opening and then he flies through the gap, checking that they’re closing behind him.
“Fuck.”
“I’ve got safe house two ready for you, Spence.” Laena’s voice is calm and a welcome relief from the pounding of his heart and the ragged breathing coming from Brendon.
“Thanks. Is someone with Valdes?”
“Annie’s on it. She’s going to take him and meet up with Suarez and then move him to a secure location.”
Spencer checks the rear view mirror. “Have I got a tail?”
“Nope, all clear.”
“Okay. Who's meeting us?”
“Let me check.” He hears Laena hit a couple of keys, “Ashlee and Johnson are there now. Trav’s going to relieve him in the morning but Ash’ll stay until this is over.”
“Right. Thanks, Laena.”
“Take care.”
“Will do.” Spencer presses a button on his phone and then holds out a hand to Brendon, helping him back up on the seat, “Hey, it’s okay.”
Brendon shakes his head, “It’s not okay. We were shot at, Spencer.”
Spencer reaches into the backseat and feels around for a blanket and then passes it to Brendon. “But we weren’t shot, so it’s a win.”
“In what fucking universe do you count being shot at, but not being shot, a win”
“Hey,” Spencer reaches out and rests his hand on his arm, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I am so not okay. Someone just shot at me. At both of us and you’re like--Jesus fucking Christ, you’re totally like Kevin Costner.” Brendon shakes his head and pulls the blanket around him. “How the fuck is this even my life?”
Spencer checks his mirrors again. “I have better hair than Kevin Costner. Plus, if I pulled that stunt with the samurai sword and the scarf, my best friend would kill me. He has a lot of feelings about accessories.”
“Stop trying to distract me.”
“I’m not, I’m just pointing out fact. My hair is way better than Kevin Costner’s and, quite frankly, I’m hotter too.” Spencer shrugs. “It’s simple physics.”
Brendon rolls his eyes. “I don’t even know what you’re saying right now. All I’m hearing is Hi, my name is Spencer and I’m a crazy person who gets shot at for a living.”
“It’s really not that bad. You get used to it.”
“No. You might be used to it, but I’m not, and I don’t plan on ever getting used to it.” Brendon pulls the blankets higher around him. “I’m going to sleep and hopefully when I wake up this will all have been a really, really fucked up dream.”
Spencer watches him shut his eyes and sighs. “I’ll wake you when we stop.”
When Brendon doesn’t reply he turns the radio on low and just drives.
--
Spencer drives for what feels like forever, his eyes drooping more and more the longer he stares at the road stretching out in front of him, a never-changing straight line where even the scenery stays the same. He pulls into a drive-thru and buys the biggest coffee he can, and then finds a spot in the car park, close to the exit just in case. Brendon’s still asleep in the seat beside him, so he reaches across and pulls the blanket up over Brendon where it’s slid down, and then gets out of the car, locking it behind him.
He pulls out his phone and dials, resting against the car. He can’t afford to let Brendon out of his sight and if he’s really honest with himself, he doesn’t really want to. Spencer keeps his voice low, just in case.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Spence? Hey what’s up?”
Spencer scans the surrounding area. “I got shot at again.”
“Jesus. Are you okay? Is the client okay?”
“I’m okay. Brendon’s pissed, though. Pissed and terrified.”
“Understandable. Wait, Brendon? It’s Brendon now?”
“Ryan, don’t start.” Spencer picks at a loose thread on his shirt. “It’s not a thing.”
“Fucking liar, it is so a thing. You never use first names, Spence. You still call Jon, Walker.”
Spencer sighs, “He’s just--I like him okay? He’s a good guy and I don’t know, I have fun with him. It doesn’t feel like work.”
“But, Spence, it is work.”
“I know that, Ryan.” Spencer snaps and then winces. “Sorry, sorry. I just--I know. I do.”
Ryan’s quiet for a moment, his breathing steady and calming in Spencer’s ear. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Spencer deflates. “I know and I won’t. I’m just being ridiculous.”
“You’re not. You’ve been doing this for a while now, Spence. You were bound to want something more eventually.”
“I guess.” Spencer sighs, “I should get going.”
“Okay. Stay safe, Spence.”
“I will. Say hi to Walker for me.”
Ryan laughs and Spencer relaxes at the sound. “I will.”
Spencer hangs up and rests his forehead against the car door. He sighs and gets back in. There’s still a while to drive yet.
--
Brendon wakes up ten minutes after Spencer gets back into the car and the rest of the drive is quiet. Brendon doesn’t say much of anything, only speaking to thank Spencer for the coffee and muffin and Spencer doesn’t try to push.
Eventually Spencer turns onto a familiar gravel road, and through two giant black iron gates that shut closed behind the car with a reassuring clang.
“Where are we?”
Spencer drives the car up a long driveway and pulls to a stop outside of a large cottage. “Safe House.”
“I thought safe houses were supposed to be run down and roach-infested.”
“You watch too many movies, Brendon.” Spencer grabs a backpack out of the backseat and then walks around to open the car door for Brendon, taking a quick look around. “Okay, come on.”
Spencer keeps a hand wrapped around Brendon’s wrist as they go inside, not letting go until the door is locked and alarm set.
“Okay. We’re going to stay on the bottom level for now. Bathroom is down the hall, the kitchen is on the left and the living room is through there.” Spencer points to the right. “There will be two other people staying with us at all times but I’m still the one in charge and I’m the one protecting you, okay? You need anything or if anyone tells you to do something, check with me first.”
“Okay, got it.” Brendon pauses. “What about clothes and stuff?”
Spencer hands him the backpack he’d grabbed from the car. “Here. I packed you some stuff.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“No problem. You can go and lay down on the couch if you want. I’ll be in after I make a phone call.”
Brendon nods and Spencer watches him walk away.
--
Brendon’s asleep on the couch when Spencer gets back from briefing Ashlee and Johnson. It’s always disconcerting how excited they get about the possibility of having to shoot someone. More so Ashlee, who tends to stroke the butt of her gun in unmitigated glee. At least Johnson tries to pretend that he isn’t a little bit bloodthirsty.
Still,he thinks, flopping down in an armchair, at least he can trust them to have his back.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, a status report, and when he looks up again, Brendon is awake and blinking owlishly at him.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Brendon pauses. “So, um, sorry about before. I was being a dick.”
Spencer shrugs. “It’s okay, it happens.”
“No, like--” Brendon pats the seat next to him. “Come sit?”
Spencer stands wordlessly, and crosses the room to sit next to Brendon. “I mean it, it’s okay.”
“You saved my life.”
“Well, yes, but it’s still okay. You were scar--” Spencer startles when Brendon cuts him off with a kiss. He freezes for a second, and then relaxes and lets him in. He shuts his eyes and kisses back, cupping Brendon’s face in his hands.
“I was scared because I thought you might get hurt.” Brendon says, pressing his forehead to Spencer’s.
Spencer strokes his thumb over Brendon’s jaw and swallows a little, “It’s my job, Brendon.”
“I know but--” Brendon sighs and pulls away a little bit. “I thought--it doesn’t matter.”
“Hey, no. It matters.”
Brendon shakes his head and picks up the remote. “Forget it, okay? Just--thank you for saving my life.”
“Brendon.”
“I said, forget it.”
Spencer sighs.“Okay, sorry.”
Brendon crosses his arms across his chest and stares at the TV. Spencer spends the rest of the night alternating between wanting to punch something and staring at Brendon’s mouth because it’s right there. Spencer thinks that being shot at is the least of his problems.
--
Two days later and it’s still awkward as fuck. Brendon alternates between not speaking while being in the same room as him, and walking out as soon as Spencer walks into a room which is annoying, but also has the side effect of making it really fucking difficult for Spencer to do his job.
Spencer’s taken to passing messages to Brendon through Ashlee, but she corners him and tells him to man the fuck up and that she isn’t here to play go between. Finally Spencer gets tired of being ignored so he corners Brendon in the living room.
“So look, I get it, you’re not talking to me, my presence makes you sick, whatever. But you are making it really fucking hard for me to do my job and quite frankly, if you end up getting killed because of this, I am going to be pissed. So if you don’t want to talk to me, then fine, don’t talk to me, but I swear to god if you walk out of the room one more time purely to avoid me, I’m going to tie you to a chair.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Spencer uses the bitch face he tends to use on his most difficult clients and Ryan. “Try me.”
“Whatever.”
“Good.” Spencer picks up the remote and turns the TV on. “And I’m not eating Pizza for dinner again tonight, so you'd better think of something else.”
Brendon huffs out a breath and Spencer sighs. It's a sign of just how gone he apparently is for Brendon because he actually feels bad. “I don’t want to be a hard ass,Brendon. But whatever is going on between us? It can’t get in the way of me keeping you alive.”
“There’s nothing going on between us, Spencer. This is just a job, remember?”
“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”
“Whatever, Spencer. I’ll behave and you can do your job and then you’ll never have to worry about me once this is all over.”
“Because that’s going to be so easy,” Spencer mutters.
“Excuse me?”
Spencer changes the channel. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
--
Spencer spends the next day doing paperwork and sending and receiving status reports. Travis arrives to relieve Johnson,and Spencer spends an hour or so shooting the breeze and laughing as he relays the story of Gabe’s latest attempts at seducing Greta.
He’s in the kitchen, reading a file on his laptop and drinking coffee when Brendon walks past with a bowl of cereal even though it’s 8pm. He’s sleep-rumpled and looks so fucking hot that Spencer’s stomach clenches in want and he almost wants to cry in frustration. Brendon catches him staring and his lips raise in a cautious smile. Spencer takes it as progress, trying to resist the urge to push him against the wall and kiss him until they can’t breathe, and he’s seriously, seriously considering giving in and just doing it--which is naturally when everything suddenly goes to hell.
He sees a flash of metal catching moonlight and he jumps into action before he can even think. He pushes Brendon to the ground as the sound of glass breaking registers in his brain, followed by the burn of hot metal in his arm and then his stomach but it’s Brendon screaming his name that send a thrill of fear through his body. There’s the sound of another window breaking and Brendon screams again. Spencer wants to say something, do something, but he can’t move. And then everything goes black.
Part Two