Fic: Act As If (1/2)
Act As If
Band: Panic at the Disco
Pairing: Ryan/Spencer
Word Count: 20,368
Rating: NC-17
Author Notes: I cannot thank my betas enough - insipid_paragon read this as I wrote it, lesasoja constantly reassured me, ignipes gave wonderful, thorough comments, and lovelypoet gave a much-needed final readthrough.
Summary: Bored during hiatus, Ryan and Spencer take a roadtrip.
Jon sighs. “You and Spencer, though, I don’t know. I think it’s that you’ve both been with someone most of the time I’ve known you. It’s kind of like,” he pauses and Ryan can hear the laughter in his voice when he speaks again, “when you had girlfriends I didn’t notice that you also had a boyfriend.”
Disclaimer: This is entirely made up.
cheapcrowd's wonderful fanmix is here.
Jon has a way of asking questions that makes Ryan see ten or twenty possibilities open up in front of him, instead of shutting things down to one possible answer.
They’re on the phone, idly playing guitars and singing random lyrics back and forth to each other even though it never works well over speakerphone. Something about the fourth or fifth day off after touring always makes Ryan want to reconnect, and he’s been bothering Jon and Brendon at least once a day. His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Spencer yelling from another room, telling him to “put the fucking milk back in the fridge for once, Ryan. What am I, your nanny?”
Jon can barely talk through his laughter. “Are you staying with him now?”
“No. I’m just here a lot. Dude, you know how it is.”
“Yeah, I always knew you’d eventually end up living with him. Is this a thing now? Are you finally consummating your love?” Jon pauses and when he starts speaking again, his voice is more serious, almost contemplative. “I mean, seriously, you’ve known each other forever. It must have come up at least once.” Jon’s question comes out of nowhere, but it’s not like he’s the first person to ask.
“Well, yeah. Of course it’s come up. We’ve been together forever.”
“Together, Ryan?”
“Shut the fuck up, you know what I mean. We’ve both thought about it before, it would be weird if we didn’t. But it just - didn’t happen.” His guitar is out of tune, just enough to make him notice and bother him. He fiddles with it while Jon keeps talking.
“Do you regret it? You know each other better than anyone else does, that’s gotta be kind of… tempting, maybe?”
He looks up, distracted from the guitar by the absurdity of the question. “Yeah, I’ve been eluding Spencer’s seductive grasp all these years.” He smiles at the phone, as if Jon can see him.
It’s kind of ridiculous, but he’s a little surprised Jon hasn’t brought it up before. Brendon did, back in the beginning when he didn’t have enough experience with them to realize that their closeness wasn’t what it sometimes looked like. Not that Brendon had much room to talk, when he attached himself to everyone in sight before settling into his year-long phase of gluing himself to Ryan.
Despite their few fumbling tries at making out years ago, locked in Spencer’s room in the few hours between the end of school and his parents getting home from work, it just never seemed like a good option. Out of all of his relationships, it’s pretty clear that the one with his best friend would be the worst one to fuck up.
Jon has gone entirely quiet.
Ryan prompts him. “Dude, what are you thinking?”
“I do get it. I know what it’s like to have no boundaries or personal space. But, dude, I lived out of a van with three other guys and I never once felt the need to do half the stuff you and Spencer do. I mean, I love Tom, but my head’s never been anywhere near his crotch, you know? And I get the whole ’fuck people who have problems with the way I express my masculinity’ thing, but like, I think people are generally pretty picky about stuff like that, no matter what their gender is.”
“It’s just not like that. And, hey, you’ve known us for like three years, why do you care now? You never ask why I didn’t hook up with Brendon.”
“That’s a different situation. And Brendon has already given me a lecture on it.” Jon sighs. “You and Spencer, though, I don’t know. I think it’s that you’ve both been with someone most of the time I’ve known you. It’s kind of like,” he pauses and Ryan can hear the laughter in his voice when he speaks again, “when you had girlfriends I didn’t notice that you also had a boyfriend.”
Ryan refuses to respond and Jon can’t hold in his laughter.
It’s really ridiculous in that way that most Jon-logic is, like he has to work out every crazy thought he has by inflicting them on other people. It’s a lot more charming when they’re both high than it is now.
“I’m changing the subject now.” Ryan doesn’t wait for Jon to assent. “You’re an asshole, by the way.”
Jon laughs louder than before.
_________________
Two weeks after they come off of tour, Ryan loses his laptop. He realizes this during family dinner time at the Smith house, and spends a few minutes silently freaking out about it, trying to remember where it could be. Spencer kicks him under the table, jolting him back into the conversation.
“I have no idea where my laptop is,” Ryan says plaintively.
Spencer looks up towards the ceiling for a moment, like he’s trying to remember, before looking back at Ryan and saying, “Probably in my guest room. Where you always leave it.”
Ginger turns to Ryan. “Are you staying with Spencer now? Honey, you only get so much time away from him. You should take advantage of it. It’s done wonders for us.” She smiles sweetly at Spencer, who rolls his eyes and scowls back at her.
“Mom, you know Ryan’s fragile. If I don’t keep him in sight he’s liable to get into trouble.”
Ryan kicks him in the ankle.
It’s just the two of them and Spencer’s parents tonight. Crystal and Jackie had done the hugs and I-missed-yous exactly one time after they got back, before managing to wiggle out of any sort of family interaction. Ryan and Spencer are just homesick enough that they’ve shown up dutifully a couple times since they got back. They can’t really resist the lure of food cooked somewhere other than a bus microwave.
“I don’t see why you don’t just move in permanently. Spencer has that huge house all to himself.”
Spencer laughs. “Yeah, Mom, I’m all alone. Ryan and I can save each other from a life of lonely bachelorhood.”
It actually doesn’t sound like that bad of an idea, as far as Ryan’s concerned, but he lets the subject drop. Jeff asks about Brendon and Jon and Pete, of all people, so Ryan jumps back into the conversation.
When they leave, they end up carrying more food than they can eat in a week. Spencer whines about getting fewer hugs from his own parents than Ryan gets, and Ginger just squeezes Ryan harder. Back when he was a teenager, Ginger had always given the impression of being two steps away from telling Ryan that he could move in with them permanently, any time he wanted to. She never said anything specific, like she was afraid it would break the fragile balance they had of Ryan dropping by with a duffel bag, acting as casual as he could while Spencer threw out a, “hey, Mom, Ryan’s staying for a while, okay?”
Once they’re back at Spencer’s house, Ryan collapses on the couch and hands over the Tupperware containers he’s holding to Spencer as he passes on his way to the kitchen. Spencer stops and looks down at him, challenging, but Ryan simply looks up at him, eyes wide and looking as sad as he can manage. Spencer scowls and grabs the food, putting it down so he can smack Ryan in the back of the head, and then picking it back up to take into the next room.
By the time he makes it back, Ryan has found the remote control and is flipping through channels, settling on Sundance. He finds a documentary about pop art and stretches out fully on the couch. Spencer shoves Ryan over to make room for himself, making him sit up. Ryan curls around him, nuzzling his head into Spencer’s neck and breathing heavily against him until Spencer laughs. Spencer jiggles his shoulder up and down to dislodge him, so Ryan scoots back and puts his head in Spencer’s lap, snuggling in. Spencer sighs and flicks him in the forehead, before giving in and paying attention to the TV.
“We’re the most boring rock stars in the world. You realize that, right? We never used to be this bad.” Spencer buries his hand in Ryan’s hair and pulls gently. “We’ll probably be in bed by midnight, after our exciting evening of TV and dinner with my parents.”
“If it makes you feel better, I slipped out while you and your dad were busy with the dishes and did a line of coke off of a stripper’s ass.” He manages to keep a straight face even as Spencer scowls and tugs harder on his hair. He should probably get a haircut before Spencer gets used to communicating his displeasure this way.
He turns on Spencer’s leg to face the TV again, resting back into the softness of Spencer’s stomach. When he starts to doze, Spencer pushes him off the couch onto the floor and sends him to bed.
_________________
Ryan has pretty much given up on being amused by outside sources and nestled himself into one of Spencer’s other guest rooms with three guitars. They orbit each other for a while, Spencer going about whatever it was he did when they weren’t out on tour (maybe organizing his sock drawer or making a ten-year plan) but more and more often, Spencer drops down onto the floor next to him and watches him work. His hand usually comes to rest at the small of Ryan’s back, and Ryan’s getting used to the solid warmth, like a brand.
Spencer finds him one day, sitting on the floor with his phone, telling Jon the story of losing his laptop at Spencer’s house (he finally found it, in the guest room.) It actually turned into a bit of an adventure when he figured out that Spencer’s house was also hiding Ryan’s copy of Glamorama and, for some reason neither he nor Spencer can fathom, Ryan’s sixth grade yearbook. When Jon asks to speak to Spencer, Ryan watches as Spencer frowns at the phone while Jon talks, and then hangs up on him, the tinny sound of Jon’s ridiculous, high-pitched giggle barely audible.
Spencer moves to the opposite wall, legs stretching out as he settles against it. He’s looking at Ryan with faint amusement and Ryan looks back down at the scattered papers in front of him, leaning over his guitar and frowning.
“Spence, if we were fictional, I’d be the heroine in a gothic novel, wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, man. You’ve kind of got a Chevalier Danceny thing going on. And you’re a hell of a lot less Byronic than you used to be.”
Ryan laughs and looks up. “Sometimes, like right now, I’m reminded of how weird we are.”
Spencer looks at him like he’s considering something. “You have a valid point. Fine, let’s play it a different way: if we were in a movie, you’d be the tragic hero that the heroine shouldn’t choose.”
That seems fair to Ryan. “Who would you be?”
“The solid, hardworking Right Guy,” he says, sounding completely smug and sure of his answer. His foot rests against Ryan’s knee, tapping idly.
“Oh, fuck you. You’re totally the plucky heroine.”
Spencer picks up a stray guitar pick and throws it at him. Ryan ducks.
“You are. I can hear the Mary Tyler Moore song in my head right now.”
Spencer grimaces at him. “This is why kids shouldn’t watch Nick At Nite.”
Ryan looks away and mumbles, “Yeah, that and the crush you used to have on Davy Jones.” He smiles at the floor.
Spencer sighs. “Sometimes I hate you so much I can barely even express it.” Ryan looks him in the eye and they smile at each other. He goes back to playing his melody, this time with Spencer humming along and tapping out a rhythm against the floor, telling him when his lyrics are a bad idea and smiling silently when he thinks they’re not.
_________________
Somehow, Spencer’s parents have managed to convince Spencer that grocery shopping for them is fair compensation for all the free dinners. Ryan thinks it’s kind of fun in its mundanity, walking up and down the aisles. Spencer pushes the cart, explaining to Ryan that “you might hurt yourself with your spindly little arms.” He pouts when Ryan punches him in the chest.
When Ryan comes back from another aisle, a bag of flour in his hands, he finds Spencer talking to a girl he vaguely recognizes. As he gets closer, his brain kicks in and reminds him that this is Mimi, who Spencer had a crush on in tenth grade. She’d shown up at a party Spencer threw, and ended up spending the evening hitting on Brent. Spencer had looked bruised around the edges for weeks, and destroyed a few dozen drumsticks until he got over it.
Ryan remembers being a little unavailable at the time. He’d been hooking up with a guy named Daniel from his English class (there was stuff Ryan could try with Spencer, and stuff that he just couldn’t) and Daniel had recently decided that he couldn’t quite reconcile the Catholic thing with the jerking Ryan off in his car thing. It was a confusing period of Ryan’s life.
He walks up behind Spencer, putting a hand against Spencer’s back and feeling him jump as he turns around.
“Hey, Mimi, right?” Ryan says.
She turns to him. “Hi, Ryan!” She’s got a bright, clear smile and seems like she might hug him in greeting. Ryan steps closer to Spencer.
“Mrs. Smith has you guys shopping?” she says.
Ryan looks down at the bag of flour still in his hand, and clutches it a little tighter. “Yeah, family errands. You know how it is.”
“That’s awesome. She must be really happy to have you both home. You guys were always like brothers.”
Ryan feels himself flinch, clenching his hand in the back of Spencer’s shirt. He can feel Spencer staring at him. None of them say anything for a moment, until Spencer leans forward to hug her.
“Hey, it was great to see you again. We should hang out sometime.”
She looks over his shoulder at Ryan as she agrees, and Ryan realizes that he’s still holding on to Spencer.
When she leaves, Spencer turns to look at him. Ryan looks right back.
Spencer rolls his eyes. “You can let go of me now. The scary girl is gone.”
“It’s just - she ditched you for Brent.”
“When we were fifteen. You’re a complete psycho. You know that, right?”
Ryan hums in agreement and lets go enough to put the flour in the cart.
_________________
Ryan’s boredom has become so acute that he’s risking the full fury of Spencer’s wrath by playing around with his drum kit. Ryan’s an awful drummer: he’s never been able to multitask well enough to keep more than one rhythm going at a time.
Spencer comes in when he’s spent about ten minutes attempting to coordinate the kick drum with the snare.
“If you were anyone else, you’d be lucky if I let you escape with your hands.” He’s leaning against the doorway, frowning at Ryan.
“You let Jon and Brendon play your drums,” Ryan says.
“That’s because Jon and Brendon can actually play.” He comes around behind Ryan, and when Ryan looks up, Spencer’s hands are on his hips and he’s frowning, as if he’s casting down judgment on the scene before him. “You’d think you would have picked more of it up by now. You’ve had years.”
He bends down into Ryan, curving around him as he picks up Ryan’s left hand and cradles it in his own. “Just keep the beat up with your foot, I’ll handle the rest.” Ryan can do that, he can keep solid half notes going in 4/4 on the kick.
Spencer grips Ryan’s hand around the drumstick and counts off in his ear. He uses Ryan to play out quarter notes on the snare, letting him get used to it for a few measures before grabbing his right hand. Ryan tries to relax into it as Spencer starts out fast eighth notes on the hi-hat, resting against Spencer and letting him move Ryan whichever way he wants to, but it doesn’t really come together. He needs his wrist to be looser for it to work, and he’s already tensing and huddling back into Spencer and away from the sticks, his muscles apparently sensing impending danger and withdrawing without asking him. They completely lose the rhythm and Spencer laughs at him. He rests his face against the back of Ryan’s neck for a moment, smiling, and then drops Ryan’s hands and backs away. Ryan feels like he should be tensing; the reality of Spencer’s body against him and his beard scratching against Ryan’s neck should unsettle him, but it doesn’t. Spencer moves fully away from him, coming around to the other side of the kit, and Ryan feels the absence keenly for a moment.
“Dude, if all of your lessons were like that, maybe I shouldn’t have pushed you into drumming at such a young age.”
“I believe in hands-on teaching.” He pulls a chair over, placing it right in front of the kit and straddling it, looking Ryan in the eyes. “And I don’t know why you think you pushed me into anything. I wanted to do it.” His voice is more earnest than he usually gets.
Ryan doesn’t remember it quite the same way. He wanted a band and he wanted to sing and play guitar, which meant he needed a drummer. Spencer had been making things work in Ryan’s life for quite a few years by then, so it wasn’t like there was another choice.
He rests the drumsticks on the snare and looks down at them. “But did I pressure you into this? I mean, you could be doing anything right now, but I’ve had you living on a tour bus and waking up in strange cities for a good four years now.”
“Yeah, it sucks. I’m barely old enough to rent a car, but we’re sitting in the house that I bought with my own money, which I earned doing something I love. This band thing was the worst idea you ever had.” There’s a smile in his voice and Ryan finally looks up at him. “What the hell, Ryan? Your emo used to at least be productive. If we don’t get songs out of your navel-gazing, I’m going to be pissed.”
Ryan laughs and passes the drumsticks to Spencer as he gets up. “Switch with me, I’ll get my guitar.”
_________________
After a night when he has finally convinced Brendon to go to one of his indie movies with him, Ryan stays late at Brendon’s, watching him play fight with Regan while Shane laughs. Dylan jumps up and down next to them, wanting attention. Keltie has custody of Hobo this month, but at least Ryan has Spencer’s dogs to play with. Which reminds him that it’s about time he left.
“Dude, you’re not crashing here?” Shane asks him.
He shakes his head and grabs Brendon by the arm, “Nah, Brendon’s giving me a ride home.” Brendon looks slightly put out but follows him out to the car, driving towards Ryan’s place without much protest.
“You should come over more often,” Brendon says as he makes a turn. They’re far enough out into the suburbs that there are only a few cars on the streets.
“Dude, I spend seventy percent of my year with you, I think we can both handle a break.”
“You know you miss me when we’re not attached at the hip. I pity you those long lonely nights spent pining for the bus.” He smiles widely, his teeth a bright flash in the dark of the car. “You should feel relieved that I’m man enough to handle it. Jon ran all the way to Chicago to get away, but I’m here for you, man.”
Ryan smothers a laugh. “See, this is why I need the break from you people.”
Ryan notices that they’re halfway to his house then and it occurs to him that he should tell Brendon to head towards Spencer’s instead.
Brendon raises his eyebrows at him but sharply changes direction. “Well, those are some awfully mixed signals.”
When they turn on to Spencer’s street, Ryan starts to take out his keys.
“Aren’t you going to call him?” Brendon asks as they pull up to Spencer’s house, letting the engine idle.
“Why? I have my key.” He fumbles for his keys and they drop onto the floor of the car.
When he bends over in the seat to pick them up, Brendon speaks slowly and deliberately, as if Ryan really needs to understand him. “I have a key too, Ryan. In case of fire or flood or if he’s fallen and he can’t get up. It’s for emergencies, not dropping in at two in the morning.” He laughs suddenly. “What, did you move in or something?”
“No. Well, kind of - but no, really, no.” He finally gets his keys and goes for the door handle without turning back to Brendon.
“Way to be sure of your answer there, man. When’s the last time you actually saw your condo?”
Ryan looks away. “I don’t know. A week and a half ago, maybe?” he mumbles.
He clambers out of the car, looking at Brendon out of the corner of his eye and seeing him smirk. He shuts the car door behind him without saying goodbye. Brendon peels off down the street.
He comes quietly into the house, taking his shoes off and placing them in the entryway as soon as he’s shut the door. The house is dark, and Ryan wonders what Spencer did with his evening, since he’d claimed he’s already paid enough Pretentious Movie Time With Ryan Ross dues for his entire life, and no amount of complaining about limited engagements will convince him to give in now. He pads softly on the hardwood floors towards Spencer’s bedroom. There’s soft light spilling into the hallway through the door that’s slightly ajar, so he peeks in, trying not to make any noise.
When he looks in he sees Spencer asleep on his stomach, covers tossed off of him and the bedside lamp still on. There’s a book on music management next to him on the bed, probably a gag gift from Pete. Ryan creeps in as quietly as he can. He sits on the side of the bed, looking at Spencer for a moment and trying not to wake him. Spencer stirs, as if he can feel Ryan there.
“Did Brendon bring you home?” Spencer’s voice is thick with sleep, and Ryan startles for a moment. He hadn’t expected Spencer to wake up.
“Yeah.” He shifts slightly closer, pushing Spencer’s hair back off of his face so he can see his eyes when they finally open. “I was about to head to my room.”
Spencer yawns and look at his bedside clock. “You should crash here tonight.”
“I just told you that I am.”
Spencer turns onto his side, still slow in his movements. “No, I mean you can stay here, if you want.”
Ryan’s hand stills in Spencer’s hair for a moment, waiting for some sort of confirmation that he’s hearing correctly.
Spencer yawns widely. “Or go to the guest room, whatever.”
Ryan lets out a breath. “Yeah, I’m going.” Spencer nods and his eyes close again.
He pulls the covers up over Spencer and turns off the light before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him. He waits for a minute with his back against the closed door, just listening to himself breathe, before heading off to his room.
_________________
Ryan sits in his car outside of Spencer’s house, staring at his phone. He could be inside if he wanted to; Spencer is out buying groceries or hanging with his sisters or bugging Brendon. He hadn’t really specified when he left, telling Ryan that they could probably stand to spend a few hours away from each other. He’d said it with a teasing smile, but when he left, Ryan still found himself heading outside and sitting alone, resolutely not freaking out.
He calls Jon without letting himself stop to think about it.
“I have no clue what I’m doing,” he says, before Jon can even finish saying hello.
“In general, or is this a specific thing?”
Ryan really needs Jon to take this seriously. “It’s just, you know how you brought up me and Spencer? And why we never, you know, did anything?” He waits for Jon to hum in assent. “I think we’re doing something now.”
Jon laughs at him. “If you’re calling me about it, then you’re already pretty deep into it, right?”
Ryan always forgets how well Jon knows him.
“So, what’s your problem? Is it just all too perfect?”
“No. I just, I have no idea where this is going.”
“Well, gee, Ryan, we’ve got two options here: either I can find one of Cassie’s old copies of Seventeen and we can look for advice, or you can be a grownup and talk to him about it.”
Ryan can’t think of a way that would go well. Spencer is reticent at the best of times and besides, Ryan shouldn’t need a roadmap to figure out what’s happening with Spencer, of all people.
Jon keeps talking. “Or, you could just play it by ear, and see where you end up.” Jon’s voice is mocking, but going with the flow is really sounding like the best option here.
“Okay, I’ll just play it by ear.” He can hear Jon’s exasperated sigh. “It’s a good idea.”
“Yeah, continuing to be clueless is totally not going to bite you in the ass here.” He pauses. “Hey, does this mean that I’m your first choice when you’re having a crisis that you can’t tell Spencer about?”
“What? I guess, yeah.”
“Can I tell Brendon?”
Ryan hangs up on him.
_________________
When Spencer gets home, Ryan’s lying on the floor, determinedly contemplating whether Spencer should get a new dining room set. Spencer pokes him in the side with his foot.
“Get up. We’re going on a road trip.”
“What?”
Spencer nudges him a little harder. “You’re bored. And, more importantly, you’re boring. So we’re going to your house so you can pack enough stuff for a week, and then we’re going somewhere.” He digs his toes into Ryan’s side, right where he’s most ticklish. Ryan curls up around Spencer’s leg, laughing.
“And you’re not telling me where, are you?”
“Nope.”
He pulls Ryan up off the floor, and supervises as he packs up his computer and notebooks, three of his guitars, and some of the clothes he has lying around on the floor of Spencer’s guest room. When he pulls everything together, they realize that they don’t even have to make the trip to Ryan’s house because he’s left enough stuff at Spencer’s to last him through a month-long trip.
They’ve loaded up Spencer’s car and are on the 15 headed out of the state towards California when Ryan finally can’t take it anymore and asks where they’re going. He’s been curled up in the passenger seat watching the world roll by for the past hour.
“It’s a surprise. We’ll be there in about eight hours. Actually, I’m making you drive at least half the way, so we’ll be there in eleven hours.” Spencer turns to grin at him quickly, before turning back to look at the road, pushing his sunglasses up on the top of his head to hold his hair back. He would usually have gotten it cut by now; the ends are touching his shoulders. In a few more weeks he’ll look like he wandered off a commune somewhere.
“How am I going to drive if I don’t know where we’re going?” he says, although it might be interesting to just drive and see where they end up.
“You’ll get on the 58 at Barstow and keep going west. I’ll take over when I need to.”
Ryan leans forward into his seat, opening the glove box and taking out Spencer’s California-Nevada-Utah-Arizona map. He unfolds it and tries out a few options.
“The Giant Sequoia National Monument is too close.” Spencer doesn’t answer. “Paso Robles sounds interesting.” Spencer sniggers. “Visiting your girlfriend at the prison in Chowchilla?” He finally gets Spencer to crack up.
“I’m not telling you. Just relax and enjoy the mystery.”
Ryan settles back into his seat and tries to follow the advice.
They actually haven’t done this together on their own before, Ryan realizes. There was always Trevor and Brent, or Brent and Brendon, or, even later, Brendon and Jon. By the time they were old enough that road trips would be a Smith-parent approved activity, they were living in a van and the idea had lost some of its appeal.
They stop to eat at a Baja Fresh in Bakersfield, the strip mall looking like every single strip mall they’ve ever been to. Jon likes to take pictures of chain stores wherever they are, building a collection of Krispy Kremes and Gap outlets stretched across the country. He’s really the only one of them who’s charmed by the idea.
Ryan has installed himself in his seat by the time Spencer slides into the chair across from him at the outdoor table. There’s an ugly green patio umbrella shading them, but Ryan still puts his sunglasses on.
Spencer’s brought him two chicken tacos and a Sprite, and as he says thanks he tries to remember if he told Spencer what to order for him. And wonders if Spencer would have listened or just got him whatever he thought was best. He can’t really argue with Spencer’s choice.
“Did you tell Brendon where we were going?” Ryan asks.
“I told him that we were going somewhere, and I’ll call Jon to tell him the same thing. Neither of them would hold out for more than two minutes if you called and asked them.”
“We are truly the band’s pillars of fortitude.” Ryan hooks his foot around Spencer’s ankle under the table.
Spencer laughs at him and digs into his shrimp burrito.
_________________
“So, why exactly didn’t we bring Brendon on this trip?” Ryan doesn’t want to disturb the equilibrium they’ve got going right now, with Spencer driving serenely and not mocking him when he sings along with the stereo, but it would probably be weird if he didn’t ask.
Spencer’s quiet for a moment before answering. “He wouldn’t want to go where we’re going,” he says. As Ryan opens his mouth to respond, Spencer says, “No, still not telling.”
“Besides, we don’t have to do everything as a group. Can’t we have some best friend alone time?” He takes one hand off the wheel and places it on Ryan’s knee. “We can reminisce about things every else is sick of hearing about! Remember that awesome Halloween party we had when we were eight and nine?”
“The one where you flipped out because someone else came dressed as the Blue Power Ranger?”
“The Blue Power Ranger was the smartest one! I had a kickass costume.”
“You know you shouldn’t still be angry about this, right?”
Spencer lifts a hand from Ryan’s leg and flips him off.
“Well, you’re at the same level of maturity as you were then, so I guess I can’t be that shocked,” Ryan says.
Spencer’s iPod is hooked up to the car’s stereo, and Ryan fiddles with it, scrolling back and forth through the artist list. He contemplates playing one of the Dresden Dolls songs he finds, but Spencer’s still kind of sensitive about the crush on Amanda he developed when they toured together.
He picks something innocuous and starts to play it. Spencer sings along softly, humming through some of the words. Ryan turns slightly and curls up further in his seat, watching Spencer sing along, tapping his hands on the steering wheel. He thinks he should get Spencer to sing more on the next album. He’s always up for it when they’re writing, and even on stage, but the minute he gets close to a microphone he clams up. When they were in the cabin, Ryan got so used to hearing Spencer’s voice in the mix of whatever they were doing that it always took him a minute to adjust to the change when they were recording.
Spencer turns his head away from the road for a moment, and then turns back after smirking at Ryan.
“You know, that’s kind of distracting. We’ve only got about six hours left until we get there and then you can longingly gaze at me all you want, for a whole week.”
Ryan feels his face heat and turns to look out the windshield.
_________________
About an hour outside of Bakersfield, they see a sign for an an outlet mall and look ruefully at each other.
“It’s okay if you want to go to the Nike store, man. I’ll support your decision.”
Spencer grimaces at him and makes the turn into the mall.
When they get to the store, Ryan follows his “Spencer in the presence of shoes” protocol, following behind him serenely and saying “hmmm” and “ahhhh” when appropriate. There’s a teenage salesgirl with subtly striped purple hair, a spacer in her ear, and a blush on her face, but he’s pretty sure Spencer hasn’t noticed her yet. Ryan smiles at her and she looks down, turning completely red. It’s never not cool when that happens. Sometimes on tour he’ll go two blocks over from whatever venue they’re at that day, far enough away from the crowd of screaming girls that he can walk down the street with no one noticing him, just to feel the contrast.
Spencer tears his eyes away from a pair of sneakers that honestly look the same as every other pair of sneakers and looks at Ryan.
“Do you want to do the autograph thing?” Spencer says, nodding at the girl.
“Yeah, sure, if she asks. And if it doesn’t seem like she’s going to post to her MySpace blog about the Ryan Ross/Spencer Smith rendezvous she witnessed.”
Spencer hands three shoeboxes to Ryan and then rests his hand at the small of Ryan’s back, leaning close. “Aw, baby. Don’t tell me you’re ashamed of our eternal love.” He grins and then walks two aisles away before Ryan can answer.
By the time they make their way out, Spencer has bought four pairs of shoes, they have signed two autographs for the surprisingly shy salesgirl, and Ryan is feeling a wave of goodwill towards Tulare, California. This is only increased when he sees the Geoffrey Beene store.
He goes a little crazy in the accessories section, and Spencer asks him if he needs someone to hold his purse while he tries things on.
“I know you were planning on going to Claire’s, Spence, so maybe you could pick one up while you’re there.”
The salesman seems a little confused by this exchange, but not enough to keep him from showing Ryan their extensive collection of cufflinks.
“Can you just buy some scarves so we can go?”
Ryan doesn’t even turn around to face him. “I swear, at the next rest stop I’m starting a bonfire with your shoes.” Spencer snickers and Ryan hears him move away. When he turns, Spencer is sitting in a chair with his legs crossed, looking like the world’s most bored husband. Ryan turns back to the salesman and asks about their sunglasses.
_________________
Ryan takes over the wheel in Fresno, letting Spencer settle in the passenger seat. Spencer’s car is remarkably small for him, bought before he hit that last growth spurt, and he has to push the passenger seat back as far as it can go.
Ryan’s following directions (“North on the 99, I’ll tell you if we need to make a change.”) and watching the cars roll by him when Spencer speaks up.
“Do you think they’re married?” He points to the couple in the car to the left and slightly ahead of them. A man and a woman in their thirties are arguing in their Mini Cooper. The woman is driving and keeps turning her head away from the road to speak to the man, whipping back around quickly as if she realizes she’s getting distracted. The man is gesturing wildly, hands waving as he speaks.
“They could be brother and sister, driving to their great aunt’s house for the reading of the will. They haven’t seen the rest of the family in years, but she promised to leave them a trust fund, so they’re going.”
Spencer picks up on the game immediately, and Ryan can hear the smile in his voice even though he doesn’t turn to look at him. “Or maybe they’ve been dating for years and they just found out they’re cheating on each other with the same woman.”
“Or, like, remember Mrs. Anderson and her boyfriend? The one who was like twenty-five?” Spencer laughs in agreement. When they were eleven and twelve their neighbor from down the street ran away with her boyfriend and most of her husband’s money. It was the big neighborhood scandal for a couple of weeks there, and Ryan and Spencer had kept up with it by listening to Spencer’s mom and the husband of their neighbor the stripper gossiping on the curb every morning before they left for work.
The man in the car has turned his head to the side, ignoring the woman and looking out the window, and Ryan stops looking before the guy notices him staring. He catches a glimpse of a roadside sign as they pass. Apparently they’re ninety miles outside of San Francisco.
“If you won’t tell me where we’re going, will you at least tell me what we’ll be doing there?”
“Enjoying California’s natural wonders,” Spencer says. When Ryan glances at him out of the corner of his eye, he’s smiling softly at him. “Just drive. I promise you it’ll be worth it.”
_________________
When they cut past the entire Bay Area, Ryan starts to get very curious. Spencer pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, probably directions to wherever they’re going, and smiles to himself as he continues driving. It lasts about an hour, Ryan shifting in his seat, until Spencer takes a turn off the highway and they’re suddenly in the country, surrounded by rolling green hills striped with rows of grapes.
“You brought me to a winery?”
Spencer pulls into the hotel’s parking lot. “Shut up. I thought you’d appreciate it. If we get bored, we’ll just drive down to San Francisco, maybe hit some clubs and pretend we’re more famous than we actually are.”
“And if we stay here?” The hotel’s really nice, actually, and the vineyards are so close he can see them from inside the car.
“We’ll go on some vineyard tours and you can buy overpriced wine. If you’re good, I’ll even pay for the in-room couples’ massage.” He pops the trunk and gets out of the car without looking at Ryan. Ryan follows.
_________________
Ryan realizes that this may be the best idea Spencer has ever had when they get inside their room.
Spencer pushes him further into the room with his bag, shutting the door behind him while Ryan gapes at the fireplace and sitting room. “Dude. How much did this set you back?” It’s a little overwhelming. Spencer’s the only one of the four of them who hasn’t had an accountant put him on an allowance, so the splurging is unexpected.
Spencer ignores him and checks out the minibar before coming back to lie down on the bed and look at him. “It’s a vacation, don’t worry so much about it. Go explore if you want to, I’m taking a nap.”
Ryan decides that that’s as good a plan as any and moves past his own bed to settle next to Spencer.
Spencer seems headed quickly towards sleep, but Ryan feels too tense, as if he needs to act now or he’ll miss his cue. He shakes Spencer awake, and when Spencer’s eyes open, Ryan leans in and kisses him.
It’s not actually that awkward, and Ryan thinks he probably should have expected it to be more so. There’s something very weird about kissing someone who knows everything about you in every way except this one. They’ve done this before, years ago, but never with any sort of intent. It starts out well, no bumping noses or clacking teeth, none of the clumsiness he would expect from someone new, and that’s kind of the worst part. He wants a big, embarrassing moment to break the tension that should be there, so they can laugh it off and get going on whatever this is. But there’s none of that, just the sweep of Spencer’s tongue against his lips and the feel of his heart beating against Ryan’s, and Ryan can’t help but tense at the thought that something has to go wrong soon.
It doesn’t, and when Spencer pulls away to smile at him, Ryan smiles back. He lies back on the bed and goes to sleep.
_________________
The first thing they do when Ryan wakes Spencer up is talk to the concierge. It’s clear that he and Spencer confuse the hell out of her: they’re younger than anyone else Ryan has seen in the hotel unaccompanied by a parent, and they’ve got a double room, so she pretty obviously has no idea what they’re doing here together. She promises to give them a discount on the (apparently fascinating) Wine Train, though, so he takes pity on her and explains that they’re just really good friends. Spencer snickers from a few feet behind him, and Ryan refuses to acknowledge him.
_________________
Ryan thinks he might be getting prematurely old, because he’s starting to translate “boring” into “relaxing,” sitting in the lobby of the hotel with Spencer after their return from the completely uneventful Wine Train Extravaganza. It had actually been nice, despite lasting four hours and involving learning more about wine, train travel, and the financial and emotional well-being of everyone else who had been suckered into attending the trip than he ever expected or wanted to. He pressed against Spencer as the train moved, pretending to pay attention to whatever their host was rambling about while he looked out the window and watched the endless green fields pass by. He’d turned to Spencer to joke about how they’d have trouble working this into a song without everyone reading it as another drug reference, and found Spencer already looking at him. Spencer had looked down and poked Ryan in the leg before turning back to hear about the complex and storied history of the Napa Valley, and Ryan looked back out the window, smiling.
When they get back to their hotel room, Spencer throws a sport jacket at him and then goes to change out of his jeans. Ryan watches him put on his own blazer in confusion, before Spencer explains. They are apparently going to completely live the cliché, and so Ryan finds himself in the hotel lobby, waiting for their table to be called so they can take advantage of the hotel restaurant. As they’re led in and seated, Ryan leans forward to whisper to Spencer, “What, you’re not pulling my chair out for me?”
Spencer laughs. “Fuck you, I’ve already given you my best moves. You can seat yourself.”
It’s surprisingly not very different from any other time they’ve gone out to eat in a nice restaurant, and it makes Ryan wonder if it always looked like this, some weird amalgam of dinner out with the family and a prom date. When their server comes by, Ryan makes Spencer order for him, earning a pointed look and reluctant compliance. It’s actually fun to sit back and see how it unfolds.
Spencer waits until the server leaves before scowling at him. “Are you also expecting me to walk you to your door tonight?”
Ryan leans back in his chair and holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, you changed the rules first. I’m just trying to figure out boundaries here.”
Spencer looks down and smiles, but he still kicks Ryan under the table.
“We should do this more often, at home,” Spencer says, his voice light.
Ryan stops to think about it. “Yeah, nothing shuts down those gay rumors like fine dining together.”
Spencer looks up at him then, considering. “I’m sure we’d find a way to deal with it.” His voice isn’t exactly vehement, but it’s a lot stronger than Ryan’s expecting.
He tries a slight smile. “Yeah, maybe.” He kicks Spencer back and watches him relax. They sit in comfortable silence until the food arrives.
_________________
There’s a good dose of cosmic irony in the fact that they fail so spectacularly at golf when they get around to trying out one of the courses near the hotel. They stick it out for a few holes, until Spencer decides that it’s not worth it and they go to sit by the pool.
Spencer stretched out on a deck chair is distracting in a way that Ryan never imagined it would be, with his legs extended in front of him and his skin glowing in the sun. No one with that many freckles should tan easily, but Spencer never seems to burn.
Ryan sits up in the deck chair next to him, still in a t-shirt, which had caused a silent argument when they first got there. Spencer had sat and stared at him for a moment when they got to the pool, stripping down to his shorts and then settling back to look expectantly at Ryan. That was all the impetus Ryan needed to keep his clothes on. They sighed meaningfully at each other for a while until Spencer gave up and laid back with his sunglasses on.
It’s surprisingly easy between them, like there hasn’t been much of a change at all beyond the physical. Spencer stands closer, he leans into Ryan, lays kisses on his neck before moving away without saying a word, but everything else has stayed the same. Ryan feels like he’s missed a step, like they jumped ahead a month or so without anyone telling him. There’s just no way it should be this easy.
“Stop thinking; there’s nothing to figure out.” Spencer doesn’t even take off his sunglasses, speaking to Ryan without turning to him.
Ryan tries to follow his advice.
_________________
The private veranda may be the best part of the hotel, with its huge wooden rocking chairs on a secluded porch overlooking a fountain. Spencer has taken out one of the towels from their bathroom and is lying on the floor in his boxers, soaking up as much sun as he can. Ryan pulls farther back into the shade, curled up in the rocking chair with a notebook. It’s late enough in the year that they can be outside at seven and still have sun.
“I bring you out to Wine Country in the spring, and you refuse to take advantage of it. The sun won’t hurt you, Ryan.” Spencer doesn’t even open his eyes as he speaks. Ryan realizes that he has on his huge sun hat with its wide brim and the Jackie O sunglasses he picked up in the women’s accessories section of the Geoffrey Beene in Tulare, and thinks that Spencer may have a point.
”Come down here with me. I promise you won’t burst into flame when the sun touches you.” He opens his eyes and turns to Ryan, holding out a hand. Ryan puts his notebook down and steps down from his perch on the rocking chair to sit next to Spencer.
He drops awkwardly next to Spencer and pulls off his hat and sunglasses, his shirt and pants, until he’s in his underwear just like Spencer is. Ryan curls up into him, pushing slightly until Spencer moves enough to let them both have at least a little bit of the towel. Spencer turns on his side, and Ryan wonders if he’s taking up too much space until Spencer puts a hand against his jaw and turns his head so they’re looking each other in the eye. They stay that way for a while, Spencer’s eyes moving like he’s searching for something but never stopping the eye contact he’s keeping with Ryan. When Ryan’s about to crack a joke and break the moment, Spencer leans in and casually kisses him. Hs hand drifts down Ryan’s jaw to rest against the side of his neck, shifting his hand until he’s gripping Ryan, angling his head the way he wants it. He turns more fully into Spencer, rubbing his thigh against Spencer’s just to feel the rasp of the hair on their legs. Spencer shifts up into him, tangling their legs together.
Its lazy and unhurried, and Ryan thinks it fits the mood of this place and this vacation, no rush to do anything, but always full of possibility. He thinks that maybe it’s time to take Spencer up on that.
He pulls back from the kiss and Spencer’s mouth goes to his throat, replacing his hand where he’d been resting it. Ryan pulls Spencer closer and says, “We should go inside.”
Spencer mumbles, “Relax, no one can see us from here,” into his neck.
“No, I mean, this will be a lot more comfortable if we go inside.”
Spencer pulls back fully, the “Ryan, why are you so difficult?” look of fond exasperation on his face. Ryan doesn’t say anything and waits for Spencer to catch up. He can see the moment when Spencer gets it, sitting up quickly and pulling Ryan along with him.
When they’re settled on the bed, Spencer winds his long legs around him, and Ryan can’t stop looking at the nick in the side of Spencer’s knee from when he fell while playing tag when they were ten and eleven. And Ryan realizes all of a sudden that this is how he always thinks of it, “when we were seven and eight,” “when we were twelve and thirteen,” like he can’t have one without the other. It’s the strangest mix of novelty and familiarity. Spencer’s huffing against his neck, warm breath and the scratch of his beard making Ryan shiver against him. The scent of Spencer’s skin should be almost mundane at this point, but it’s not right now, with Spencer close enough that he can’t smell anything else.
Spencer runs his nails along Ryan’s sides, drawing his attention back to him. “Stop thinking for once,” he says, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. Ryan wants to tell him what he was thinking, but he gets distracted when Spencer leans up as far as he can and pulls Ryan’s head back to him. They’re getting used to kissing now, everything from the casual pecks that Spencer feels free to drop onto his lips whenever the mood strikes him to the long minutes he’s been spending tucked up close against Ryan’s body, licking into his mouth with his hands cupped around Ryan’s jaw as if he’s trying to tell him something important using nothing but his breath and his tongue against Ryan’s. Ryan just holds on, hoping he’ll understand the message eventually.
He breaks away, sliding down Spencer’s body and stripping him of his boxers as he goes. He knows it must be the least seductive act ever, so he stops thinking about it, taking Spencer’s cock in his mouth and making a few shallow bobs before going down as far as he can. He pulls back quickly before he can choke, and goes to try again when Spencer puts a hand on his head, pushing his hair back.
“Ryan. I’m not grading you on technique.” Ryan laughs against him and settles for jacking him while he shifts further down, running a knuckle behind his balls just to hear Spencer gasp. He leans in and gets a shoulder under one of Spencer’s legs, replacing his fingers with his tongue before he can stop to think about it. “Ryan?” Spencer asks, like he wants to check before they go further, but his hips still tilt up and Ryan decides he might as well go for it.
He’s done this before, with girls, but Spencer is entirely different, his voice getting higher and his legs pulling back towards his chest as if he can’t help it. Ryan rubs his cock against the sheets, trying to concentrate and lick deeper into Spencer, who’s shuddering now, accidentally kicking him in the shoulder as he shakes.
“Ryan,” he warns, one hand clenched in the sheet next to him and the other grasping Ryan’s hand where he’s rested it on Spencer’s stomach and tangling their fingers together. Spencer’s breathing like a bellows as he tries to hold on, making their hands move up and down rapidly. Ryan pulls away, climbing up on top of him and bringing their joined hands up to rest next to Spencer’s head. Spencer leans up to kiss him and Ryan tries to pull back, but Spencer just grips his hand harder, before tugging until he can get it free. He sinks his fingers into Ryan’s hair and pulls his head down until they’re breathing into each other’s mouths.
“Spence,” he starts, but Spencer leans up far enough to catch Ryan’s lips with his. It’s shockingly hot, and dirtier than anything Ryan’s ever done before. His hips stutter against Spencer’s and Spencer rides it out, rocking up into him as they kiss. He pulls away, out of the kiss, his hips still pressed tight to Spencer’s. Spencer runs a hand down his back, resting right above his ass and holding Ryan to him, and Ryan thrusts into the cradle of his hips for a moment before dragging himself away.
He pulls back and takes off his underwear, fumbling as he tries to stay upright. “We need - where -”
Spencer cuts him off and shoves him towards the side of the bed. “Nightstand,” he says, sounding breathy. Ryan reaches over before stopping and turning back to look at Spencer.
“You planned this?”
Spencer kicks him in the leg. “Yeah, I used my amazing psychic skills to figure out that we’d eventually have sex. Will you please get the condoms?”
When Ryan settles back on top of him, Spencer grabs the condom from him and opens it. He’s bewildered for a moment, until Spencer stops and pushes the lube at him. “Work with me here.”
He opens Spencer up with his fingers, going as quickly as he can without hurting him. Spencer’s hand shakes as he rolls the condom down onto him, and Ryan takes a moment to drop his head to Spencer’s shoulder. “Just, give me a second.” When he feels like he’s back in control, he lifts his head and Spencer takes that as his cue to throw a leg over Ryan’s hips, pulling them back together and helping him push in.
There’s that initial moment of oh god, oh god, don’t come, before he can settle a bit and move against Spencer. Spencer’s hot and clenching around him, his legs settling against Ryan, almost caging him in. He meets Ryan’s eyes. His pupils are completely blown, but he still looks like he’s searching for something. He opens his mouth like he might say something and Ryan burrows his head down against Spencer’s chest and starts moving. It’s slower and easier than he was expecting, Spencer resting a leg along his side and moving with him. They’re pressed so close together that the friction of their bodies gets Spencer off quickly, convulsing against Ryan in waves. Ryan stays as still as he can, moving his head until he’s breathing into Spencer’s hair. When Spencer’s done, he raises a hand to scratch at the nape of Ryan’s neck, pulling his hair as he starts moving under Ryan again. Ryan leans back into it, closing his eyes and trembling as he comes.
He lies there for a moment, Spencer’s hand still in his hair and one leg hooked around Ryan’s waist while the other rubs against his thigh. Spencer eventually pushes him off to the side, letting Ryan toss the condom away before pulling them both under the covers and flopping back onto the bed, exhausted. He reaches up to turn off the light before moving closer to Ryan. Ryan lies on his back, pressed along Spencer’s side, and rests the back of his hand against Spencer’s leg.
“Spence?” he asks, more quietly than he means to.
Spencer yawns, and then says, “Yeah, Ryan,” and it sounds definitive, as if he’s answering a question. Ryan lets out a breath and rubs his knuckles up and down Spencer’s thigh until he falls asleep.
_________________
He wakes up in the middle of the night with Spencer tucked up close against his back, his breath fanning Ryan’s hair but not touching him otherwise even though they’re nearly pressed together on their sides, chest to back.
Neither of them have ever been cuddlers, really. They’re comfortable in each other’s personal space, but before this sharp turn in the road, they’ve never been particularly deliberate about it. Growing up, Ryan got used to curving against Spencer in a tiny bed, during naps when they were kids or crashing after parties or just needing a place to collapse and be still for a moment. He got so used to the feeling of Spencer against him, the two of them close enough to touch but not making an effort to, that it never seemed out of the ordinary.
With Brent and Trevor, there was still that distance, close enough to punch each other in the arm or give half of a hug, but nothing more. Brendon had been kind of a revelation at first, manic and loud and then quieting down to an intense silence when he was angry or concentrating, or just wanting to project “I don’t want to talk about it” without having to actually say the words. But the most important thing he brought them was the affection, dropping onto Spencer’s lap when he was tired, clinging to Brent’s back and not letting go when he was excited, and grabbing Ryan’s hand and holding on when they both needed the contact but neither wanted to ask for it or explain to anyone.
Brendon made Ryan realize just how much he did touch Spencer, and the awareness was sharp at first, making him reconsider every move they made. Brendon used touch to convey his every thought with everyone. The fumbling, joking times Ryan and Spencer had tried out kissing each other when they were younger became more significant somehow, raising the possibility that they actually meant something once Ryan could see that there was a whole world of communicating through touch that he and Spencer had never really dealt with. He’d managed to gloss over it once they all got used to Brendon, who could straddle someone with his arms locked around them and still mean it platonically. He still doesn’t know if Spencer had ever thought it through the same way, or if he just adjusted to Ryan pulling back as he figured things out and then pushing back into his space once it settled in his head. Spencer has a bad habit of bending to accommodate Ryan, and he’s not sure if this was just another one of those times.
He turns over and looks at Spencer sleeping, still held slightly away from him. He tries out an arm over Spencer’s waist, and when that doesn’t wake him, he moves even closer, tugging Spencer towards him as gently as he can and lifting his foot to rest his ankle against one of Spencer’s. Spencer mumbles in his sleep, moving closer to Ryan and settling into him. Ryan watches Spencer breathe until he can fall asleep.
Part Two
Band: Panic at the Disco
Pairing: Ryan/Spencer
Word Count: 20,368
Rating: NC-17
Author Notes: I cannot thank my betas enough - insipid_paragon read this as I wrote it, lesasoja constantly reassured me, ignipes gave wonderful, thorough comments, and lovelypoet gave a much-needed final readthrough.
Summary: Bored during hiatus, Ryan and Spencer take a roadtrip.
Jon sighs. “You and Spencer, though, I don’t know. I think it’s that you’ve both been with someone most of the time I’ve known you. It’s kind of like,” he pauses and Ryan can hear the laughter in his voice when he speaks again, “when you had girlfriends I didn’t notice that you also had a boyfriend.”
Disclaimer: This is entirely made up.
cheapcrowd's wonderful fanmix is here.
Jon has a way of asking questions that makes Ryan see ten or twenty possibilities open up in front of him, instead of shutting things down to one possible answer.
They’re on the phone, idly playing guitars and singing random lyrics back and forth to each other even though it never works well over speakerphone. Something about the fourth or fifth day off after touring always makes Ryan want to reconnect, and he’s been bothering Jon and Brendon at least once a day. His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Spencer yelling from another room, telling him to “put the fucking milk back in the fridge for once, Ryan. What am I, your nanny?”
Jon can barely talk through his laughter. “Are you staying with him now?”
“No. I’m just here a lot. Dude, you know how it is.”
“Yeah, I always knew you’d eventually end up living with him. Is this a thing now? Are you finally consummating your love?” Jon pauses and when he starts speaking again, his voice is more serious, almost contemplative. “I mean, seriously, you’ve known each other forever. It must have come up at least once.” Jon’s question comes out of nowhere, but it’s not like he’s the first person to ask.
“Well, yeah. Of course it’s come up. We’ve been together forever.”
“Together, Ryan?”
“Shut the fuck up, you know what I mean. We’ve both thought about it before, it would be weird if we didn’t. But it just - didn’t happen.” His guitar is out of tune, just enough to make him notice and bother him. He fiddles with it while Jon keeps talking.
“Do you regret it? You know each other better than anyone else does, that’s gotta be kind of… tempting, maybe?”
He looks up, distracted from the guitar by the absurdity of the question. “Yeah, I’ve been eluding Spencer’s seductive grasp all these years.” He smiles at the phone, as if Jon can see him.
It’s kind of ridiculous, but he’s a little surprised Jon hasn’t brought it up before. Brendon did, back in the beginning when he didn’t have enough experience with them to realize that their closeness wasn’t what it sometimes looked like. Not that Brendon had much room to talk, when he attached himself to everyone in sight before settling into his year-long phase of gluing himself to Ryan.
Despite their few fumbling tries at making out years ago, locked in Spencer’s room in the few hours between the end of school and his parents getting home from work, it just never seemed like a good option. Out of all of his relationships, it’s pretty clear that the one with his best friend would be the worst one to fuck up.
Jon has gone entirely quiet.
Ryan prompts him. “Dude, what are you thinking?”
“I do get it. I know what it’s like to have no boundaries or personal space. But, dude, I lived out of a van with three other guys and I never once felt the need to do half the stuff you and Spencer do. I mean, I love Tom, but my head’s never been anywhere near his crotch, you know? And I get the whole ’fuck people who have problems with the way I express my masculinity’ thing, but like, I think people are generally pretty picky about stuff like that, no matter what their gender is.”
“It’s just not like that. And, hey, you’ve known us for like three years, why do you care now? You never ask why I didn’t hook up with Brendon.”
“That’s a different situation. And Brendon has already given me a lecture on it.” Jon sighs. “You and Spencer, though, I don’t know. I think it’s that you’ve both been with someone most of the time I’ve known you. It’s kind of like,” he pauses and Ryan can hear the laughter in his voice when he speaks again, “when you had girlfriends I didn’t notice that you also had a boyfriend.”
Ryan refuses to respond and Jon can’t hold in his laughter.
It’s really ridiculous in that way that most Jon-logic is, like he has to work out every crazy thought he has by inflicting them on other people. It’s a lot more charming when they’re both high than it is now.
“I’m changing the subject now.” Ryan doesn’t wait for Jon to assent. “You’re an asshole, by the way.”
Jon laughs louder than before.
_________________
Two weeks after they come off of tour, Ryan loses his laptop. He realizes this during family dinner time at the Smith house, and spends a few minutes silently freaking out about it, trying to remember where it could be. Spencer kicks him under the table, jolting him back into the conversation.
“I have no idea where my laptop is,” Ryan says plaintively.
Spencer looks up towards the ceiling for a moment, like he’s trying to remember, before looking back at Ryan and saying, “Probably in my guest room. Where you always leave it.”
Ginger turns to Ryan. “Are you staying with Spencer now? Honey, you only get so much time away from him. You should take advantage of it. It’s done wonders for us.” She smiles sweetly at Spencer, who rolls his eyes and scowls back at her.
“Mom, you know Ryan’s fragile. If I don’t keep him in sight he’s liable to get into trouble.”
Ryan kicks him in the ankle.
It’s just the two of them and Spencer’s parents tonight. Crystal and Jackie had done the hugs and I-missed-yous exactly one time after they got back, before managing to wiggle out of any sort of family interaction. Ryan and Spencer are just homesick enough that they’ve shown up dutifully a couple times since they got back. They can’t really resist the lure of food cooked somewhere other than a bus microwave.
“I don’t see why you don’t just move in permanently. Spencer has that huge house all to himself.”
Spencer laughs. “Yeah, Mom, I’m all alone. Ryan and I can save each other from a life of lonely bachelorhood.”
It actually doesn’t sound like that bad of an idea, as far as Ryan’s concerned, but he lets the subject drop. Jeff asks about Brendon and Jon and Pete, of all people, so Ryan jumps back into the conversation.
When they leave, they end up carrying more food than they can eat in a week. Spencer whines about getting fewer hugs from his own parents than Ryan gets, and Ginger just squeezes Ryan harder. Back when he was a teenager, Ginger had always given the impression of being two steps away from telling Ryan that he could move in with them permanently, any time he wanted to. She never said anything specific, like she was afraid it would break the fragile balance they had of Ryan dropping by with a duffel bag, acting as casual as he could while Spencer threw out a, “hey, Mom, Ryan’s staying for a while, okay?”
Once they’re back at Spencer’s house, Ryan collapses on the couch and hands over the Tupperware containers he’s holding to Spencer as he passes on his way to the kitchen. Spencer stops and looks down at him, challenging, but Ryan simply looks up at him, eyes wide and looking as sad as he can manage. Spencer scowls and grabs the food, putting it down so he can smack Ryan in the back of the head, and then picking it back up to take into the next room.
By the time he makes it back, Ryan has found the remote control and is flipping through channels, settling on Sundance. He finds a documentary about pop art and stretches out fully on the couch. Spencer shoves Ryan over to make room for himself, making him sit up. Ryan curls around him, nuzzling his head into Spencer’s neck and breathing heavily against him until Spencer laughs. Spencer jiggles his shoulder up and down to dislodge him, so Ryan scoots back and puts his head in Spencer’s lap, snuggling in. Spencer sighs and flicks him in the forehead, before giving in and paying attention to the TV.
“We’re the most boring rock stars in the world. You realize that, right? We never used to be this bad.” Spencer buries his hand in Ryan’s hair and pulls gently. “We’ll probably be in bed by midnight, after our exciting evening of TV and dinner with my parents.”
“If it makes you feel better, I slipped out while you and your dad were busy with the dishes and did a line of coke off of a stripper’s ass.” He manages to keep a straight face even as Spencer scowls and tugs harder on his hair. He should probably get a haircut before Spencer gets used to communicating his displeasure this way.
He turns on Spencer’s leg to face the TV again, resting back into the softness of Spencer’s stomach. When he starts to doze, Spencer pushes him off the couch onto the floor and sends him to bed.
_________________
Ryan has pretty much given up on being amused by outside sources and nestled himself into one of Spencer’s other guest rooms with three guitars. They orbit each other for a while, Spencer going about whatever it was he did when they weren’t out on tour (maybe organizing his sock drawer or making a ten-year plan) but more and more often, Spencer drops down onto the floor next to him and watches him work. His hand usually comes to rest at the small of Ryan’s back, and Ryan’s getting used to the solid warmth, like a brand.
Spencer finds him one day, sitting on the floor with his phone, telling Jon the story of losing his laptop at Spencer’s house (he finally found it, in the guest room.) It actually turned into a bit of an adventure when he figured out that Spencer’s house was also hiding Ryan’s copy of Glamorama and, for some reason neither he nor Spencer can fathom, Ryan’s sixth grade yearbook. When Jon asks to speak to Spencer, Ryan watches as Spencer frowns at the phone while Jon talks, and then hangs up on him, the tinny sound of Jon’s ridiculous, high-pitched giggle barely audible.
Spencer moves to the opposite wall, legs stretching out as he settles against it. He’s looking at Ryan with faint amusement and Ryan looks back down at the scattered papers in front of him, leaning over his guitar and frowning.
“Spence, if we were fictional, I’d be the heroine in a gothic novel, wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, man. You’ve kind of got a Chevalier Danceny thing going on. And you’re a hell of a lot less Byronic than you used to be.”
Ryan laughs and looks up. “Sometimes, like right now, I’m reminded of how weird we are.”
Spencer looks at him like he’s considering something. “You have a valid point. Fine, let’s play it a different way: if we were in a movie, you’d be the tragic hero that the heroine shouldn’t choose.”
That seems fair to Ryan. “Who would you be?”
“The solid, hardworking Right Guy,” he says, sounding completely smug and sure of his answer. His foot rests against Ryan’s knee, tapping idly.
“Oh, fuck you. You’re totally the plucky heroine.”
Spencer picks up a stray guitar pick and throws it at him. Ryan ducks.
“You are. I can hear the Mary Tyler Moore song in my head right now.”
Spencer grimaces at him. “This is why kids shouldn’t watch Nick At Nite.”
Ryan looks away and mumbles, “Yeah, that and the crush you used to have on Davy Jones.” He smiles at the floor.
Spencer sighs. “Sometimes I hate you so much I can barely even express it.” Ryan looks him in the eye and they smile at each other. He goes back to playing his melody, this time with Spencer humming along and tapping out a rhythm against the floor, telling him when his lyrics are a bad idea and smiling silently when he thinks they’re not.
_________________
Somehow, Spencer’s parents have managed to convince Spencer that grocery shopping for them is fair compensation for all the free dinners. Ryan thinks it’s kind of fun in its mundanity, walking up and down the aisles. Spencer pushes the cart, explaining to Ryan that “you might hurt yourself with your spindly little arms.” He pouts when Ryan punches him in the chest.
When Ryan comes back from another aisle, a bag of flour in his hands, he finds Spencer talking to a girl he vaguely recognizes. As he gets closer, his brain kicks in and reminds him that this is Mimi, who Spencer had a crush on in tenth grade. She’d shown up at a party Spencer threw, and ended up spending the evening hitting on Brent. Spencer had looked bruised around the edges for weeks, and destroyed a few dozen drumsticks until he got over it.
Ryan remembers being a little unavailable at the time. He’d been hooking up with a guy named Daniel from his English class (there was stuff Ryan could try with Spencer, and stuff that he just couldn’t) and Daniel had recently decided that he couldn’t quite reconcile the Catholic thing with the jerking Ryan off in his car thing. It was a confusing period of Ryan’s life.
He walks up behind Spencer, putting a hand against Spencer’s back and feeling him jump as he turns around.
“Hey, Mimi, right?” Ryan says.
She turns to him. “Hi, Ryan!” She’s got a bright, clear smile and seems like she might hug him in greeting. Ryan steps closer to Spencer.
“Mrs. Smith has you guys shopping?” she says.
Ryan looks down at the bag of flour still in his hand, and clutches it a little tighter. “Yeah, family errands. You know how it is.”
“That’s awesome. She must be really happy to have you both home. You guys were always like brothers.”
Ryan feels himself flinch, clenching his hand in the back of Spencer’s shirt. He can feel Spencer staring at him. None of them say anything for a moment, until Spencer leans forward to hug her.
“Hey, it was great to see you again. We should hang out sometime.”
She looks over his shoulder at Ryan as she agrees, and Ryan realizes that he’s still holding on to Spencer.
When she leaves, Spencer turns to look at him. Ryan looks right back.
Spencer rolls his eyes. “You can let go of me now. The scary girl is gone.”
“It’s just - she ditched you for Brent.”
“When we were fifteen. You’re a complete psycho. You know that, right?”
Ryan hums in agreement and lets go enough to put the flour in the cart.
_________________
Ryan’s boredom has become so acute that he’s risking the full fury of Spencer’s wrath by playing around with his drum kit. Ryan’s an awful drummer: he’s never been able to multitask well enough to keep more than one rhythm going at a time.
Spencer comes in when he’s spent about ten minutes attempting to coordinate the kick drum with the snare.
“If you were anyone else, you’d be lucky if I let you escape with your hands.” He’s leaning against the doorway, frowning at Ryan.
“You let Jon and Brendon play your drums,” Ryan says.
“That’s because Jon and Brendon can actually play.” He comes around behind Ryan, and when Ryan looks up, Spencer’s hands are on his hips and he’s frowning, as if he’s casting down judgment on the scene before him. “You’d think you would have picked more of it up by now. You’ve had years.”
He bends down into Ryan, curving around him as he picks up Ryan’s left hand and cradles it in his own. “Just keep the beat up with your foot, I’ll handle the rest.” Ryan can do that, he can keep solid half notes going in 4/4 on the kick.
Spencer grips Ryan’s hand around the drumstick and counts off in his ear. He uses Ryan to play out quarter notes on the snare, letting him get used to it for a few measures before grabbing his right hand. Ryan tries to relax into it as Spencer starts out fast eighth notes on the hi-hat, resting against Spencer and letting him move Ryan whichever way he wants to, but it doesn’t really come together. He needs his wrist to be looser for it to work, and he’s already tensing and huddling back into Spencer and away from the sticks, his muscles apparently sensing impending danger and withdrawing without asking him. They completely lose the rhythm and Spencer laughs at him. He rests his face against the back of Ryan’s neck for a moment, smiling, and then drops Ryan’s hands and backs away. Ryan feels like he should be tensing; the reality of Spencer’s body against him and his beard scratching against Ryan’s neck should unsettle him, but it doesn’t. Spencer moves fully away from him, coming around to the other side of the kit, and Ryan feels the absence keenly for a moment.
“Dude, if all of your lessons were like that, maybe I shouldn’t have pushed you into drumming at such a young age.”
“I believe in hands-on teaching.” He pulls a chair over, placing it right in front of the kit and straddling it, looking Ryan in the eyes. “And I don’t know why you think you pushed me into anything. I wanted to do it.” His voice is more earnest than he usually gets.
Ryan doesn’t remember it quite the same way. He wanted a band and he wanted to sing and play guitar, which meant he needed a drummer. Spencer had been making things work in Ryan’s life for quite a few years by then, so it wasn’t like there was another choice.
He rests the drumsticks on the snare and looks down at them. “But did I pressure you into this? I mean, you could be doing anything right now, but I’ve had you living on a tour bus and waking up in strange cities for a good four years now.”
“Yeah, it sucks. I’m barely old enough to rent a car, but we’re sitting in the house that I bought with my own money, which I earned doing something I love. This band thing was the worst idea you ever had.” There’s a smile in his voice and Ryan finally looks up at him. “What the hell, Ryan? Your emo used to at least be productive. If we don’t get songs out of your navel-gazing, I’m going to be pissed.”
Ryan laughs and passes the drumsticks to Spencer as he gets up. “Switch with me, I’ll get my guitar.”
_________________
After a night when he has finally convinced Brendon to go to one of his indie movies with him, Ryan stays late at Brendon’s, watching him play fight with Regan while Shane laughs. Dylan jumps up and down next to them, wanting attention. Keltie has custody of Hobo this month, but at least Ryan has Spencer’s dogs to play with. Which reminds him that it’s about time he left.
“Dude, you’re not crashing here?” Shane asks him.
He shakes his head and grabs Brendon by the arm, “Nah, Brendon’s giving me a ride home.” Brendon looks slightly put out but follows him out to the car, driving towards Ryan’s place without much protest.
“You should come over more often,” Brendon says as he makes a turn. They’re far enough out into the suburbs that there are only a few cars on the streets.
“Dude, I spend seventy percent of my year with you, I think we can both handle a break.”
“You know you miss me when we’re not attached at the hip. I pity you those long lonely nights spent pining for the bus.” He smiles widely, his teeth a bright flash in the dark of the car. “You should feel relieved that I’m man enough to handle it. Jon ran all the way to Chicago to get away, but I’m here for you, man.”
Ryan smothers a laugh. “See, this is why I need the break from you people.”
Ryan notices that they’re halfway to his house then and it occurs to him that he should tell Brendon to head towards Spencer’s instead.
Brendon raises his eyebrows at him but sharply changes direction. “Well, those are some awfully mixed signals.”
When they turn on to Spencer’s street, Ryan starts to take out his keys.
“Aren’t you going to call him?” Brendon asks as they pull up to Spencer’s house, letting the engine idle.
“Why? I have my key.” He fumbles for his keys and they drop onto the floor of the car.
When he bends over in the seat to pick them up, Brendon speaks slowly and deliberately, as if Ryan really needs to understand him. “I have a key too, Ryan. In case of fire or flood or if he’s fallen and he can’t get up. It’s for emergencies, not dropping in at two in the morning.” He laughs suddenly. “What, did you move in or something?”
“No. Well, kind of - but no, really, no.” He finally gets his keys and goes for the door handle without turning back to Brendon.
“Way to be sure of your answer there, man. When’s the last time you actually saw your condo?”
Ryan looks away. “I don’t know. A week and a half ago, maybe?” he mumbles.
He clambers out of the car, looking at Brendon out of the corner of his eye and seeing him smirk. He shuts the car door behind him without saying goodbye. Brendon peels off down the street.
He comes quietly into the house, taking his shoes off and placing them in the entryway as soon as he’s shut the door. The house is dark, and Ryan wonders what Spencer did with his evening, since he’d claimed he’s already paid enough Pretentious Movie Time With Ryan Ross dues for his entire life, and no amount of complaining about limited engagements will convince him to give in now. He pads softly on the hardwood floors towards Spencer’s bedroom. There’s soft light spilling into the hallway through the door that’s slightly ajar, so he peeks in, trying not to make any noise.
When he looks in he sees Spencer asleep on his stomach, covers tossed off of him and the bedside lamp still on. There’s a book on music management next to him on the bed, probably a gag gift from Pete. Ryan creeps in as quietly as he can. He sits on the side of the bed, looking at Spencer for a moment and trying not to wake him. Spencer stirs, as if he can feel Ryan there.
“Did Brendon bring you home?” Spencer’s voice is thick with sleep, and Ryan startles for a moment. He hadn’t expected Spencer to wake up.
“Yeah.” He shifts slightly closer, pushing Spencer’s hair back off of his face so he can see his eyes when they finally open. “I was about to head to my room.”
Spencer yawns and look at his bedside clock. “You should crash here tonight.”
“I just told you that I am.”
Spencer turns onto his side, still slow in his movements. “No, I mean you can stay here, if you want.”
Ryan’s hand stills in Spencer’s hair for a moment, waiting for some sort of confirmation that he’s hearing correctly.
Spencer yawns widely. “Or go to the guest room, whatever.”
Ryan lets out a breath. “Yeah, I’m going.” Spencer nods and his eyes close again.
He pulls the covers up over Spencer and turns off the light before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him. He waits for a minute with his back against the closed door, just listening to himself breathe, before heading off to his room.
_________________
Ryan sits in his car outside of Spencer’s house, staring at his phone. He could be inside if he wanted to; Spencer is out buying groceries or hanging with his sisters or bugging Brendon. He hadn’t really specified when he left, telling Ryan that they could probably stand to spend a few hours away from each other. He’d said it with a teasing smile, but when he left, Ryan still found himself heading outside and sitting alone, resolutely not freaking out.
He calls Jon without letting himself stop to think about it.
“I have no clue what I’m doing,” he says, before Jon can even finish saying hello.
“In general, or is this a specific thing?”
Ryan really needs Jon to take this seriously. “It’s just, you know how you brought up me and Spencer? And why we never, you know, did anything?” He waits for Jon to hum in assent. “I think we’re doing something now.”
Jon laughs at him. “If you’re calling me about it, then you’re already pretty deep into it, right?”
Ryan always forgets how well Jon knows him.
“So, what’s your problem? Is it just all too perfect?”
“No. I just, I have no idea where this is going.”
“Well, gee, Ryan, we’ve got two options here: either I can find one of Cassie’s old copies of Seventeen and we can look for advice, or you can be a grownup and talk to him about it.”
Ryan can’t think of a way that would go well. Spencer is reticent at the best of times and besides, Ryan shouldn’t need a roadmap to figure out what’s happening with Spencer, of all people.
Jon keeps talking. “Or, you could just play it by ear, and see where you end up.” Jon’s voice is mocking, but going with the flow is really sounding like the best option here.
“Okay, I’ll just play it by ear.” He can hear Jon’s exasperated sigh. “It’s a good idea.”
“Yeah, continuing to be clueless is totally not going to bite you in the ass here.” He pauses. “Hey, does this mean that I’m your first choice when you’re having a crisis that you can’t tell Spencer about?”
“What? I guess, yeah.”
“Can I tell Brendon?”
Ryan hangs up on him.
_________________
When Spencer gets home, Ryan’s lying on the floor, determinedly contemplating whether Spencer should get a new dining room set. Spencer pokes him in the side with his foot.
“Get up. We’re going on a road trip.”
“What?”
Spencer nudges him a little harder. “You’re bored. And, more importantly, you’re boring. So we’re going to your house so you can pack enough stuff for a week, and then we’re going somewhere.” He digs his toes into Ryan’s side, right where he’s most ticklish. Ryan curls up around Spencer’s leg, laughing.
“And you’re not telling me where, are you?”
“Nope.”
He pulls Ryan up off the floor, and supervises as he packs up his computer and notebooks, three of his guitars, and some of the clothes he has lying around on the floor of Spencer’s guest room. When he pulls everything together, they realize that they don’t even have to make the trip to Ryan’s house because he’s left enough stuff at Spencer’s to last him through a month-long trip.
They’ve loaded up Spencer’s car and are on the 15 headed out of the state towards California when Ryan finally can’t take it anymore and asks where they’re going. He’s been curled up in the passenger seat watching the world roll by for the past hour.
“It’s a surprise. We’ll be there in about eight hours. Actually, I’m making you drive at least half the way, so we’ll be there in eleven hours.” Spencer turns to grin at him quickly, before turning back to look at the road, pushing his sunglasses up on the top of his head to hold his hair back. He would usually have gotten it cut by now; the ends are touching his shoulders. In a few more weeks he’ll look like he wandered off a commune somewhere.
“How am I going to drive if I don’t know where we’re going?” he says, although it might be interesting to just drive and see where they end up.
“You’ll get on the 58 at Barstow and keep going west. I’ll take over when I need to.”
Ryan leans forward into his seat, opening the glove box and taking out Spencer’s California-Nevada-Utah-Arizona map. He unfolds it and tries out a few options.
“The Giant Sequoia National Monument is too close.” Spencer doesn’t answer. “Paso Robles sounds interesting.” Spencer sniggers. “Visiting your girlfriend at the prison in Chowchilla?” He finally gets Spencer to crack up.
“I’m not telling you. Just relax and enjoy the mystery.”
Ryan settles back into his seat and tries to follow the advice.
They actually haven’t done this together on their own before, Ryan realizes. There was always Trevor and Brent, or Brent and Brendon, or, even later, Brendon and Jon. By the time they were old enough that road trips would be a Smith-parent approved activity, they were living in a van and the idea had lost some of its appeal.
They stop to eat at a Baja Fresh in Bakersfield, the strip mall looking like every single strip mall they’ve ever been to. Jon likes to take pictures of chain stores wherever they are, building a collection of Krispy Kremes and Gap outlets stretched across the country. He’s really the only one of them who’s charmed by the idea.
Ryan has installed himself in his seat by the time Spencer slides into the chair across from him at the outdoor table. There’s an ugly green patio umbrella shading them, but Ryan still puts his sunglasses on.
Spencer’s brought him two chicken tacos and a Sprite, and as he says thanks he tries to remember if he told Spencer what to order for him. And wonders if Spencer would have listened or just got him whatever he thought was best. He can’t really argue with Spencer’s choice.
“Did you tell Brendon where we were going?” Ryan asks.
“I told him that we were going somewhere, and I’ll call Jon to tell him the same thing. Neither of them would hold out for more than two minutes if you called and asked them.”
“We are truly the band’s pillars of fortitude.” Ryan hooks his foot around Spencer’s ankle under the table.
Spencer laughs at him and digs into his shrimp burrito.
_________________
“So, why exactly didn’t we bring Brendon on this trip?” Ryan doesn’t want to disturb the equilibrium they’ve got going right now, with Spencer driving serenely and not mocking him when he sings along with the stereo, but it would probably be weird if he didn’t ask.
Spencer’s quiet for a moment before answering. “He wouldn’t want to go where we’re going,” he says. As Ryan opens his mouth to respond, Spencer says, “No, still not telling.”
“Besides, we don’t have to do everything as a group. Can’t we have some best friend alone time?” He takes one hand off the wheel and places it on Ryan’s knee. “We can reminisce about things every else is sick of hearing about! Remember that awesome Halloween party we had when we were eight and nine?”
“The one where you flipped out because someone else came dressed as the Blue Power Ranger?”
“The Blue Power Ranger was the smartest one! I had a kickass costume.”
“You know you shouldn’t still be angry about this, right?”
Spencer lifts a hand from Ryan’s leg and flips him off.
“Well, you’re at the same level of maturity as you were then, so I guess I can’t be that shocked,” Ryan says.
Spencer’s iPod is hooked up to the car’s stereo, and Ryan fiddles with it, scrolling back and forth through the artist list. He contemplates playing one of the Dresden Dolls songs he finds, but Spencer’s still kind of sensitive about the crush on Amanda he developed when they toured together.
He picks something innocuous and starts to play it. Spencer sings along softly, humming through some of the words. Ryan turns slightly and curls up further in his seat, watching Spencer sing along, tapping his hands on the steering wheel. He thinks he should get Spencer to sing more on the next album. He’s always up for it when they’re writing, and even on stage, but the minute he gets close to a microphone he clams up. When they were in the cabin, Ryan got so used to hearing Spencer’s voice in the mix of whatever they were doing that it always took him a minute to adjust to the change when they were recording.
Spencer turns his head away from the road for a moment, and then turns back after smirking at Ryan.
“You know, that’s kind of distracting. We’ve only got about six hours left until we get there and then you can longingly gaze at me all you want, for a whole week.”
Ryan feels his face heat and turns to look out the windshield.
_________________
About an hour outside of Bakersfield, they see a sign for an an outlet mall and look ruefully at each other.
“It’s okay if you want to go to the Nike store, man. I’ll support your decision.”
Spencer grimaces at him and makes the turn into the mall.
When they get to the store, Ryan follows his “Spencer in the presence of shoes” protocol, following behind him serenely and saying “hmmm” and “ahhhh” when appropriate. There’s a teenage salesgirl with subtly striped purple hair, a spacer in her ear, and a blush on her face, but he’s pretty sure Spencer hasn’t noticed her yet. Ryan smiles at her and she looks down, turning completely red. It’s never not cool when that happens. Sometimes on tour he’ll go two blocks over from whatever venue they’re at that day, far enough away from the crowd of screaming girls that he can walk down the street with no one noticing him, just to feel the contrast.
Spencer tears his eyes away from a pair of sneakers that honestly look the same as every other pair of sneakers and looks at Ryan.
“Do you want to do the autograph thing?” Spencer says, nodding at the girl.
“Yeah, sure, if she asks. And if it doesn’t seem like she’s going to post to her MySpace blog about the Ryan Ross/Spencer Smith rendezvous she witnessed.”
Spencer hands three shoeboxes to Ryan and then rests his hand at the small of Ryan’s back, leaning close. “Aw, baby. Don’t tell me you’re ashamed of our eternal love.” He grins and then walks two aisles away before Ryan can answer.
By the time they make their way out, Spencer has bought four pairs of shoes, they have signed two autographs for the surprisingly shy salesgirl, and Ryan is feeling a wave of goodwill towards Tulare, California. This is only increased when he sees the Geoffrey Beene store.
He goes a little crazy in the accessories section, and Spencer asks him if he needs someone to hold his purse while he tries things on.
“I know you were planning on going to Claire’s, Spence, so maybe you could pick one up while you’re there.”
The salesman seems a little confused by this exchange, but not enough to keep him from showing Ryan their extensive collection of cufflinks.
“Can you just buy some scarves so we can go?”
Ryan doesn’t even turn around to face him. “I swear, at the next rest stop I’m starting a bonfire with your shoes.” Spencer snickers and Ryan hears him move away. When he turns, Spencer is sitting in a chair with his legs crossed, looking like the world’s most bored husband. Ryan turns back to the salesman and asks about their sunglasses.
_________________
Ryan takes over the wheel in Fresno, letting Spencer settle in the passenger seat. Spencer’s car is remarkably small for him, bought before he hit that last growth spurt, and he has to push the passenger seat back as far as it can go.
Ryan’s following directions (“North on the 99, I’ll tell you if we need to make a change.”) and watching the cars roll by him when Spencer speaks up.
“Do you think they’re married?” He points to the couple in the car to the left and slightly ahead of them. A man and a woman in their thirties are arguing in their Mini Cooper. The woman is driving and keeps turning her head away from the road to speak to the man, whipping back around quickly as if she realizes she’s getting distracted. The man is gesturing wildly, hands waving as he speaks.
“They could be brother and sister, driving to their great aunt’s house for the reading of the will. They haven’t seen the rest of the family in years, but she promised to leave them a trust fund, so they’re going.”
Spencer picks up on the game immediately, and Ryan can hear the smile in his voice even though he doesn’t turn to look at him. “Or maybe they’ve been dating for years and they just found out they’re cheating on each other with the same woman.”
“Or, like, remember Mrs. Anderson and her boyfriend? The one who was like twenty-five?” Spencer laughs in agreement. When they were eleven and twelve their neighbor from down the street ran away with her boyfriend and most of her husband’s money. It was the big neighborhood scandal for a couple of weeks there, and Ryan and Spencer had kept up with it by listening to Spencer’s mom and the husband of their neighbor the stripper gossiping on the curb every morning before they left for work.
The man in the car has turned his head to the side, ignoring the woman and looking out the window, and Ryan stops looking before the guy notices him staring. He catches a glimpse of a roadside sign as they pass. Apparently they’re ninety miles outside of San Francisco.
“If you won’t tell me where we’re going, will you at least tell me what we’ll be doing there?”
“Enjoying California’s natural wonders,” Spencer says. When Ryan glances at him out of the corner of his eye, he’s smiling softly at him. “Just drive. I promise you it’ll be worth it.”
_________________
When they cut past the entire Bay Area, Ryan starts to get very curious. Spencer pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, probably directions to wherever they’re going, and smiles to himself as he continues driving. It lasts about an hour, Ryan shifting in his seat, until Spencer takes a turn off the highway and they’re suddenly in the country, surrounded by rolling green hills striped with rows of grapes.
“You brought me to a winery?”
Spencer pulls into the hotel’s parking lot. “Shut up. I thought you’d appreciate it. If we get bored, we’ll just drive down to San Francisco, maybe hit some clubs and pretend we’re more famous than we actually are.”
“And if we stay here?” The hotel’s really nice, actually, and the vineyards are so close he can see them from inside the car.
“We’ll go on some vineyard tours and you can buy overpriced wine. If you’re good, I’ll even pay for the in-room couples’ massage.” He pops the trunk and gets out of the car without looking at Ryan. Ryan follows.
_________________
Ryan realizes that this may be the best idea Spencer has ever had when they get inside their room.
Spencer pushes him further into the room with his bag, shutting the door behind him while Ryan gapes at the fireplace and sitting room. “Dude. How much did this set you back?” It’s a little overwhelming. Spencer’s the only one of the four of them who hasn’t had an accountant put him on an allowance, so the splurging is unexpected.
Spencer ignores him and checks out the minibar before coming back to lie down on the bed and look at him. “It’s a vacation, don’t worry so much about it. Go explore if you want to, I’m taking a nap.”
Ryan decides that that’s as good a plan as any and moves past his own bed to settle next to Spencer.
Spencer seems headed quickly towards sleep, but Ryan feels too tense, as if he needs to act now or he’ll miss his cue. He shakes Spencer awake, and when Spencer’s eyes open, Ryan leans in and kisses him.
It’s not actually that awkward, and Ryan thinks he probably should have expected it to be more so. There’s something very weird about kissing someone who knows everything about you in every way except this one. They’ve done this before, years ago, but never with any sort of intent. It starts out well, no bumping noses or clacking teeth, none of the clumsiness he would expect from someone new, and that’s kind of the worst part. He wants a big, embarrassing moment to break the tension that should be there, so they can laugh it off and get going on whatever this is. But there’s none of that, just the sweep of Spencer’s tongue against his lips and the feel of his heart beating against Ryan’s, and Ryan can’t help but tense at the thought that something has to go wrong soon.
It doesn’t, and when Spencer pulls away to smile at him, Ryan smiles back. He lies back on the bed and goes to sleep.
_________________
The first thing they do when Ryan wakes Spencer up is talk to the concierge. It’s clear that he and Spencer confuse the hell out of her: they’re younger than anyone else Ryan has seen in the hotel unaccompanied by a parent, and they’ve got a double room, so she pretty obviously has no idea what they’re doing here together. She promises to give them a discount on the (apparently fascinating) Wine Train, though, so he takes pity on her and explains that they’re just really good friends. Spencer snickers from a few feet behind him, and Ryan refuses to acknowledge him.
_________________
Ryan thinks he might be getting prematurely old, because he’s starting to translate “boring” into “relaxing,” sitting in the lobby of the hotel with Spencer after their return from the completely uneventful Wine Train Extravaganza. It had actually been nice, despite lasting four hours and involving learning more about wine, train travel, and the financial and emotional well-being of everyone else who had been suckered into attending the trip than he ever expected or wanted to. He pressed against Spencer as the train moved, pretending to pay attention to whatever their host was rambling about while he looked out the window and watched the endless green fields pass by. He’d turned to Spencer to joke about how they’d have trouble working this into a song without everyone reading it as another drug reference, and found Spencer already looking at him. Spencer had looked down and poked Ryan in the leg before turning back to hear about the complex and storied history of the Napa Valley, and Ryan looked back out the window, smiling.
When they get back to their hotel room, Spencer throws a sport jacket at him and then goes to change out of his jeans. Ryan watches him put on his own blazer in confusion, before Spencer explains. They are apparently going to completely live the cliché, and so Ryan finds himself in the hotel lobby, waiting for their table to be called so they can take advantage of the hotel restaurant. As they’re led in and seated, Ryan leans forward to whisper to Spencer, “What, you’re not pulling my chair out for me?”
Spencer laughs. “Fuck you, I’ve already given you my best moves. You can seat yourself.”
It’s surprisingly not very different from any other time they’ve gone out to eat in a nice restaurant, and it makes Ryan wonder if it always looked like this, some weird amalgam of dinner out with the family and a prom date. When their server comes by, Ryan makes Spencer order for him, earning a pointed look and reluctant compliance. It’s actually fun to sit back and see how it unfolds.
Spencer waits until the server leaves before scowling at him. “Are you also expecting me to walk you to your door tonight?”
Ryan leans back in his chair and holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, you changed the rules first. I’m just trying to figure out boundaries here.”
Spencer looks down and smiles, but he still kicks Ryan under the table.
“We should do this more often, at home,” Spencer says, his voice light.
Ryan stops to think about it. “Yeah, nothing shuts down those gay rumors like fine dining together.”
Spencer looks up at him then, considering. “I’m sure we’d find a way to deal with it.” His voice isn’t exactly vehement, but it’s a lot stronger than Ryan’s expecting.
He tries a slight smile. “Yeah, maybe.” He kicks Spencer back and watches him relax. They sit in comfortable silence until the food arrives.
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There’s a good dose of cosmic irony in the fact that they fail so spectacularly at golf when they get around to trying out one of the courses near the hotel. They stick it out for a few holes, until Spencer decides that it’s not worth it and they go to sit by the pool.
Spencer stretched out on a deck chair is distracting in a way that Ryan never imagined it would be, with his legs extended in front of him and his skin glowing in the sun. No one with that many freckles should tan easily, but Spencer never seems to burn.
Ryan sits up in the deck chair next to him, still in a t-shirt, which had caused a silent argument when they first got there. Spencer had sat and stared at him for a moment when they got to the pool, stripping down to his shorts and then settling back to look expectantly at Ryan. That was all the impetus Ryan needed to keep his clothes on. They sighed meaningfully at each other for a while until Spencer gave up and laid back with his sunglasses on.
It’s surprisingly easy between them, like there hasn’t been much of a change at all beyond the physical. Spencer stands closer, he leans into Ryan, lays kisses on his neck before moving away without saying a word, but everything else has stayed the same. Ryan feels like he’s missed a step, like they jumped ahead a month or so without anyone telling him. There’s just no way it should be this easy.
“Stop thinking; there’s nothing to figure out.” Spencer doesn’t even take off his sunglasses, speaking to Ryan without turning to him.
Ryan tries to follow his advice.
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The private veranda may be the best part of the hotel, with its huge wooden rocking chairs on a secluded porch overlooking a fountain. Spencer has taken out one of the towels from their bathroom and is lying on the floor in his boxers, soaking up as much sun as he can. Ryan pulls farther back into the shade, curled up in the rocking chair with a notebook. It’s late enough in the year that they can be outside at seven and still have sun.
“I bring you out to Wine Country in the spring, and you refuse to take advantage of it. The sun won’t hurt you, Ryan.” Spencer doesn’t even open his eyes as he speaks. Ryan realizes that he has on his huge sun hat with its wide brim and the Jackie O sunglasses he picked up in the women’s accessories section of the Geoffrey Beene in Tulare, and thinks that Spencer may have a point.
”Come down here with me. I promise you won’t burst into flame when the sun touches you.” He opens his eyes and turns to Ryan, holding out a hand. Ryan puts his notebook down and steps down from his perch on the rocking chair to sit next to Spencer.
He drops awkwardly next to Spencer and pulls off his hat and sunglasses, his shirt and pants, until he’s in his underwear just like Spencer is. Ryan curls up into him, pushing slightly until Spencer moves enough to let them both have at least a little bit of the towel. Spencer turns on his side, and Ryan wonders if he’s taking up too much space until Spencer puts a hand against his jaw and turns his head so they’re looking each other in the eye. They stay that way for a while, Spencer’s eyes moving like he’s searching for something but never stopping the eye contact he’s keeping with Ryan. When Ryan’s about to crack a joke and break the moment, Spencer leans in and casually kisses him. Hs hand drifts down Ryan’s jaw to rest against the side of his neck, shifting his hand until he’s gripping Ryan, angling his head the way he wants it. He turns more fully into Spencer, rubbing his thigh against Spencer’s just to feel the rasp of the hair on their legs. Spencer shifts up into him, tangling their legs together.
Its lazy and unhurried, and Ryan thinks it fits the mood of this place and this vacation, no rush to do anything, but always full of possibility. He thinks that maybe it’s time to take Spencer up on that.
He pulls back from the kiss and Spencer’s mouth goes to his throat, replacing his hand where he’d been resting it. Ryan pulls Spencer closer and says, “We should go inside.”
Spencer mumbles, “Relax, no one can see us from here,” into his neck.
“No, I mean, this will be a lot more comfortable if we go inside.”
Spencer pulls back fully, the “Ryan, why are you so difficult?” look of fond exasperation on his face. Ryan doesn’t say anything and waits for Spencer to catch up. He can see the moment when Spencer gets it, sitting up quickly and pulling Ryan along with him.
When they’re settled on the bed, Spencer winds his long legs around him, and Ryan can’t stop looking at the nick in the side of Spencer’s knee from when he fell while playing tag when they were ten and eleven. And Ryan realizes all of a sudden that this is how he always thinks of it, “when we were seven and eight,” “when we were twelve and thirteen,” like he can’t have one without the other. It’s the strangest mix of novelty and familiarity. Spencer’s huffing against his neck, warm breath and the scratch of his beard making Ryan shiver against him. The scent of Spencer’s skin should be almost mundane at this point, but it’s not right now, with Spencer close enough that he can’t smell anything else.
Spencer runs his nails along Ryan’s sides, drawing his attention back to him. “Stop thinking for once,” he says, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. Ryan wants to tell him what he was thinking, but he gets distracted when Spencer leans up as far as he can and pulls Ryan’s head back to him. They’re getting used to kissing now, everything from the casual pecks that Spencer feels free to drop onto his lips whenever the mood strikes him to the long minutes he’s been spending tucked up close against Ryan’s body, licking into his mouth with his hands cupped around Ryan’s jaw as if he’s trying to tell him something important using nothing but his breath and his tongue against Ryan’s. Ryan just holds on, hoping he’ll understand the message eventually.
He breaks away, sliding down Spencer’s body and stripping him of his boxers as he goes. He knows it must be the least seductive act ever, so he stops thinking about it, taking Spencer’s cock in his mouth and making a few shallow bobs before going down as far as he can. He pulls back quickly before he can choke, and goes to try again when Spencer puts a hand on his head, pushing his hair back.
“Ryan. I’m not grading you on technique.” Ryan laughs against him and settles for jacking him while he shifts further down, running a knuckle behind his balls just to hear Spencer gasp. He leans in and gets a shoulder under one of Spencer’s legs, replacing his fingers with his tongue before he can stop to think about it. “Ryan?” Spencer asks, like he wants to check before they go further, but his hips still tilt up and Ryan decides he might as well go for it.
He’s done this before, with girls, but Spencer is entirely different, his voice getting higher and his legs pulling back towards his chest as if he can’t help it. Ryan rubs his cock against the sheets, trying to concentrate and lick deeper into Spencer, who’s shuddering now, accidentally kicking him in the shoulder as he shakes.
“Ryan,” he warns, one hand clenched in the sheet next to him and the other grasping Ryan’s hand where he’s rested it on Spencer’s stomach and tangling their fingers together. Spencer’s breathing like a bellows as he tries to hold on, making their hands move up and down rapidly. Ryan pulls away, climbing up on top of him and bringing their joined hands up to rest next to Spencer’s head. Spencer leans up to kiss him and Ryan tries to pull back, but Spencer just grips his hand harder, before tugging until he can get it free. He sinks his fingers into Ryan’s hair and pulls his head down until they’re breathing into each other’s mouths.
“Spence,” he starts, but Spencer leans up far enough to catch Ryan’s lips with his. It’s shockingly hot, and dirtier than anything Ryan’s ever done before. His hips stutter against Spencer’s and Spencer rides it out, rocking up into him as they kiss. He pulls away, out of the kiss, his hips still pressed tight to Spencer’s. Spencer runs a hand down his back, resting right above his ass and holding Ryan to him, and Ryan thrusts into the cradle of his hips for a moment before dragging himself away.
He pulls back and takes off his underwear, fumbling as he tries to stay upright. “We need - where -”
Spencer cuts him off and shoves him towards the side of the bed. “Nightstand,” he says, sounding breathy. Ryan reaches over before stopping and turning back to look at Spencer.
“You planned this?”
Spencer kicks him in the leg. “Yeah, I used my amazing psychic skills to figure out that we’d eventually have sex. Will you please get the condoms?”
When Ryan settles back on top of him, Spencer grabs the condom from him and opens it. He’s bewildered for a moment, until Spencer stops and pushes the lube at him. “Work with me here.”
He opens Spencer up with his fingers, going as quickly as he can without hurting him. Spencer’s hand shakes as he rolls the condom down onto him, and Ryan takes a moment to drop his head to Spencer’s shoulder. “Just, give me a second.” When he feels like he’s back in control, he lifts his head and Spencer takes that as his cue to throw a leg over Ryan’s hips, pulling them back together and helping him push in.
There’s that initial moment of oh god, oh god, don’t come, before he can settle a bit and move against Spencer. Spencer’s hot and clenching around him, his legs settling against Ryan, almost caging him in. He meets Ryan’s eyes. His pupils are completely blown, but he still looks like he’s searching for something. He opens his mouth like he might say something and Ryan burrows his head down against Spencer’s chest and starts moving. It’s slower and easier than he was expecting, Spencer resting a leg along his side and moving with him. They’re pressed so close together that the friction of their bodies gets Spencer off quickly, convulsing against Ryan in waves. Ryan stays as still as he can, moving his head until he’s breathing into Spencer’s hair. When Spencer’s done, he raises a hand to scratch at the nape of Ryan’s neck, pulling his hair as he starts moving under Ryan again. Ryan leans back into it, closing his eyes and trembling as he comes.
He lies there for a moment, Spencer’s hand still in his hair and one leg hooked around Ryan’s waist while the other rubs against his thigh. Spencer eventually pushes him off to the side, letting Ryan toss the condom away before pulling them both under the covers and flopping back onto the bed, exhausted. He reaches up to turn off the light before moving closer to Ryan. Ryan lies on his back, pressed along Spencer’s side, and rests the back of his hand against Spencer’s leg.
“Spence?” he asks, more quietly than he means to.
Spencer yawns, and then says, “Yeah, Ryan,” and it sounds definitive, as if he’s answering a question. Ryan lets out a breath and rubs his knuckles up and down Spencer’s thigh until he falls asleep.
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He wakes up in the middle of the night with Spencer tucked up close against his back, his breath fanning Ryan’s hair but not touching him otherwise even though they’re nearly pressed together on their sides, chest to back.
Neither of them have ever been cuddlers, really. They’re comfortable in each other’s personal space, but before this sharp turn in the road, they’ve never been particularly deliberate about it. Growing up, Ryan got used to curving against Spencer in a tiny bed, during naps when they were kids or crashing after parties or just needing a place to collapse and be still for a moment. He got so used to the feeling of Spencer against him, the two of them close enough to touch but not making an effort to, that it never seemed out of the ordinary.
With Brent and Trevor, there was still that distance, close enough to punch each other in the arm or give half of a hug, but nothing more. Brendon had been kind of a revelation at first, manic and loud and then quieting down to an intense silence when he was angry or concentrating, or just wanting to project “I don’t want to talk about it” without having to actually say the words. But the most important thing he brought them was the affection, dropping onto Spencer’s lap when he was tired, clinging to Brent’s back and not letting go when he was excited, and grabbing Ryan’s hand and holding on when they both needed the contact but neither wanted to ask for it or explain to anyone.
Brendon made Ryan realize just how much he did touch Spencer, and the awareness was sharp at first, making him reconsider every move they made. Brendon used touch to convey his every thought with everyone. The fumbling, joking times Ryan and Spencer had tried out kissing each other when they were younger became more significant somehow, raising the possibility that they actually meant something once Ryan could see that there was a whole world of communicating through touch that he and Spencer had never really dealt with. He’d managed to gloss over it once they all got used to Brendon, who could straddle someone with his arms locked around them and still mean it platonically. He still doesn’t know if Spencer had ever thought it through the same way, or if he just adjusted to Ryan pulling back as he figured things out and then pushing back into his space once it settled in his head. Spencer has a bad habit of bending to accommodate Ryan, and he’s not sure if this was just another one of those times.
He turns over and looks at Spencer sleeping, still held slightly away from him. He tries out an arm over Spencer’s waist, and when that doesn’t wake him, he moves even closer, tugging Spencer towards him as gently as he can and lifting his foot to rest his ankle against one of Spencer’s. Spencer mumbles in his sleep, moving closer to Ryan and settling into him. Ryan watches Spencer breathe until he can fall asleep.
Part Two