Our Endless Numbered Days (Jon/Spencer)
Title: Our Endless Numbered Days
Pairing: Jon/Spencer (Pete/Patrick)
Word Count: 19,000
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The summer after his freshman year of college, Spencer goes home to Vegas and ends up working at an amusement park.
Author's Notes: So originally I thought an Adventureland AU would be super cool, but then I figured out that I really just wanted to write fic set in an aging amusement park.
written for foxxcub in the drawn_to exchange. Thanks to playfullips and themoononastick for the wonderful betas. And, oh hey, foxxcub, thanks for running the exchange! I hope you like this, bb.
Spencer wakes up after noon for the third morning in a row. He stretches and rolls over and dozes for a handful of minutes before he swings his legs over the side of the bed. Then he wastes some more time rubbing at his eyes and yawning and dragging up the will to head down stairs for breakfast. Lunch. Whatever.
He bypasses the kitchen entirely and heads for the living room instead. His parents have nice couches, and the television in there is bigger than the one in his bedroom.
He's busy debating the merits of day time TV versus playstation, flipping the remote in his hand with his bare feet on the coffee table when his mom comes in. She knees his feet off the table and shoots him a 'you know better than that' look, but she sits at the edge and passes him the fresh cup of coffee in her hands, so Spencer mutters, "Thanks," instead of sorry.
His mom looks at him for a while, long enough that it starts to feel like she's looking for something in particular. He's just about to ask what when she says, "Late shift."
"Oh," he says, even though he figured as much, her schedule's up on the fridge and why else would she be home at noon on a Tuesday.
"Ryan's home for the summer, too," she says, easy, like she's just making conversation. Spencer already knows that Ryan's back in Vegas, but he nods. The coffee is too hot in his hands and he wants to set it down, but there are no coasters and his mom's kind of fencing him in. That's never a good sign.
"He got a job," she goes on, "at that amusement park you guys always complained about going to." That, that Spencer didn't know, but he hasn't talked to Ryan in a few days. He did know he was going to look for a summer job so he could save up for an apartment next year. His scholarship covers some room and board, but not enough to live off campus. Spencer keeps meaning to call Ryan, but he hasn't worked up the energy yet. It does sort of weird him out that his mom is communicating with Ryan more often than he is.
"You should call him. Get out of the house. Maybe earn your keep." She smiles at the end of it, and maybe Spencer should be annoyed at her particular brand of nagging, as sneakily unobtrusive as it is, but mostly he just misses her from about three feet away. Because this is it, right? There's only so much time left with Spencer under his parent's roof.
She ruffles his hair as she stands and Spencer can't bring himself to bat her hand away. Almost as an afterthought she adds, "Brendon and Brent too, you should see what they're up to. I always liked those kids."
He watches as his mom gathers up her things, shouldering her purse and somehow managing to hold on to her water, keys and lunch bag all in one hand. She tells him she'll be home after nine and that the girls are swimming at Liz's. He doesn't know who Liz is, but he kind of likes the way his mom has easily fallen back into having him home, like things haven’t changed much in the last eight months he was at school.
On her way out she tosses him the phone. "Call," she says.
"Yeah," he answers. "Yeah, okay." He glances up from the phone to wave goodbye. "Bye mom."
"Bye sweetie," she says, and she's out the door.
Spencer stares at the phone for a little while, flips it over in his hands the same way he flipped the remote. He thinks, not for the first time, that it might have been a better idea to stay in California for the summer. After a forty second mope, he dials Ryan’s cell from memory.
--
Ryan doesn’t pick up, but Spencer leaves a message. It’s something at least. He briefly considers calling Brendon, but decides he can do that later. After breakfast. Lunch. Whatever.
The idea of catching up with Brent is unappealing. Not because Spencer doesn’t like Brent, he does, but because conversations with him have been sort of weird since he went to school. Things never came as easy with him as they did with Ryan or Brendon, and Spencer’s not sure if it’s because they never had much in common or if it’s because Brent is sort of a terrible conversationalist. Either way, it’s only ever gotten worse and Spencer doesn’t have the energy to hold up one side of a conversation right now, let alone two.
It’s possible that Spencer is kind of an asshole.
But even assholes need to eat, so Spencer stops thinking about it and goes to mull over the contents of his parents’ fridge. Thus far, the food situation has been the bright spot in coming home for the summer.
--
When Ryan calls Spencer back a couple hours later, he sounds distracted but happy to talk to him. So, pretty much no change from the norm. Ryan must be working at the park because there’s a lot of background noise. Or maybe foreground noise and Ryan’s voice is the background. Spencer has to strain to hear him. He closes his bedroom door like that’s going to make it easier to pick out Ryan’s voice in the din, even though his house is silent.
Eventually, after he catches Ryan laughing at something that isn’t him for like the fourth time, Spencer asks, “Hey, you want to call me back later?”
“No, no,” Ryan says. Then adds, “There’s this thing tonight, you should come.”
That’s specific. “You know how I love things,” Spencer says.
“Shut up,” Ryan counters. “It’s a thing. At like, Gabe’s or Victoria’s or something. It’ll be fun. Come.” Ryan always does that, he talks about people like Spencer knows who they are. For the second time in as many hours, Spencer is comforted by the fact that, you know, maybe he’s been apart from his mom or Ryan or whoever, but they’re still mostly the same.
Not that he thought he’d come home to strangers. But still. It’s nice.
Spencer’s gone quiet, but Ryan’s busy talking to someone else directly into Spencer’s ear. “Hey Jon,” Ryan says, “is the thing at Victoria’s or Gabe’s?”
Jon is another one of those people that Ryan often refers to like Spencer knows him. He doesn’t. Not really. Okay, he knows that he’s Ryan’s friend from Chicago, but he’s never actually met him. Sometimes even Spencer forgets that.
“So Victoria and Gabe actually live together. Which I think I knew at one point? Anyway, I was right. The thing is at their place. You’re coming, right?"
Spencer smiles because Ryan is an idiot, but he says, “Yeah, sure.”
“Or you could come down now? I can get you in for free. I know a guy.”
Spencer hems and haws a little, indecisive, but Ryan breaks into it, “Do you have big plans today? Can't come see your best friend after eight months?”
“It hasn't been eight months. I saw you at Christmas. And Spring Break. And I talk to you more than I talk to my family.”
Ryan always laughs when Spencer pouts. It's not really fair because Ryan pouts a lot and Spencer rarely laughs at him. Or he only laughs at him like half the time. “That wasn't actually the point, Spence. Didn't you miss me?”
Missing is putting it mildly. He doesn’t say it though, he just asks, “Bored, huh?”
“Abysmally,” Ryan says, “So I'll see you in a bit then.” It's not a question. “Brendon's coming down this afternoon sometime, too, I think. He needs a fourth job. Or a third. No, pretty sure it's a fourth.”
If Spencer doesn’t interrupt, this could go on for a while. “Bye, Ryan.”
“Oh yeah. Okay, Bye.”
--
Ryan meets him at the gate. And he doesn’t know a guy, but he knows a girl. A very bored girl with her chin in her hand and her elbow on the little opening where people pass their money through for tickets.
Ryan holds up his hand to wave at her, and to anyone else it would appear awkward, but to Spencer Ryan just looks relaxed, much more at ease than he used to look. It makes Ryan seem exactly the same and entirely different all at once.
The girl blows her bangs out of her eyes and waves them in. Spencer pushes at Ryan’s shoulder blade when he follows him through the turnstile and Ryan stops walking because he's just that annoying and wow, wow, he really did miss Ryan. Which he knew, but still. Wow.
Ryan says, “Oh, that was Victoria. I probably should’ve introduced you.”
“Probably,” Spencer says.
Ryan changes the subject. “Brendon’s here. Meeting with Patrick.”
“Oh," Spencer answers. He, of course, has no idea who Patrick is.
“So like, we’ll find them and then I have to get back to the bumper cars. Eventually.”
“You’re what? Operating the bumper cars? That’s your job?” That sounds like really bad planning, Spencer decides. Or well, they have bumpers, what’s the worst that could happen?
Ryan rubs at his nose, “Well yeah, today. It’s slightly better than food service, slightly worse than, like shilling quarters at the arcade.” Ryan shrugs. “Patrick has this theory about cross-training. How if everyone’s trained at everything, there are no gaps when people quit or don’t show up. I think the turn-over rate here is kind of high.”
Spencer mostly listens to Ryan, but a lot of his attention is focused on looking around. The park looks exactly the same as it did when he and Ryan were kids. Enough that it makes him strangely nostalgic for funnel cake and laser tag and that one time he made Ryan laugh so hard he threw up in line before they even got on the roller coaster.
The place looks aged, sure, but Spencer remembers that the park had looked run down back when they were ten and eleven. And there are small changes here and there, but nothing major, nothing like Disneyland sized overhauls.
Ryan steers him left by nudging him with an elbow. Spencer had forgotten how he was prone to doing that.
There's a cluster of people hanging out under a tree. It's a scrubby half dead thing, but Spencer knows all about taking shade where you can get it.
They get closer and of the six or seven people, he only recognizes Brendon. Brendon hugs Spencer first and Ryan second. He claims it’s because he’s seen Ryan more than Spencer, but whatever, Spencer will take it.
It’s also Brendon who makes the introductions even though presumably he’s just met these people.
There’s a Greta and a Bob and a few other names that Spencer isn’t sure he’ll remember later, even if he tries. Brendon gets to Jon and he’s pretty sure he’ll remember him, if for nothing other than Ryan’s sake.
Jon’s short. Short enough that he has to cuff his jeans over his flip flops. And he’s wearing sun glasses against the glare of the sun even though no one else is. He holds up his hand when Brendon introduces him. The gesture reminds Spencer of Ryan. They must spend a lot of time together.
While Spencer’s busy processing whether or not the feeling he's feeling is jealousy, an even shorter guy comes up behind Jon and throws an arm over his shoulder.
Jon picks up the introductions and points at the guy. He says, “This is Pete.” Jon grins with half his mouth when he says it, and Spencer’s still looking at Jon when he says hello to Pete. When Spencer does look at Pete, Pete's grin is all teeth and it’s more than easy to smile back at him.
“And this,” Pete says, “is Patrick.”
Spencer didn’t even notice the addition, but Patrick seems distracted enough by Pete not to notice Spencer not noticing. Patrick keeps batting Pete’s hand away from the general area of his ear.
Patrick dodges Pete again and Spencer has just enough time to think, huh, this is a weird way to meet someone, before Greta says, "Geez, Patrick, just let him do it, this is painful to watch."
Patrick shoots Greta a look, but he sighs and stops bobbing and weaving so Pete can do...whatever it is he's going to do. Spencer barks out a sharp, awkward laugh when he sees Pete pull a quarter from behind Patrick's ear. Patrick holds out his hand for the quarter and rolls his eyes and Spencer gets the feeling this whole exchange happens a lot. Like daily. Maybe more.
Pete makes like he's going to drop it in Patrick's hand, but pulls back at the last second to flip it through his knuckles like a poker chip a few times before he makes it disappear through basic sleight of hand.
Patrick shoves his hands in his pockets and after he stops looking at Pete, he looks at Brendon. "I see you met Pete. Pete pretends to fix things."
Brendon nods. "I met Pete," he manages through a laugh.
"Pete also does magic," Pete says.
"Pete pretends to do magic," Patrick says.
"He's slightly better at fixing things," Greta interrupts. "Speaking of which, the tilt-a-whirl is making a really troubling noise."
Pete makes a noise with his teeth and his tongue. "Top of the list, Grets," he says, but he doesn't move.
"What do I even pay you people for," Patrick says. He turns his gaze from Pete to Jon and adds, "That's like four dress code violations, Walker."
Jon looks at his feet. "Yeah, sorry." He takes off his sunglasses to fold them into the neck of his shirt and squints apologetically at Patrick.
"Just. You know, don't sue if you step on a rusty nail or something." Patrick sounds like he's given up on forcing Jon to wear actual shoes.
When Pete laughs, it is somehow simultaneously grating and compelling. “Like this whole place isn’t one big lawsuit waiting to happen,” he says.
Spencer watches the way Patrick looks at Pete. He’s obviously irritated, but he also looks kind of hurt by what Pete said.
“Tilt-a-whirl,” Pete says, “I’m gonna see about the tilt-a-whirl.” He rubs his hand over Patrick’s shoulder and says, “Sorry,” quietly, as though it’s meant for only Patrick to hear, but they’re all too close or Pete’s not used to speaking quite so low and it doesn’t really work out.
Patrick shrugs Pete off and watches him go. Their little group breaks up after that and people wander back to their jobs until only Brendon, Ryan, Patrick and Spencer are left.
After a half-second Patrick looks at Spencer and says, “Spencer, right?” He holds out his hand and Spencer shakes it.
"Hi," Spencer says.
"Hey," Patrick says, quickly, like his attention is split between what he’s currently doing and what he could be doing. "You look respectable. Want a job?"
"Uh." Spencer doesn't really know how to answer that.
"The pay's low and the hours are crap," Patrick says, "but a job's a job and your boss is pretty great."
Spencer still doesn't answer, but he's considering. He could use the money and he definitely needs something to do all day.
"The boss would be me. In case that wasn't clear."
"Um, okay?" Spencer says, and that, as they say, is that.
--
After a hasty tour from Patrick, Spencer and Brendon walk out together. When they get to the gate Brendon starts unlocking his bike.
"Hey, you need a ride?" Spencer asks. He flips his keys and watches Brendon deliberate. Air conditioning must win out.
"Yeah, yeah. That'd be great. Thanks." Brendon says thanks like there's no a, just a bunch of blurred consonants. It's the same way he's always said it. Spencer is going to have to stop being so nostalgic about every last insignificant thing. He is not a nostalgic guy.
It takes some doing, but they manage to get Brendon's bike in the trunk and close the hood. Neither of them make a packing it in joke, so maybe they're growing up or something. Or maybe they've hit that point where they don't need to actually say it out loud because Brendon waggles his eyebrows and Spencer laughs and yeah, that's probably it.
"Hey, so you're employed!" Brendon says once they're in the car and Spencer's turned up the AC to full blast. "I can't believe I had, like, an interview and a resume and everything and then Patrick just looked at you and hired you."
"It's a burden, my honest face," Spencer says, nodding solemnly.
"And my face isn't honest?"
Spencer looks at Brendon. "Sucks to be you."
Brendon slumps lower in his seat and pouts for about three seconds before he sits up and starts talking again. "So, Jon," Brendon says, and oh God, Spencer was totally obvious with staring, wasn't he? Brendon is going to give him so much shit. But all he says is, "You finally met him. He's a nice guy."
Spencer concentrates on the left he has to make. "He seemed it. Have you? Met him before?"
"Yeah, he visited one weekend with Ryan. You were at school. He's a nice guy."
"You said that already," Spencer says.
"Did I?" Brendon asks innocently. "Patrick seems like a good guy, too. That Pete guy sure seems to like him."
"Dude. Right?"
"It almost made me sad for him. It did make me sad for him." Brendon holds his hand over his chest. "Like it's never gonna happen."
"I wouldn't say that," Spencer says, cutting over to the right lane so he can turn into Brendon's old neighborhood. Current neighborhood. Whatever.
"Wait," says Brendon, clearly disbelieving. "You saw the. With the." Brendon waves his hands around and goes for Spencer's ear like Pete did with Patrick.
Spencer twitches away and laughs. He says, "Yeah, I saw it. He-" Spencer cuts himself off, because his explanation is going to sound really fucking stupid. And also trite. And also stupid. "Ten bucks says they hook up before the end of the summer."
Brendon squints at him. "What do you know that I don't know?"
"Doesn't matter. Ten bucks, you in or not?"
Brendon's still eying him suspiciously.
Spencer pulls up to the curb. "Oh look, we're here. In or out."
Brendon gets out and leans into the window while Spencer's popping the trunk. "In." He holds out a hand to shake on it, and seriously, Brendon really is the honest one.
"So you're going to the thing later?" Spencer asks while Brendon's still angled toward the car.
"Yeah," Brendon says, "I might stop by after work if I can swing it."
"You're still at the Smoothie Hut, right? I'll pick you up?" Brendon starts to protest, but Spencer talks over him. "Come on man, don't make me go by myself." Spencer is twelve. He doesn't even care.
"You know Ryan," Brendon says, "and Jon." He throws in a suggestively arched eyebrow at that. Brendon is apparently giving him shit. Subtle shit. How novel. Spencer rolls his eyes. Brendon laughs and raps his knuckles on the car door. He says "I should be done at 8:30. See you later."
--
Ryan and Jon are sitting on the floor in front of the record player when Spencer and Brendon walk into Gabe and Victoria's. It takes him a while to notice (long enough to get a beer and claim some space on a free couch) that they keep playing the same song over and over again. They haven’t moved and they’re talking in hushed tones, heads bent together. Every time the song ends, one of them reaches over and lifts the needle and sets it back at the beginning, usually, but not always, with minimal scratchy sounds.
Spencer tries not to keep looking over, tries to pay attention to Brendon’s story about his Smoothie Hut job, but he can’t help it. Maybe if Jon wasn’t playing with Ryan’s shoe laces it would be easier to ignore them.
“Walker’s got weird mating habits,” Spencer says, interrupting Brendon.
“Yeah he does,” Brendon agrees. But when he looks over at Jon and Ryan, he laughs and says, “Oh man, that is not Jon Walker mating.”
Spencer looks at Brendon, then looks at where Jon now has Ryan’s entire shoed foot in his lap. “Well, I mean obviously he’s not mating mating,” Brendon goes on. “But he’s not like. Jon’s not interested in Ryan.” Brendon’s laugh is getting a little high pitched.
Spencer looks over again and Jon is looking at him. “Oh,” Spencer says to Brendon.
--
After Victoria has threatened their lives if they play that song one more fucking time, seriously boys, Ryan pulls Jon over to the couch and they both push Spencer over a little so all four of them can fit. Tightly, but nicely, Brendon calls it.
“Spencer. Spence,” Jon says, “which do you prefer?”
Spencer shrugs, “Either works for me.” He has to elbow Brendon so he doesn’t helpfully suggest Spenny, because no. No.
“Spence,” Jon says again. “You're lucky we’re sharing a couch, because I am going to take this opportunity to tell you all the best dirt about all the best Funworld employees.” Jon is maybe a little drunk.
Spencer settles back into the couch, or more like shifts very minutely into the back of the couch, in an unsuccessful attempt to sprawl. “Hit me,” he says.
“See that guy?” Jon asks. He points and his finger follows a short guy with long curly hair heading outside for a cigarette. “That guy is Joe, and Joe has all the best weed.”
“Okay,” Spencer says. “Good to know. What else?”
“What else?” Jon asks.
“Yeah, what else?”
Ryan leans over Jon to say, “That’s all he’s got.”
Jon smiles sheepishly and shrugs. “It’s true. But you’ve gotta admit, that’s pretty good.”
Spencer laughs. Jon leans back so his shoulder presses comfortably into Spencer’s. Brendon starts telling Jon and Ryan about Spencer’s super secret insight into the Pete-Patrick conundrum and Ryan knocks Spencer lightly in the temple over Jon’s head.
Spencer is really glad he came.
--
Spencer's first shift at Funworld involves manning one of the refreshment stands. Specifically, the cotton candy stand.
Spencer has nothing against cotton candy. He's not into it as like a snack, because frankly, that's a lot of sugar, but he doesn't wish it ill or anything. Or he doesn't until after he's been standing there for about 30 minutes and he's mid-spin on his fifth cone. Turns out sugar flying around at an accelerated rate hurts like fuck. Turns out he's sticky all the way up his arm. Turns out he can't hand over a cone of the stuff without getting his other hand sticky as well, despite the latex gloves.
And all of this would be fine, or at the very least manageable, if it weren't pushing 104 degrees in the shade.
Spun sugar is the devil, Spencer is sure.
After that, things get a little quiet. Quiet enough that Spencer can really concentrate on how uncomfortably sticky his arm is, nearly up to his armpit, and god only knows how that even happened.
During the lull, Spencer glances over to where Brendon is dipping churros in cinnamon and a little further off where Jon is handing out ice cream bars like they're going out of style.
Ice cream, now that's a treat Spencer can get behind. Churros too, only maybe not so much in the middle of summer.
Jon glances up while Spencer's looking his way and Spencer panics and shifts his line of sight over to the bumper cars. He's so dumb. He glances back at Jon and Jon's on his tiptoes holding his hand up to wave at him over the heads of a couple of super tall ice cream patrons. Spencer smiles at Jon and laughs at himself.
It's not until an hour later that Jon jogs over to say hello. Or rather, what he says is, "Switch with me," with no preamble or greeting.
"What?" Spencer asks intelligently.
"Switch with me. Hurry because the natives are getting restless." Jon shoots a look over his shoulder to his recently vacated booth where there's already a short line forming in his absence.
"You. You couldn't possibly want cotton candy. Nobody wants cotton candy." It's true. Spencer only got stuck with it because he's the new guy. Newest guy.
"Well," Jon says, "you don't want it either," like that's a reasonable explanation. "C'mon. Before I change my mind or things get violent at ice cream stand number 2."
Spencer’s still not moving. What he’s doing is trying to figure Jon out. It’s not until Jon comes around to his side of the stand and starts nudging him in the direction of the ice cream that Spencer decides that now may not be the best time to do that. “Your sour face is hurting my soul, Spence. You’re doing me a favor, really.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” he tells Jon, because yeah, ice cream, he’s on board. And just for the record, his face is not sour.
He starts shucking his pink-tinged gloves on the way, because the ice cream is pre-wrapped.
The rest of his shift goes pretty slow, but it is also considerably less sticky. And he gets to laugh at Jon’s complete inability to wrap the cotton candy around the paper cone in a way that isn’t anything other than messy. He’d almost feel guilty, but Jon smiles and charms his way out of any customer complaints. Also, every time someone walks up to buy something from him, Spencer is treated to a cool blast from the freezer and, as selfish as it makes him, he can’t bring himself to give that up and offer to switch back.
--
Spencer and Jon get off their shifts at the same time. Joe comes to relieve him at the ice cream stand and Ryan’s due to relieve at the cotton candy stand, but he’s five minutes late. Because he’s Ryan.
Spencer waits around with Jon for Ryan to show up. At first he’s just going to stop by on his way out to say thanks (he forgot to in the face of his absolute joy, which he thinks is understandable), but then Jon starts telling him this story about Pete and Gabe and this bottle of water that wasn’t really a bottle of water. Spencer just can’t walk away from that. By the time Ryan wanders up, Spencer’s laughing and Jon’s smiling and Spencer still hasn’t said thank you.
Ryan looks like he just rolled out of bed, but he pushes his hair out of his eyes and lobs his car keys at Jon. “Um,” he says, “You should probably get gas soon. I’m not sure how long the lights been on, but I think it’s been a while.”
Spencer has this evil moment where he’d be willing to sacrifice the rest of his afternoon just to watch a hung-over, sleep-deprived Ryan wrangle with the cotton candy machine. He’s gotta be bad at it on a good day.
Jon tugs at the sleeve of his shirt and says, “Freedom, Spence. Freedom. Let’s get out of here.”
Spencer waves goodbye to Ryan and Ryan blinks at him. Brendon still has a couple hours left at the churro stand. He waves dejectedly at them as they pass on their way to the employee lounge. Jon pouts pitifully at him and Brendon pouts back. Spencer's friends are idiots.
After he throws away his gloves and grabs his backpack, Jon bite-licks what must be cotton candy remnants off the inside of his wrist. “Sweet,” he says.
Spencer bets.
What he tells Jon, though, is, “See you tomorrow.”
--
They go out to the desert one night, Brendon and Jon and Ryan and Greta and Nate and, well almost everyone. Even Patrick shows up.
There's a fire and it feels like this is what kids on tv shows do in beach towns, only minus the ocean and the indie soundtrack and the jock beating up the geeky kid.
Spencer walks away from the heat of the fire and winds up sitting on the hood of Ryan's car, watching the fire and the way Ryan ducks in close to hear Greta and the easy way Alex rubs at Ryland's shoulders.
Jon shuffles up after a bit and hands Spencer a s’more. "The marshmallows were running out," he says.
Spencer takes it and bites it and says, "Oh my god, thank you."
Jon doesn't sit, but he leans against the hood. "Can I?" He asks.
"Dude, you made me a s’more. You can sit wherever you want."
Spencer only knows Jon is smiling because he can see a quick gleam of his teeth. He sits and says, "Actually, Brendon made you a s’more. I did bring it to you though, that's gotta count for something."
There's a lull in the conversation, but it's not an uncomfortable one. Spencer can't say much around the marshmallow anyway. Even though he isn't looking directly at Jon, Spencer can see him curl forward and rest his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand. He looks where Spencer looked, out towards the fire, and he curls and uncurls his toes over the soles of his flip flops. Pete's doing a handstand with his legs curled back and Brendon's dusting his hands off on his pants like he's gearing up to join him. Someone is going to die in a fire. Patrick must think so, too; he jams his hat down on his head and walks away.
"No seriously, what makes you think Pete has a chance?"
Spencer tries to say, "I'll never tell," but he has the last bite of s'more in his mouth and it comes out pretty garbled.
Pete looks like he's wobbling and Greta pulls at his ankle so he'll fall toward her not the fire.
After Spencer has licked his fingers clean, Jon says, "Hey, what are you going to school for? Ryan never said." It's the phrasing that trips Spencer up. Like there's the obvious answer: to get an education, a degree, figure out what he wants to do with his life and then proceed to do it, hopefully in such a way that he makes a decent living. There's the other obvious answer: because he's supposed to. And yes, Spencer is aware that Jon was not asking why in the larger sense. The problem is, he doesn't have a very good answer for the smaller sense of the question either.
"Um," Spencer rubs his palms on his jeans a couple of times. "I'm basically just getting the general stuff out of the way. I haven't declared a major yet or anything."
Jon nods, chin still resting on his hand. "Yeah. I never declared a major either."
"I thought. Didn't Ryan meet you in an art history class? I thought he said something about photography. Maybe." Maybe it's weird that Spencer remembers. Jon doesn't seem to mind though.
"Yeah, yeah. I was thinking about fine arts, definitely. But, I mean, it's not like you need a degree to take pictures, you know? Not that it hurts, but. I'm just gonna..." Jon points to the passenger door and hops off the hood to go rummage in the front seat. He comes back with a half empty pack of American Spirits and digs a lighter out of his pocket before he sits down again. Spencer watches him fish out a cigarette then offer him the pack. Spencer doesn't smoke all that often, but it's a nice night for it.
"No, yeah," Spencer says, picking up the thread of conversation. He doesn't really know where to go from there and he lets the thread drop again.
“I have this friend, back in Chicago,” Jon says.
Spencer interrupts, “There are people left in Chicago?”
Jon laughs because Spencer is funny and seriously, like 85% of the people Spencer can see are from Chicago. Or like 60% at least. “One or two,” Jon says. “So. This friend. We’ll call him Tom, because that’s his name. Tom has this band. And I was going to classes and I didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t. Like you know how Ryan knows he wants to write and knows he can write and he’s got that. He knows what he’s working towards. Which is great, but I didn’t have that. So my friend-”
“Tom, yeah,” Spencer interjects.
“Tom. Tom calls me up,” Jon pauses. “Wait, I need to back up. Tom and me were in this other band before Tom’s other band. Which. Dude, I tell the worst stories when I’m drunk. I’m going somewhere with this, I promise.”
Spencer smiles at him, because he just can’t help himself. “I’m following, you’re good.”
There’s a breath of a laugh and Jon takes a slow drag before he goes on. “Tommy called me up and told me they were going on tour, and he asks me if I want to come along as a guitar tech. And I didn’t even- I like barely thought about it before I said yes.”
Spencer can totally see the appeal of the situation. Only if he was in Jon’s shoes, he’s pretty sure he never would have entertained the notion of dropping everything. It’s sort of crazy to think about, really.
"So I teched and I shot some stuff for them and it was great," Jon says, "It was really great. But then the tour ended and I came home. That was a while ago and I haven't gone back. To school I mean. I don't know if I will." There's a pause where Jon takes another drag. "Maybe I will."
"You're not ruling it out," Spencer says.
"I'm not ruling it out. Basically, I don't want to rule anything out." Jon drums his fingers on the hood and laughs with his head down, like maybe he's laughing at himself. Spencer can't really tell. "You're what, nineteen?"
Spencer wrinkles his nose. "Uh, in a couple months that'll be right."
Jon doesn't comment, but Spencer can see him mentally adjusting. "The thing that I'm like failing to say here is that you'll figure it out," Jon says. "And I will too. Probably." There's a beat. "The probably is for me."
"Shut up, you'll be fine." Spencer looks down at his lap and says, "And yeah, I know I will be too. I'm just, uh, not used to not having shit figured out I guess."
"Then this is good for you," Jon says and he sounds kind of like he's mocking Spencer and kind of like he's not. Mostly he sounds friendly. "You can see how the rest of us feel all the time."
Spencer laughs and Jon bumps his shoulder. "The band I was in? Pete and Patrick opened for us one time."
"Seriously?" Spencer asks. He tries, but he really can't picture it. Like at all.
"Joe too, and this other guy Andy. I'm totally big time." Jon pulls at his ear like he's scratching it. There's enough light thrown from the fire that Spencer can just see the curve of his mouth when he smiles.
"Sure you are," Spencer grins, "it's a wonder you're even talking to me."
"I was just thinking the same thing," Jon says.
"We had a band once, me and Ryan and Brendon," Spencer nods towards where the two of them are sitting close to the fire.
"Yeah, Ryan said. What happened with that?"
"The same thing that usually happens I guess. Ryan went to college and, I don't know, practice became fucking around mostly. We were never any good anyway," Spencer says dismissively even though it's not true. They were good. Or they could have been, given enough time. It's just easier to say they weren't than to say they could have been.
"That is definitely not what I heard," Jon says.
"Well, Brendon's an awesome musician. He can play anything. Seriously, anything. And, like, well." Spencer glances over at Brendon again. He can't see much but it looks like he could be singing. Which is, you know, typical of Brendon at any particular time of day. Maybe, if they do this again, Spencer will make him bring his guitar.
"Ryan said that, too," Jon says. Spencer feels kind of shitty at his surprise, but he is indeed surprised. Their band didn't bring out the best in either of their personalities, even if it brought out the best of their abilities. "He said you were pretty amazing, too."
Spencer shrugs, "I didn't suck," he says, "but he is my best friend. Consider the source is all I'm saying."
"Hmm," Jon says. "I guess the only way to settle this is you play for me and let me judge for myself."
Spencer can't argue with that, so he doesn't even try. He says, "Sure," through a smile, "I can do that."
After a while Jon goes to fetch them some beer. And later Spencer does. It's probably rude, but neither of them stray all that far from the car.
--
The rest of the week goes by in much the same way. Spencer spends most of the day working. He learns how to operate most of the rides, the games, the cash registers. It’s not so bad, except for the heat and the slow hours without many guests, and the heat, did he mention the heat? At least the company is usually pretty good. Spencer likes his co-workers.
The park closes before the sun sets, running the lights is too expensive and Spencer doesn't know for sure, but he can't imagine that an aging, off the strip amusement park brings in a whole lot of money. So the park closes and there’s always a place to go after work. Some house party in some grassless back yard with coolers full of beer and haphazardly strung Christmas lights.
And it's always the same sort of night. Always the same, but not boring yet. Greta's laugh always carries further than anyone else's. Gabe and Pete always seem to have some sort of unspoken competition over who can be loudest, drunkest, most obnoxious. Victoria seemed distant at first, gorgeous and aloof, but she's not. Well, she's gorgeous, Spencer's not blind, but she's the furthest thing from aloof. She curls an easy arm around whoever she'd like, Ryan or Ryland or whoever sits close, and says funny things, secret things, under her breath. Mostly she talks shit about Gabe. But nice shit.
And Jon will find Spencer or Spencer will find Jon and maybe Brendon and Ryan will join them and maybe they won’t, but the Jon part is pretty consistent.
Jon tells him about his cats and about how he worked at Starbucks for a while. Spencer tells him about California, about how it wasn't bad, but how he kept waiting for it to get really good, the way everyone always said college would be. He’s sort of still waiting for that.
It’s all pretty easy, the way they fall into hanging out and talking and sharing a cigarette or three over a couple of bottles of beer. And maybe when Spencer looks at Jon, he doesn’t look away like he would with anyone else. But maybe Jon looks at him just as long so it doesn’t really matter. And maybe at work the next day they're all a little worse for the wear, all a little hungover and cranky, but it doesn't stop them from doing it the next night. Or it hasn't yet.
--
The park opens at nine and Spencer's shift starts at 8:30. Which, okay, it's not like it's that early, but he's been out every night since Thursday, which is nearly a week, and he's starting to miss sleep. Miss it as in long for it, pine for it, need it desperately.
Jon's shoving a backpack into a locker when Spencer walks in. Spencer only has keys and his wallet and a cup of coffee, all of which he'd like to keep on him for the duration, so he's not even sure why he hit the employee lounge anyway. He guesses it's just easier to settle into habits than to remember that he doesn't need to stow anything away.
He leans against the lockers and kicks at Jon's ankle. Jon blinks at him. Maybe Jon's missing out on a good night's sleep too.
"Where are you today?" Spencer asks.
Jon looks at something written on the inside of his palm. "Souvenir shop," he says blandly, "till one."
And even though it's obviously his shift information, Spencer kind of wants to turn Jon's hand over and see what he's written.
Spencer looks up and Jon is looking back expectantly. "Ring toss," he says, hoping Jon asked him about his shift.
Jon nods and chews on the corner of his lip. "Other side of the park," he says.
"Yeah." Spencer hadn't really thought about it, but now that Jon's brought it up he's surprisingly bummed out by the prospect of Jon not being within shouting distance. Or waving distance. Or whatever.
Probably he's just tired.
Jon's talking again, asking him what he's doing later. Later, Spencer is sleeping. Later, if he can muster the energy, he is sitting on his parents couch and watching a movie. Later, he is not consuming any alcohol or illegal substances or answering his phone.
He maybe says all this out loud. Jon looks...stricken. Maybe Spencer should tone it down a little.
"Sorry," he mumbles, "I think I'm just really tired."
Jon nods. "I get that.” he says. “Anyway, see you around or you know," Jon trails off and looks at Spencer for a minute. His mouth is turned down and Spencer wants to apologize again. He wasn't. It wasn't directed at Jon. He doesn't get a chance because Jon's already walking away.
Spencer’s morning keeps getting better and better.
--
Brendon hops into Spencer's booth, sliding over the worn wood on his rear end rather than opening the gate. Spencer ignores him to hand an orange stuffed octopus to the teenager who foiled the rigged ring toss and won.
The guy says, "Great. Awesome. Thanks." He sounds every bit as bored as Spencer feels and he holds the octopus light in his fingers as he walks away.
Brendon smiles bright at the back of his head and says, overly loud and overly cheerful, "Have a fun filled day at Funworld!"
Spencer grins despite himself.
Spencer rearranges the other aquatic stuffed animals while Brendon hops on the counter again, this time to sit and swing his legs so his feet hit the old wood at annoying, purposely off-beat intervals.
"So, date night tonight?" Brendon asks and Spencer turns to look at him with a small pile of turquoise turtles in his hands, because what?
"Gotta say, I admire Jon's ability to forgo societal norms. First date on a Wednesday, the kid's got moxy."
Spencer is about three seconds from throwing the turtles at Brendon's head one after another. It might even hurt a little if he threw them hard enough. If he does that, though, the likelihood that Brendon will still be inclined to explain what the fuck he's talking about will decrease considerably.
"You look confused," Brendon says slowly. Then quickly, "Oh shit, he didn't ask yet. Um. Pretend I didn't say anything?"
"What," Spencer enunciates carefully, "are you talking about?" There's a horrible swooping sensation in his stomach.
"When Jon asks you out? Just pretend I didn't say anything. Please?"
The swooping speeds up. It’s kind of nauseating. "Oh shit," Spencer says. "I think I turned him down."
Brendon slides off the ledge to stand and now it's his turn to say, "What? Why? It's so obvious you like him.” Brendon punctuates the statement with a self-satisfied ‘heh’ sound. “Like so obvious."
"Shut up."
"I'm just saying."
"Well stop saying and tell me how to fix it."
Brendon puts his hands on Spencer’s shoulders in what he probably thinks is a calming manner, mostly it just makes Spencer kind of twitchy and irritated. "Okay, okay. This is Jon we're talking about. This is definitely a fixable situation. Absolutely."
"Not helping!" Spencer says impatiently.
"I know!" Brendon says, equally on edge. After a second he visibly calms down and asks, "What happened?"
Spencer tells him in clipped, short sentences. He closes the sad tale with, "I don't know, I thought. I thought it was just another party, you know? I didn't get why he looked so disappointed."
Brendon smiles a little, like he's indulging Spencer and Spencer thinks again how satisfying it would be to throw shit at his head.
"Well step one is to stop glaring at me," Brendon says. "And step two is to tell him you changed your mind. And step three, if need be, is for someone to explain to both of you how asking someone out works. Like seriously, he could have at least hinted at the date aspect of the evening. It’s a wonder either of you ever get laid."
Spencer can barely hear the last part of Brendon's tirade because he's already walking away to find Jon.
"Sure, I'll cover the booth for you Spence, no problem," Brendon yells to him.
Spencer waves a hand in the air as a thank you but mostly he's jogging towards the other end of the park.
"Hey! Spencer!" Brendon yells again. Spencer turns around, but keeps walking backwards. "If all else fails just smile at him. Jon gets kinda stupid when you smile."
Spencer is actually going to kill Brendon. Just as soon as he stops grinning.
--
Jon isn't at the souvenir shop. At least he's not at either of the cash registers.
Nate notices Spencer looking around and jerks his head toward the back. There's a stupid smile on his face and Spencer hates everybody, seriously.
Jon's unpacking a couple of boxes, stuff that nobody in their right mind would ever need or want. Cheap snow globes with carousels in them and ugly red t-shirts with the Funworld logo across the chest.
When Spencer says hey, Jon looks up. It's not so bad that he doesn't grin his half-smile at Spencer and maybe Brendon had it wrong. Maybe Spencer's an idiot. In for a dollar, in for a pound.
"About tonight," Spencer starts, kind of slowly, kind of haltingly. "Brendon said that you said." And oh, the smile is disappearing now. Spencer stops talking.
"It's okay," Jon says. "It. Like it's no big deal if you don't want to hang out. Really. It's fine." Jon won't meet his eyes. It's almost adorable how he's looking at the space just to the left of Spencer’s head.
"I didn't know it was a date," Spencer says.
"It wasn't-"
Spencer talks over Jon cause at the rate they're going it'll be winter before they make a decision here. "If I had known, I would've said yes."
"Seriously, Spence, we don't have to- Wait. What?"
"If I had known you were asking me out," Spencer says, "I would have said yes."
"Oh," Jon says. He smiles for real, finally. His eyes crinkle up and everything. "I was asking you out."
"Yeah."
"On a date," Jon clarifies.
Spencer laughs. "I get that now. You kind of suck at it."
One corner of Jon’s mouth turns up and he says, “Kind of.” They wind up grinning at each other like idiots for a couple of seconds. “So,” Jon pauses. He looks mostly happy, but still a little reserved. He spins a snow globe in his hand, upside down and the glitter in it catches the light. “Is it still a yes?”
“Uhuh, definitely still a yes,” Spencer says.
"So, I'll pick you up at eight?" Jon asks.
"You could pick me up at eight, if you had a car."
"Technically," Jon says, "I do have a car. It's just in Chicago."
"Or I could pick you up at eight," Spencer offers, because he is helpful.
"It would probably save time," Jon agrees. "If I had to pick up my car first, I might be late."
"Can't have that," Spencer says. He has no idea what he's saying. He thinks he might be trying to flirt. It's pretty awful. "I should go," he says, before Jon changes his mind about the date business, "I sort of left Brendon at the ring toss against his will."
Jon nods. "Alright. See you later?"
"At eight," Spencer says and promptly backs into the doorjamb.
Jon is a really nice guy and doesn't laugh at him.
--
When Spencer gets back to the ring toss booth, Brendon asks, "How'd it go?"
Spencer answers by hugging Brendon. "You're the best," he says.
Brendon laughs in his ear and hugs him back.
part two
Pairing: Jon/Spencer (Pete/Patrick)
Word Count: 19,000
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The summer after his freshman year of college, Spencer goes home to Vegas and ends up working at an amusement park.
Author's Notes: So originally I thought an Adventureland AU would be super cool, but then I figured out that I really just wanted to write fic set in an aging amusement park.
written for foxxcub in the drawn_to exchange. Thanks to playfullips and themoononastick for the wonderful betas. And, oh hey, foxxcub, thanks for running the exchange! I hope you like this, bb.
Spencer wakes up after noon for the third morning in a row. He stretches and rolls over and dozes for a handful of minutes before he swings his legs over the side of the bed. Then he wastes some more time rubbing at his eyes and yawning and dragging up the will to head down stairs for breakfast. Lunch. Whatever.
He bypasses the kitchen entirely and heads for the living room instead. His parents have nice couches, and the television in there is bigger than the one in his bedroom.
He's busy debating the merits of day time TV versus playstation, flipping the remote in his hand with his bare feet on the coffee table when his mom comes in. She knees his feet off the table and shoots him a 'you know better than that' look, but she sits at the edge and passes him the fresh cup of coffee in her hands, so Spencer mutters, "Thanks," instead of sorry.
His mom looks at him for a while, long enough that it starts to feel like she's looking for something in particular. He's just about to ask what when she says, "Late shift."
"Oh," he says, even though he figured as much, her schedule's up on the fridge and why else would she be home at noon on a Tuesday.
"Ryan's home for the summer, too," she says, easy, like she's just making conversation. Spencer already knows that Ryan's back in Vegas, but he nods. The coffee is too hot in his hands and he wants to set it down, but there are no coasters and his mom's kind of fencing him in. That's never a good sign.
"He got a job," she goes on, "at that amusement park you guys always complained about going to." That, that Spencer didn't know, but he hasn't talked to Ryan in a few days. He did know he was going to look for a summer job so he could save up for an apartment next year. His scholarship covers some room and board, but not enough to live off campus. Spencer keeps meaning to call Ryan, but he hasn't worked up the energy yet. It does sort of weird him out that his mom is communicating with Ryan more often than he is.
"You should call him. Get out of the house. Maybe earn your keep." She smiles at the end of it, and maybe Spencer should be annoyed at her particular brand of nagging, as sneakily unobtrusive as it is, but mostly he just misses her from about three feet away. Because this is it, right? There's only so much time left with Spencer under his parent's roof.
She ruffles his hair as she stands and Spencer can't bring himself to bat her hand away. Almost as an afterthought she adds, "Brendon and Brent too, you should see what they're up to. I always liked those kids."
He watches as his mom gathers up her things, shouldering her purse and somehow managing to hold on to her water, keys and lunch bag all in one hand. She tells him she'll be home after nine and that the girls are swimming at Liz's. He doesn't know who Liz is, but he kind of likes the way his mom has easily fallen back into having him home, like things haven’t changed much in the last eight months he was at school.
On her way out she tosses him the phone. "Call," she says.
"Yeah," he answers. "Yeah, okay." He glances up from the phone to wave goodbye. "Bye mom."
"Bye sweetie," she says, and she's out the door.
Spencer stares at the phone for a little while, flips it over in his hands the same way he flipped the remote. He thinks, not for the first time, that it might have been a better idea to stay in California for the summer. After a forty second mope, he dials Ryan’s cell from memory.
--
Ryan doesn’t pick up, but Spencer leaves a message. It’s something at least. He briefly considers calling Brendon, but decides he can do that later. After breakfast. Lunch. Whatever.
The idea of catching up with Brent is unappealing. Not because Spencer doesn’t like Brent, he does, but because conversations with him have been sort of weird since he went to school. Things never came as easy with him as they did with Ryan or Brendon, and Spencer’s not sure if it’s because they never had much in common or if it’s because Brent is sort of a terrible conversationalist. Either way, it’s only ever gotten worse and Spencer doesn’t have the energy to hold up one side of a conversation right now, let alone two.
It’s possible that Spencer is kind of an asshole.
But even assholes need to eat, so Spencer stops thinking about it and goes to mull over the contents of his parents’ fridge. Thus far, the food situation has been the bright spot in coming home for the summer.
--
When Ryan calls Spencer back a couple hours later, he sounds distracted but happy to talk to him. So, pretty much no change from the norm. Ryan must be working at the park because there’s a lot of background noise. Or maybe foreground noise and Ryan’s voice is the background. Spencer has to strain to hear him. He closes his bedroom door like that’s going to make it easier to pick out Ryan’s voice in the din, even though his house is silent.
Eventually, after he catches Ryan laughing at something that isn’t him for like the fourth time, Spencer asks, “Hey, you want to call me back later?”
“No, no,” Ryan says. Then adds, “There’s this thing tonight, you should come.”
That’s specific. “You know how I love things,” Spencer says.
“Shut up,” Ryan counters. “It’s a thing. At like, Gabe’s or Victoria’s or something. It’ll be fun. Come.” Ryan always does that, he talks about people like Spencer knows who they are. For the second time in as many hours, Spencer is comforted by the fact that, you know, maybe he’s been apart from his mom or Ryan or whoever, but they’re still mostly the same.
Not that he thought he’d come home to strangers. But still. It’s nice.
Spencer’s gone quiet, but Ryan’s busy talking to someone else directly into Spencer’s ear. “Hey Jon,” Ryan says, “is the thing at Victoria’s or Gabe’s?”
Jon is another one of those people that Ryan often refers to like Spencer knows him. He doesn’t. Not really. Okay, he knows that he’s Ryan’s friend from Chicago, but he’s never actually met him. Sometimes even Spencer forgets that.
“So Victoria and Gabe actually live together. Which I think I knew at one point? Anyway, I was right. The thing is at their place. You’re coming, right?"
Spencer smiles because Ryan is an idiot, but he says, “Yeah, sure.”
“Or you could come down now? I can get you in for free. I know a guy.”
Spencer hems and haws a little, indecisive, but Ryan breaks into it, “Do you have big plans today? Can't come see your best friend after eight months?”
“It hasn't been eight months. I saw you at Christmas. And Spring Break. And I talk to you more than I talk to my family.”
Ryan always laughs when Spencer pouts. It's not really fair because Ryan pouts a lot and Spencer rarely laughs at him. Or he only laughs at him like half the time. “That wasn't actually the point, Spence. Didn't you miss me?”
Missing is putting it mildly. He doesn’t say it though, he just asks, “Bored, huh?”
“Abysmally,” Ryan says, “So I'll see you in a bit then.” It's not a question. “Brendon's coming down this afternoon sometime, too, I think. He needs a fourth job. Or a third. No, pretty sure it's a fourth.”
If Spencer doesn’t interrupt, this could go on for a while. “Bye, Ryan.”
“Oh yeah. Okay, Bye.”
--
Ryan meets him at the gate. And he doesn’t know a guy, but he knows a girl. A very bored girl with her chin in her hand and her elbow on the little opening where people pass their money through for tickets.
Ryan holds up his hand to wave at her, and to anyone else it would appear awkward, but to Spencer Ryan just looks relaxed, much more at ease than he used to look. It makes Ryan seem exactly the same and entirely different all at once.
The girl blows her bangs out of her eyes and waves them in. Spencer pushes at Ryan’s shoulder blade when he follows him through the turnstile and Ryan stops walking because he's just that annoying and wow, wow, he really did miss Ryan. Which he knew, but still. Wow.
Ryan says, “Oh, that was Victoria. I probably should’ve introduced you.”
“Probably,” Spencer says.
Ryan changes the subject. “Brendon’s here. Meeting with Patrick.”
“Oh," Spencer answers. He, of course, has no idea who Patrick is.
“So like, we’ll find them and then I have to get back to the bumper cars. Eventually.”
“You’re what? Operating the bumper cars? That’s your job?” That sounds like really bad planning, Spencer decides. Or well, they have bumpers, what’s the worst that could happen?
Ryan rubs at his nose, “Well yeah, today. It’s slightly better than food service, slightly worse than, like shilling quarters at the arcade.” Ryan shrugs. “Patrick has this theory about cross-training. How if everyone’s trained at everything, there are no gaps when people quit or don’t show up. I think the turn-over rate here is kind of high.”
Spencer mostly listens to Ryan, but a lot of his attention is focused on looking around. The park looks exactly the same as it did when he and Ryan were kids. Enough that it makes him strangely nostalgic for funnel cake and laser tag and that one time he made Ryan laugh so hard he threw up in line before they even got on the roller coaster.
The place looks aged, sure, but Spencer remembers that the park had looked run down back when they were ten and eleven. And there are small changes here and there, but nothing major, nothing like Disneyland sized overhauls.
Ryan steers him left by nudging him with an elbow. Spencer had forgotten how he was prone to doing that.
There's a cluster of people hanging out under a tree. It's a scrubby half dead thing, but Spencer knows all about taking shade where you can get it.
They get closer and of the six or seven people, he only recognizes Brendon. Brendon hugs Spencer first and Ryan second. He claims it’s because he’s seen Ryan more than Spencer, but whatever, Spencer will take it.
It’s also Brendon who makes the introductions even though presumably he’s just met these people.
There’s a Greta and a Bob and a few other names that Spencer isn’t sure he’ll remember later, even if he tries. Brendon gets to Jon and he’s pretty sure he’ll remember him, if for nothing other than Ryan’s sake.
Jon’s short. Short enough that he has to cuff his jeans over his flip flops. And he’s wearing sun glasses against the glare of the sun even though no one else is. He holds up his hand when Brendon introduces him. The gesture reminds Spencer of Ryan. They must spend a lot of time together.
While Spencer’s busy processing whether or not the feeling he's feeling is jealousy, an even shorter guy comes up behind Jon and throws an arm over his shoulder.
Jon picks up the introductions and points at the guy. He says, “This is Pete.” Jon grins with half his mouth when he says it, and Spencer’s still looking at Jon when he says hello to Pete. When Spencer does look at Pete, Pete's grin is all teeth and it’s more than easy to smile back at him.
“And this,” Pete says, “is Patrick.”
Spencer didn’t even notice the addition, but Patrick seems distracted enough by Pete not to notice Spencer not noticing. Patrick keeps batting Pete’s hand away from the general area of his ear.
Patrick dodges Pete again and Spencer has just enough time to think, huh, this is a weird way to meet someone, before Greta says, "Geez, Patrick, just let him do it, this is painful to watch."
Patrick shoots Greta a look, but he sighs and stops bobbing and weaving so Pete can do...whatever it is he's going to do. Spencer barks out a sharp, awkward laugh when he sees Pete pull a quarter from behind Patrick's ear. Patrick holds out his hand for the quarter and rolls his eyes and Spencer gets the feeling this whole exchange happens a lot. Like daily. Maybe more.
Pete makes like he's going to drop it in Patrick's hand, but pulls back at the last second to flip it through his knuckles like a poker chip a few times before he makes it disappear through basic sleight of hand.
Patrick shoves his hands in his pockets and after he stops looking at Pete, he looks at Brendon. "I see you met Pete. Pete pretends to fix things."
Brendon nods. "I met Pete," he manages through a laugh.
"Pete also does magic," Pete says.
"Pete pretends to do magic," Patrick says.
"He's slightly better at fixing things," Greta interrupts. "Speaking of which, the tilt-a-whirl is making a really troubling noise."
Pete makes a noise with his teeth and his tongue. "Top of the list, Grets," he says, but he doesn't move.
"What do I even pay you people for," Patrick says. He turns his gaze from Pete to Jon and adds, "That's like four dress code violations, Walker."
Jon looks at his feet. "Yeah, sorry." He takes off his sunglasses to fold them into the neck of his shirt and squints apologetically at Patrick.
"Just. You know, don't sue if you step on a rusty nail or something." Patrick sounds like he's given up on forcing Jon to wear actual shoes.
When Pete laughs, it is somehow simultaneously grating and compelling. “Like this whole place isn’t one big lawsuit waiting to happen,” he says.
Spencer watches the way Patrick looks at Pete. He’s obviously irritated, but he also looks kind of hurt by what Pete said.
“Tilt-a-whirl,” Pete says, “I’m gonna see about the tilt-a-whirl.” He rubs his hand over Patrick’s shoulder and says, “Sorry,” quietly, as though it’s meant for only Patrick to hear, but they’re all too close or Pete’s not used to speaking quite so low and it doesn’t really work out.
Patrick shrugs Pete off and watches him go. Their little group breaks up after that and people wander back to their jobs until only Brendon, Ryan, Patrick and Spencer are left.
After a half-second Patrick looks at Spencer and says, “Spencer, right?” He holds out his hand and Spencer shakes it.
"Hi," Spencer says.
"Hey," Patrick says, quickly, like his attention is split between what he’s currently doing and what he could be doing. "You look respectable. Want a job?"
"Uh." Spencer doesn't really know how to answer that.
"The pay's low and the hours are crap," Patrick says, "but a job's a job and your boss is pretty great."
Spencer still doesn't answer, but he's considering. He could use the money and he definitely needs something to do all day.
"The boss would be me. In case that wasn't clear."
"Um, okay?" Spencer says, and that, as they say, is that.
--
After a hasty tour from Patrick, Spencer and Brendon walk out together. When they get to the gate Brendon starts unlocking his bike.
"Hey, you need a ride?" Spencer asks. He flips his keys and watches Brendon deliberate. Air conditioning must win out.
"Yeah, yeah. That'd be great. Thanks." Brendon says thanks like there's no a, just a bunch of blurred consonants. It's the same way he's always said it. Spencer is going to have to stop being so nostalgic about every last insignificant thing. He is not a nostalgic guy.
It takes some doing, but they manage to get Brendon's bike in the trunk and close the hood. Neither of them make a packing it in joke, so maybe they're growing up or something. Or maybe they've hit that point where they don't need to actually say it out loud because Brendon waggles his eyebrows and Spencer laughs and yeah, that's probably it.
"Hey, so you're employed!" Brendon says once they're in the car and Spencer's turned up the AC to full blast. "I can't believe I had, like, an interview and a resume and everything and then Patrick just looked at you and hired you."
"It's a burden, my honest face," Spencer says, nodding solemnly.
"And my face isn't honest?"
Spencer looks at Brendon. "Sucks to be you."
Brendon slumps lower in his seat and pouts for about three seconds before he sits up and starts talking again. "So, Jon," Brendon says, and oh God, Spencer was totally obvious with staring, wasn't he? Brendon is going to give him so much shit. But all he says is, "You finally met him. He's a nice guy."
Spencer concentrates on the left he has to make. "He seemed it. Have you? Met him before?"
"Yeah, he visited one weekend with Ryan. You were at school. He's a nice guy."
"You said that already," Spencer says.
"Did I?" Brendon asks innocently. "Patrick seems like a good guy, too. That Pete guy sure seems to like him."
"Dude. Right?"
"It almost made me sad for him. It did make me sad for him." Brendon holds his hand over his chest. "Like it's never gonna happen."
"I wouldn't say that," Spencer says, cutting over to the right lane so he can turn into Brendon's old neighborhood. Current neighborhood. Whatever.
"Wait," says Brendon, clearly disbelieving. "You saw the. With the." Brendon waves his hands around and goes for Spencer's ear like Pete did with Patrick.
Spencer twitches away and laughs. He says, "Yeah, I saw it. He-" Spencer cuts himself off, because his explanation is going to sound really fucking stupid. And also trite. And also stupid. "Ten bucks says they hook up before the end of the summer."
Brendon squints at him. "What do you know that I don't know?"
"Doesn't matter. Ten bucks, you in or not?"
Brendon's still eying him suspiciously.
Spencer pulls up to the curb. "Oh look, we're here. In or out."
Brendon gets out and leans into the window while Spencer's popping the trunk. "In." He holds out a hand to shake on it, and seriously, Brendon really is the honest one.
"So you're going to the thing later?" Spencer asks while Brendon's still angled toward the car.
"Yeah," Brendon says, "I might stop by after work if I can swing it."
"You're still at the Smoothie Hut, right? I'll pick you up?" Brendon starts to protest, but Spencer talks over him. "Come on man, don't make me go by myself." Spencer is twelve. He doesn't even care.
"You know Ryan," Brendon says, "and Jon." He throws in a suggestively arched eyebrow at that. Brendon is apparently giving him shit. Subtle shit. How novel. Spencer rolls his eyes. Brendon laughs and raps his knuckles on the car door. He says "I should be done at 8:30. See you later."
--
Ryan and Jon are sitting on the floor in front of the record player when Spencer and Brendon walk into Gabe and Victoria's. It takes him a while to notice (long enough to get a beer and claim some space on a free couch) that they keep playing the same song over and over again. They haven’t moved and they’re talking in hushed tones, heads bent together. Every time the song ends, one of them reaches over and lifts the needle and sets it back at the beginning, usually, but not always, with minimal scratchy sounds.
Spencer tries not to keep looking over, tries to pay attention to Brendon’s story about his Smoothie Hut job, but he can’t help it. Maybe if Jon wasn’t playing with Ryan’s shoe laces it would be easier to ignore them.
“Walker’s got weird mating habits,” Spencer says, interrupting Brendon.
“Yeah he does,” Brendon agrees. But when he looks over at Jon and Ryan, he laughs and says, “Oh man, that is not Jon Walker mating.”
Spencer looks at Brendon, then looks at where Jon now has Ryan’s entire shoed foot in his lap. “Well, I mean obviously he’s not mating mating,” Brendon goes on. “But he’s not like. Jon’s not interested in Ryan.” Brendon’s laugh is getting a little high pitched.
Spencer looks over again and Jon is looking at him. “Oh,” Spencer says to Brendon.
--
After Victoria has threatened their lives if they play that song one more fucking time, seriously boys, Ryan pulls Jon over to the couch and they both push Spencer over a little so all four of them can fit. Tightly, but nicely, Brendon calls it.
“Spencer. Spence,” Jon says, “which do you prefer?”
Spencer shrugs, “Either works for me.” He has to elbow Brendon so he doesn’t helpfully suggest Spenny, because no. No.
“Spence,” Jon says again. “You're lucky we’re sharing a couch, because I am going to take this opportunity to tell you all the best dirt about all the best Funworld employees.” Jon is maybe a little drunk.
Spencer settles back into the couch, or more like shifts very minutely into the back of the couch, in an unsuccessful attempt to sprawl. “Hit me,” he says.
“See that guy?” Jon asks. He points and his finger follows a short guy with long curly hair heading outside for a cigarette. “That guy is Joe, and Joe has all the best weed.”
“Okay,” Spencer says. “Good to know. What else?”
“What else?” Jon asks.
“Yeah, what else?”
Ryan leans over Jon to say, “That’s all he’s got.”
Jon smiles sheepishly and shrugs. “It’s true. But you’ve gotta admit, that’s pretty good.”
Spencer laughs. Jon leans back so his shoulder presses comfortably into Spencer’s. Brendon starts telling Jon and Ryan about Spencer’s super secret insight into the Pete-Patrick conundrum and Ryan knocks Spencer lightly in the temple over Jon’s head.
Spencer is really glad he came.
--
Spencer's first shift at Funworld involves manning one of the refreshment stands. Specifically, the cotton candy stand.
Spencer has nothing against cotton candy. He's not into it as like a snack, because frankly, that's a lot of sugar, but he doesn't wish it ill or anything. Or he doesn't until after he's been standing there for about 30 minutes and he's mid-spin on his fifth cone. Turns out sugar flying around at an accelerated rate hurts like fuck. Turns out he's sticky all the way up his arm. Turns out he can't hand over a cone of the stuff without getting his other hand sticky as well, despite the latex gloves.
And all of this would be fine, or at the very least manageable, if it weren't pushing 104 degrees in the shade.
Spun sugar is the devil, Spencer is sure.
After that, things get a little quiet. Quiet enough that Spencer can really concentrate on how uncomfortably sticky his arm is, nearly up to his armpit, and god only knows how that even happened.
During the lull, Spencer glances over to where Brendon is dipping churros in cinnamon and a little further off where Jon is handing out ice cream bars like they're going out of style.
Ice cream, now that's a treat Spencer can get behind. Churros too, only maybe not so much in the middle of summer.
Jon glances up while Spencer's looking his way and Spencer panics and shifts his line of sight over to the bumper cars. He's so dumb. He glances back at Jon and Jon's on his tiptoes holding his hand up to wave at him over the heads of a couple of super tall ice cream patrons. Spencer smiles at Jon and laughs at himself.
It's not until an hour later that Jon jogs over to say hello. Or rather, what he says is, "Switch with me," with no preamble or greeting.
"What?" Spencer asks intelligently.
"Switch with me. Hurry because the natives are getting restless." Jon shoots a look over his shoulder to his recently vacated booth where there's already a short line forming in his absence.
"You. You couldn't possibly want cotton candy. Nobody wants cotton candy." It's true. Spencer only got stuck with it because he's the new guy. Newest guy.
"Well," Jon says, "you don't want it either," like that's a reasonable explanation. "C'mon. Before I change my mind or things get violent at ice cream stand number 2."
Spencer’s still not moving. What he’s doing is trying to figure Jon out. It’s not until Jon comes around to his side of the stand and starts nudging him in the direction of the ice cream that Spencer decides that now may not be the best time to do that. “Your sour face is hurting my soul, Spence. You’re doing me a favor, really.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” he tells Jon, because yeah, ice cream, he’s on board. And just for the record, his face is not sour.
He starts shucking his pink-tinged gloves on the way, because the ice cream is pre-wrapped.
The rest of his shift goes pretty slow, but it is also considerably less sticky. And he gets to laugh at Jon’s complete inability to wrap the cotton candy around the paper cone in a way that isn’t anything other than messy. He’d almost feel guilty, but Jon smiles and charms his way out of any customer complaints. Also, every time someone walks up to buy something from him, Spencer is treated to a cool blast from the freezer and, as selfish as it makes him, he can’t bring himself to give that up and offer to switch back.
--
Spencer and Jon get off their shifts at the same time. Joe comes to relieve him at the ice cream stand and Ryan’s due to relieve at the cotton candy stand, but he’s five minutes late. Because he’s Ryan.
Spencer waits around with Jon for Ryan to show up. At first he’s just going to stop by on his way out to say thanks (he forgot to in the face of his absolute joy, which he thinks is understandable), but then Jon starts telling him this story about Pete and Gabe and this bottle of water that wasn’t really a bottle of water. Spencer just can’t walk away from that. By the time Ryan wanders up, Spencer’s laughing and Jon’s smiling and Spencer still hasn’t said thank you.
Ryan looks like he just rolled out of bed, but he pushes his hair out of his eyes and lobs his car keys at Jon. “Um,” he says, “You should probably get gas soon. I’m not sure how long the lights been on, but I think it’s been a while.”
Spencer has this evil moment where he’d be willing to sacrifice the rest of his afternoon just to watch a hung-over, sleep-deprived Ryan wrangle with the cotton candy machine. He’s gotta be bad at it on a good day.
Jon tugs at the sleeve of his shirt and says, “Freedom, Spence. Freedom. Let’s get out of here.”
Spencer waves goodbye to Ryan and Ryan blinks at him. Brendon still has a couple hours left at the churro stand. He waves dejectedly at them as they pass on their way to the employee lounge. Jon pouts pitifully at him and Brendon pouts back. Spencer's friends are idiots.
After he throws away his gloves and grabs his backpack, Jon bite-licks what must be cotton candy remnants off the inside of his wrist. “Sweet,” he says.
Spencer bets.
What he tells Jon, though, is, “See you tomorrow.”
--
They go out to the desert one night, Brendon and Jon and Ryan and Greta and Nate and, well almost everyone. Even Patrick shows up.
There's a fire and it feels like this is what kids on tv shows do in beach towns, only minus the ocean and the indie soundtrack and the jock beating up the geeky kid.
Spencer walks away from the heat of the fire and winds up sitting on the hood of Ryan's car, watching the fire and the way Ryan ducks in close to hear Greta and the easy way Alex rubs at Ryland's shoulders.
Jon shuffles up after a bit and hands Spencer a s’more. "The marshmallows were running out," he says.
Spencer takes it and bites it and says, "Oh my god, thank you."
Jon doesn't sit, but he leans against the hood. "Can I?" He asks.
"Dude, you made me a s’more. You can sit wherever you want."
Spencer only knows Jon is smiling because he can see a quick gleam of his teeth. He sits and says, "Actually, Brendon made you a s’more. I did bring it to you though, that's gotta count for something."
There's a lull in the conversation, but it's not an uncomfortable one. Spencer can't say much around the marshmallow anyway. Even though he isn't looking directly at Jon, Spencer can see him curl forward and rest his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand. He looks where Spencer looked, out towards the fire, and he curls and uncurls his toes over the soles of his flip flops. Pete's doing a handstand with his legs curled back and Brendon's dusting his hands off on his pants like he's gearing up to join him. Someone is going to die in a fire. Patrick must think so, too; he jams his hat down on his head and walks away.
"No seriously, what makes you think Pete has a chance?"
Spencer tries to say, "I'll never tell," but he has the last bite of s'more in his mouth and it comes out pretty garbled.
Pete looks like he's wobbling and Greta pulls at his ankle so he'll fall toward her not the fire.
After Spencer has licked his fingers clean, Jon says, "Hey, what are you going to school for? Ryan never said." It's the phrasing that trips Spencer up. Like there's the obvious answer: to get an education, a degree, figure out what he wants to do with his life and then proceed to do it, hopefully in such a way that he makes a decent living. There's the other obvious answer: because he's supposed to. And yes, Spencer is aware that Jon was not asking why in the larger sense. The problem is, he doesn't have a very good answer for the smaller sense of the question either.
"Um," Spencer rubs his palms on his jeans a couple of times. "I'm basically just getting the general stuff out of the way. I haven't declared a major yet or anything."
Jon nods, chin still resting on his hand. "Yeah. I never declared a major either."
"I thought. Didn't Ryan meet you in an art history class? I thought he said something about photography. Maybe." Maybe it's weird that Spencer remembers. Jon doesn't seem to mind though.
"Yeah, yeah. I was thinking about fine arts, definitely. But, I mean, it's not like you need a degree to take pictures, you know? Not that it hurts, but. I'm just gonna..." Jon points to the passenger door and hops off the hood to go rummage in the front seat. He comes back with a half empty pack of American Spirits and digs a lighter out of his pocket before he sits down again. Spencer watches him fish out a cigarette then offer him the pack. Spencer doesn't smoke all that often, but it's a nice night for it.
"No, yeah," Spencer says, picking up the thread of conversation. He doesn't really know where to go from there and he lets the thread drop again.
“I have this friend, back in Chicago,” Jon says.
Spencer interrupts, “There are people left in Chicago?”
Jon laughs because Spencer is funny and seriously, like 85% of the people Spencer can see are from Chicago. Or like 60% at least. “One or two,” Jon says. “So. This friend. We’ll call him Tom, because that’s his name. Tom has this band. And I was going to classes and I didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t. Like you know how Ryan knows he wants to write and knows he can write and he’s got that. He knows what he’s working towards. Which is great, but I didn’t have that. So my friend-”
“Tom, yeah,” Spencer interjects.
“Tom. Tom calls me up,” Jon pauses. “Wait, I need to back up. Tom and me were in this other band before Tom’s other band. Which. Dude, I tell the worst stories when I’m drunk. I’m going somewhere with this, I promise.”
Spencer smiles at him, because he just can’t help himself. “I’m following, you’re good.”
There’s a breath of a laugh and Jon takes a slow drag before he goes on. “Tommy called me up and told me they were going on tour, and he asks me if I want to come along as a guitar tech. And I didn’t even- I like barely thought about it before I said yes.”
Spencer can totally see the appeal of the situation. Only if he was in Jon’s shoes, he’s pretty sure he never would have entertained the notion of dropping everything. It’s sort of crazy to think about, really.
"So I teched and I shot some stuff for them and it was great," Jon says, "It was really great. But then the tour ended and I came home. That was a while ago and I haven't gone back. To school I mean. I don't know if I will." There's a pause where Jon takes another drag. "Maybe I will."
"You're not ruling it out," Spencer says.
"I'm not ruling it out. Basically, I don't want to rule anything out." Jon drums his fingers on the hood and laughs with his head down, like maybe he's laughing at himself. Spencer can't really tell. "You're what, nineteen?"
Spencer wrinkles his nose. "Uh, in a couple months that'll be right."
Jon doesn't comment, but Spencer can see him mentally adjusting. "The thing that I'm like failing to say here is that you'll figure it out," Jon says. "And I will too. Probably." There's a beat. "The probably is for me."
"Shut up, you'll be fine." Spencer looks down at his lap and says, "And yeah, I know I will be too. I'm just, uh, not used to not having shit figured out I guess."
"Then this is good for you," Jon says and he sounds kind of like he's mocking Spencer and kind of like he's not. Mostly he sounds friendly. "You can see how the rest of us feel all the time."
Spencer laughs and Jon bumps his shoulder. "The band I was in? Pete and Patrick opened for us one time."
"Seriously?" Spencer asks. He tries, but he really can't picture it. Like at all.
"Joe too, and this other guy Andy. I'm totally big time." Jon pulls at his ear like he's scratching it. There's enough light thrown from the fire that Spencer can just see the curve of his mouth when he smiles.
"Sure you are," Spencer grins, "it's a wonder you're even talking to me."
"I was just thinking the same thing," Jon says.
"We had a band once, me and Ryan and Brendon," Spencer nods towards where the two of them are sitting close to the fire.
"Yeah, Ryan said. What happened with that?"
"The same thing that usually happens I guess. Ryan went to college and, I don't know, practice became fucking around mostly. We were never any good anyway," Spencer says dismissively even though it's not true. They were good. Or they could have been, given enough time. It's just easier to say they weren't than to say they could have been.
"That is definitely not what I heard," Jon says.
"Well, Brendon's an awesome musician. He can play anything. Seriously, anything. And, like, well." Spencer glances over at Brendon again. He can't see much but it looks like he could be singing. Which is, you know, typical of Brendon at any particular time of day. Maybe, if they do this again, Spencer will make him bring his guitar.
"Ryan said that, too," Jon says. Spencer feels kind of shitty at his surprise, but he is indeed surprised. Their band didn't bring out the best in either of their personalities, even if it brought out the best of their abilities. "He said you were pretty amazing, too."
Spencer shrugs, "I didn't suck," he says, "but he is my best friend. Consider the source is all I'm saying."
"Hmm," Jon says. "I guess the only way to settle this is you play for me and let me judge for myself."
Spencer can't argue with that, so he doesn't even try. He says, "Sure," through a smile, "I can do that."
After a while Jon goes to fetch them some beer. And later Spencer does. It's probably rude, but neither of them stray all that far from the car.
--
The rest of the week goes by in much the same way. Spencer spends most of the day working. He learns how to operate most of the rides, the games, the cash registers. It’s not so bad, except for the heat and the slow hours without many guests, and the heat, did he mention the heat? At least the company is usually pretty good. Spencer likes his co-workers.
The park closes before the sun sets, running the lights is too expensive and Spencer doesn't know for sure, but he can't imagine that an aging, off the strip amusement park brings in a whole lot of money. So the park closes and there’s always a place to go after work. Some house party in some grassless back yard with coolers full of beer and haphazardly strung Christmas lights.
And it's always the same sort of night. Always the same, but not boring yet. Greta's laugh always carries further than anyone else's. Gabe and Pete always seem to have some sort of unspoken competition over who can be loudest, drunkest, most obnoxious. Victoria seemed distant at first, gorgeous and aloof, but she's not. Well, she's gorgeous, Spencer's not blind, but she's the furthest thing from aloof. She curls an easy arm around whoever she'd like, Ryan or Ryland or whoever sits close, and says funny things, secret things, under her breath. Mostly she talks shit about Gabe. But nice shit.
And Jon will find Spencer or Spencer will find Jon and maybe Brendon and Ryan will join them and maybe they won’t, but the Jon part is pretty consistent.
Jon tells him about his cats and about how he worked at Starbucks for a while. Spencer tells him about California, about how it wasn't bad, but how he kept waiting for it to get really good, the way everyone always said college would be. He’s sort of still waiting for that.
It’s all pretty easy, the way they fall into hanging out and talking and sharing a cigarette or three over a couple of bottles of beer. And maybe when Spencer looks at Jon, he doesn’t look away like he would with anyone else. But maybe Jon looks at him just as long so it doesn’t really matter. And maybe at work the next day they're all a little worse for the wear, all a little hungover and cranky, but it doesn't stop them from doing it the next night. Or it hasn't yet.
--
The park opens at nine and Spencer's shift starts at 8:30. Which, okay, it's not like it's that early, but he's been out every night since Thursday, which is nearly a week, and he's starting to miss sleep. Miss it as in long for it, pine for it, need it desperately.
Jon's shoving a backpack into a locker when Spencer walks in. Spencer only has keys and his wallet and a cup of coffee, all of which he'd like to keep on him for the duration, so he's not even sure why he hit the employee lounge anyway. He guesses it's just easier to settle into habits than to remember that he doesn't need to stow anything away.
He leans against the lockers and kicks at Jon's ankle. Jon blinks at him. Maybe Jon's missing out on a good night's sleep too.
"Where are you today?" Spencer asks.
Jon looks at something written on the inside of his palm. "Souvenir shop," he says blandly, "till one."
And even though it's obviously his shift information, Spencer kind of wants to turn Jon's hand over and see what he's written.
Spencer looks up and Jon is looking back expectantly. "Ring toss," he says, hoping Jon asked him about his shift.
Jon nods and chews on the corner of his lip. "Other side of the park," he says.
"Yeah." Spencer hadn't really thought about it, but now that Jon's brought it up he's surprisingly bummed out by the prospect of Jon not being within shouting distance. Or waving distance. Or whatever.
Probably he's just tired.
Jon's talking again, asking him what he's doing later. Later, Spencer is sleeping. Later, if he can muster the energy, he is sitting on his parents couch and watching a movie. Later, he is not consuming any alcohol or illegal substances or answering his phone.
He maybe says all this out loud. Jon looks...stricken. Maybe Spencer should tone it down a little.
"Sorry," he mumbles, "I think I'm just really tired."
Jon nods. "I get that.” he says. “Anyway, see you around or you know," Jon trails off and looks at Spencer for a minute. His mouth is turned down and Spencer wants to apologize again. He wasn't. It wasn't directed at Jon. He doesn't get a chance because Jon's already walking away.
Spencer’s morning keeps getting better and better.
--
Brendon hops into Spencer's booth, sliding over the worn wood on his rear end rather than opening the gate. Spencer ignores him to hand an orange stuffed octopus to the teenager who foiled the rigged ring toss and won.
The guy says, "Great. Awesome. Thanks." He sounds every bit as bored as Spencer feels and he holds the octopus light in his fingers as he walks away.
Brendon smiles bright at the back of his head and says, overly loud and overly cheerful, "Have a fun filled day at Funworld!"
Spencer grins despite himself.
Spencer rearranges the other aquatic stuffed animals while Brendon hops on the counter again, this time to sit and swing his legs so his feet hit the old wood at annoying, purposely off-beat intervals.
"So, date night tonight?" Brendon asks and Spencer turns to look at him with a small pile of turquoise turtles in his hands, because what?
"Gotta say, I admire Jon's ability to forgo societal norms. First date on a Wednesday, the kid's got moxy."
Spencer is about three seconds from throwing the turtles at Brendon's head one after another. It might even hurt a little if he threw them hard enough. If he does that, though, the likelihood that Brendon will still be inclined to explain what the fuck he's talking about will decrease considerably.
"You look confused," Brendon says slowly. Then quickly, "Oh shit, he didn't ask yet. Um. Pretend I didn't say anything?"
"What," Spencer enunciates carefully, "are you talking about?" There's a horrible swooping sensation in his stomach.
"When Jon asks you out? Just pretend I didn't say anything. Please?"
The swooping speeds up. It’s kind of nauseating. "Oh shit," Spencer says. "I think I turned him down."
Brendon slides off the ledge to stand and now it's his turn to say, "What? Why? It's so obvious you like him.” Brendon punctuates the statement with a self-satisfied ‘heh’ sound. “Like so obvious."
"Shut up."
"I'm just saying."
"Well stop saying and tell me how to fix it."
Brendon puts his hands on Spencer’s shoulders in what he probably thinks is a calming manner, mostly it just makes Spencer kind of twitchy and irritated. "Okay, okay. This is Jon we're talking about. This is definitely a fixable situation. Absolutely."
"Not helping!" Spencer says impatiently.
"I know!" Brendon says, equally on edge. After a second he visibly calms down and asks, "What happened?"
Spencer tells him in clipped, short sentences. He closes the sad tale with, "I don't know, I thought. I thought it was just another party, you know? I didn't get why he looked so disappointed."
Brendon smiles a little, like he's indulging Spencer and Spencer thinks again how satisfying it would be to throw shit at his head.
"Well step one is to stop glaring at me," Brendon says. "And step two is to tell him you changed your mind. And step three, if need be, is for someone to explain to both of you how asking someone out works. Like seriously, he could have at least hinted at the date aspect of the evening. It’s a wonder either of you ever get laid."
Spencer can barely hear the last part of Brendon's tirade because he's already walking away to find Jon.
"Sure, I'll cover the booth for you Spence, no problem," Brendon yells to him.
Spencer waves a hand in the air as a thank you but mostly he's jogging towards the other end of the park.
"Hey! Spencer!" Brendon yells again. Spencer turns around, but keeps walking backwards. "If all else fails just smile at him. Jon gets kinda stupid when you smile."
Spencer is actually going to kill Brendon. Just as soon as he stops grinning.
--
Jon isn't at the souvenir shop. At least he's not at either of the cash registers.
Nate notices Spencer looking around and jerks his head toward the back. There's a stupid smile on his face and Spencer hates everybody, seriously.
Jon's unpacking a couple of boxes, stuff that nobody in their right mind would ever need or want. Cheap snow globes with carousels in them and ugly red t-shirts with the Funworld logo across the chest.
When Spencer says hey, Jon looks up. It's not so bad that he doesn't grin his half-smile at Spencer and maybe Brendon had it wrong. Maybe Spencer's an idiot. In for a dollar, in for a pound.
"About tonight," Spencer starts, kind of slowly, kind of haltingly. "Brendon said that you said." And oh, the smile is disappearing now. Spencer stops talking.
"It's okay," Jon says. "It. Like it's no big deal if you don't want to hang out. Really. It's fine." Jon won't meet his eyes. It's almost adorable how he's looking at the space just to the left of Spencer’s head.
"I didn't know it was a date," Spencer says.
"It wasn't-"
Spencer talks over Jon cause at the rate they're going it'll be winter before they make a decision here. "If I had known, I would've said yes."
"Seriously, Spence, we don't have to- Wait. What?"
"If I had known you were asking me out," Spencer says, "I would have said yes."
"Oh," Jon says. He smiles for real, finally. His eyes crinkle up and everything. "I was asking you out."
"Yeah."
"On a date," Jon clarifies.
Spencer laughs. "I get that now. You kind of suck at it."
One corner of Jon’s mouth turns up and he says, “Kind of.” They wind up grinning at each other like idiots for a couple of seconds. “So,” Jon pauses. He looks mostly happy, but still a little reserved. He spins a snow globe in his hand, upside down and the glitter in it catches the light. “Is it still a yes?”
“Uhuh, definitely still a yes,” Spencer says.
"So, I'll pick you up at eight?" Jon asks.
"You could pick me up at eight, if you had a car."
"Technically," Jon says, "I do have a car. It's just in Chicago."
"Or I could pick you up at eight," Spencer offers, because he is helpful.
"It would probably save time," Jon agrees. "If I had to pick up my car first, I might be late."
"Can't have that," Spencer says. He has no idea what he's saying. He thinks he might be trying to flirt. It's pretty awful. "I should go," he says, before Jon changes his mind about the date business, "I sort of left Brendon at the ring toss against his will."
Jon nods. "Alright. See you later?"
"At eight," Spencer says and promptly backs into the doorjamb.
Jon is a really nice guy and doesn't laugh at him.
--
When Spencer gets back to the ring toss booth, Brendon asks, "How'd it go?"
Spencer answers by hugging Brendon. "You're the best," he says.
Brendon laughs in his ear and hugs him back.
part two