Coda to No Circumstances Could Excuse | Spencer/Brendon | R | ~ 1100 words | AU
Coda to No Circumstances Could Excuse (read that one first)
Spencer/Brendon | R (for disturbing content) | ~ 1100 words | AU
This started out as comment fic. The same warnings apply to this as to the first one. (Well, not exactly the same warnings, but definitely still the stuff about it being fucked up and squicky.)
Some number of years previous.
Spencer's sitting at the bar of the cafe, holding his cup of coffee but not actually drinking from it. He should be leaving soon; it'll cause trouble later if anyone remembers seeing him here.
Brendon -- though Spencer didn't know that his name was Brendon yet-- Brendon is sitting with a backpack tucked under his chair. He's been sipping the same cup of coffee for the last half an hour, and his backpack looks full and soft, like it's stuffed with clothes. Spencer's good at telling what kind of people aren't going to be missed.
He gets up and walks past Brendon on the way to the door. As he makes his way past Brendon's table Brendon looks up, tilts his head up and smiles at Spencer, and instead of continuing walking past him, Spencer stops and says, "Hey."
They don't really talk much. Spencer asks if Brendon's staying to hear the live show. The cafe does an open mic thing in the late afternoon; Spencer happens to notice the flier up on the wall.
Brendon shrugs and says, "I might wait and see how it goes," and then Spencer keeps walking.
--
//
--
Spencer walks past the cafe a few days later, and Brendon's there again, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and no food, his backpack under his chair. He's tapping his fingers on the table, but not just idly drumming a beat. He's using all of his fingers and even his thumb, like he's miming playing the piano, pressing chords onto the table. He looks content even though his clothes are rumpled and dirty, even though he clearly hasn't been eating much lately, even though he's sitting by himself in a crowded cafe. Spencer can't remember the last time he felt content during the course of his daily life.
Spencer could go inside or he could wait outside or whatever, anything would be better than standing at the window. In the end, he goes back inside.
He doesn't know if he wants Brendon to notice him or not. He stands in line, looks at the rows of sandwiches. Sandwiches in cafes are more expensive; Brendon would be better off hanging around a diner or something.
Spencer thinks he could offer to buy Brendon dinner, and Brendon would probably come with him. Brendon likely doesn't know the city; he obviously hasn't settled in. He wouldn't know where Spencer was taking him.
Spencer orders a latte to go and, when Brendon smiles again as he's walking on the door, Spencer lifts his hand in greeting and continues on. It's a decent plan: offering to buy Brendon dinner. Spencer doesn't know why he doesn't follow through on it. He doesn't regret it, though, even when he gets home.
--
\\
--
Spencer never goes to the same place over and over again -- it's too risky that way and Spencer does what he can to minimize risk of getting caught. He doesn't go to the same place over and over again, he doesn't take all of the bodies to the same spot, he doesn't have a driver's license and his last known address isn't somewhere he ever actually lived -- but he comes back to the cafe again for some reason and lingers outside.
Brendon doesn't have his backpack this time. That means that he's found somewhere to say, it means that he's starting to settle in, it means he probably knows people here, now. No one who has seen him and Spencer together, though. Not yet.
Spencer looks at the sidewalk, looks through the window. He holds up his wrist and pretends to be considering the time as he watches Brendon through the glass. He shouldn't go inside. He recognizes the girl who's working the counter; it would be too risky to show his face around there again.
He opens the door, anyway, walking inside the cafe and making his way toward the line.
He's almost at the end of the line when he pauses, then doubles back. He stands in front of Brendon's table and Brendon looks up and smiles, and Spencer blurts out, "They've got shitty coffee here. Do you want to maybe go somewhere else?"
Brendon looks down in front of himself. His cup of coffee is still three-quarters full.
Spencer feels like an idiot. He makes himself take a breath instead of just fleeing the cafe.
Brendon nods, pushing out of his chair. "Yeah," he says. "Okay."
"Okay," Spencer echoes. He waits for Brendon to pull on his sweater; just a sweater, not a jacket, even though it's getting into the cold months of fall.
He holds the door open for Brendon, and everyone will be able to see them leaving together and maybe they'd remember his face and maybe they wouldn't and maybe Brendon's started to make friends here, maybe he'd be missed and maybe he wouldn't. Spencer doesn't like uncertainties. He should be careful, now, of who sees them together. Should be mindful.
"You just don't want to sit through the open mic performances," Brendon says, looking sideways at Spencer as they walk down the street.
"Is that today?" Spencer asks.
Brendon nods. "If I can find a guitar, I'm going to try one week, I think."
"Yeah?" Spencer asks. "Cool."
"So where did you want to go?" Brendon asks.
"Oh," Spencer says, looking around the street, trying to see if there are any coffee shops nearby. "I don't really--" He looks at Brendon and shrugs. "I don't really know what I'm doing here," he admits.
Brendon laughs, a happy sound, not like he's laughing at Spencer's awkwardness.
"I don't really need any more coffee, anyway," Brendon says. He leans in as they walk, letting his shoulder bump Spencer's.
Spencer doesn't usually like being touched, especially when he's not expecting it, especially when it's another person initiating the contact, but it's okay with Brendon. Brendon's body close beside Spencer's is okay. Spencer can't remember the last time someone was this close to him and it didn't make his skin crawl.
Brendon says, "Geeze, it's getting cold already." Says, "Did you see the hat that man was wearing?" Says, "Man, look at that woman's ugly dog." Brendon keeps up a steady stream of chatter, just noticing superficial things, not demanding any kind of real conversation from Spencer. Spencer likes the sound of his voice. He hopes that Brendon can find a guitar, because he'd like to hear him play sometime.
Spencer walks down the crowded sidewalk and doesn't worry about who might see them together.
Spencer/Brendon | R (for disturbing content) | ~ 1100 words | AU
This started out as comment fic. The same warnings apply to this as to the first one. (Well, not exactly the same warnings, but definitely still the stuff about it being fucked up and squicky.)
Some number of years previous.
Spencer's sitting at the bar of the cafe, holding his cup of coffee but not actually drinking from it. He should be leaving soon; it'll cause trouble later if anyone remembers seeing him here.
Brendon -- though Spencer didn't know that his name was Brendon yet-- Brendon is sitting with a backpack tucked under his chair. He's been sipping the same cup of coffee for the last half an hour, and his backpack looks full and soft, like it's stuffed with clothes. Spencer's good at telling what kind of people aren't going to be missed.
He gets up and walks past Brendon on the way to the door. As he makes his way past Brendon's table Brendon looks up, tilts his head up and smiles at Spencer, and instead of continuing walking past him, Spencer stops and says, "Hey."
They don't really talk much. Spencer asks if Brendon's staying to hear the live show. The cafe does an open mic thing in the late afternoon; Spencer happens to notice the flier up on the wall.
Brendon shrugs and says, "I might wait and see how it goes," and then Spencer keeps walking.
--
//
--
Spencer walks past the cafe a few days later, and Brendon's there again, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and no food, his backpack under his chair. He's tapping his fingers on the table, but not just idly drumming a beat. He's using all of his fingers and even his thumb, like he's miming playing the piano, pressing chords onto the table. He looks content even though his clothes are rumpled and dirty, even though he clearly hasn't been eating much lately, even though he's sitting by himself in a crowded cafe. Spencer can't remember the last time he felt content during the course of his daily life.
Spencer could go inside or he could wait outside or whatever, anything would be better than standing at the window. In the end, he goes back inside.
He doesn't know if he wants Brendon to notice him or not. He stands in line, looks at the rows of sandwiches. Sandwiches in cafes are more expensive; Brendon would be better off hanging around a diner or something.
Spencer thinks he could offer to buy Brendon dinner, and Brendon would probably come with him. Brendon likely doesn't know the city; he obviously hasn't settled in. He wouldn't know where Spencer was taking him.
Spencer orders a latte to go and, when Brendon smiles again as he's walking on the door, Spencer lifts his hand in greeting and continues on. It's a decent plan: offering to buy Brendon dinner. Spencer doesn't know why he doesn't follow through on it. He doesn't regret it, though, even when he gets home.
--
\\
--
Spencer never goes to the same place over and over again -- it's too risky that way and Spencer does what he can to minimize risk of getting caught. He doesn't go to the same place over and over again, he doesn't take all of the bodies to the same spot, he doesn't have a driver's license and his last known address isn't somewhere he ever actually lived -- but he comes back to the cafe again for some reason and lingers outside.
Brendon doesn't have his backpack this time. That means that he's found somewhere to say, it means that he's starting to settle in, it means he probably knows people here, now. No one who has seen him and Spencer together, though. Not yet.
Spencer looks at the sidewalk, looks through the window. He holds up his wrist and pretends to be considering the time as he watches Brendon through the glass. He shouldn't go inside. He recognizes the girl who's working the counter; it would be too risky to show his face around there again.
He opens the door, anyway, walking inside the cafe and making his way toward the line.
He's almost at the end of the line when he pauses, then doubles back. He stands in front of Brendon's table and Brendon looks up and smiles, and Spencer blurts out, "They've got shitty coffee here. Do you want to maybe go somewhere else?"
Brendon looks down in front of himself. His cup of coffee is still three-quarters full.
Spencer feels like an idiot. He makes himself take a breath instead of just fleeing the cafe.
Brendon nods, pushing out of his chair. "Yeah," he says. "Okay."
"Okay," Spencer echoes. He waits for Brendon to pull on his sweater; just a sweater, not a jacket, even though it's getting into the cold months of fall.
He holds the door open for Brendon, and everyone will be able to see them leaving together and maybe they'd remember his face and maybe they wouldn't and maybe Brendon's started to make friends here, maybe he'd be missed and maybe he wouldn't. Spencer doesn't like uncertainties. He should be careful, now, of who sees them together. Should be mindful.
"You just don't want to sit through the open mic performances," Brendon says, looking sideways at Spencer as they walk down the street.
"Is that today?" Spencer asks.
Brendon nods. "If I can find a guitar, I'm going to try one week, I think."
"Yeah?" Spencer asks. "Cool."
"So where did you want to go?" Brendon asks.
"Oh," Spencer says, looking around the street, trying to see if there are any coffee shops nearby. "I don't really--" He looks at Brendon and shrugs. "I don't really know what I'm doing here," he admits.
Brendon laughs, a happy sound, not like he's laughing at Spencer's awkwardness.
"I don't really need any more coffee, anyway," Brendon says. He leans in as they walk, letting his shoulder bump Spencer's.
Spencer doesn't usually like being touched, especially when he's not expecting it, especially when it's another person initiating the contact, but it's okay with Brendon. Brendon's body close beside Spencer's is okay. Spencer can't remember the last time someone was this close to him and it didn't make his skin crawl.
Brendon says, "Geeze, it's getting cold already." Says, "Did you see the hat that man was wearing?" Says, "Man, look at that woman's ugly dog." Brendon keeps up a steady stream of chatter, just noticing superficial things, not demanding any kind of real conversation from Spencer. Spencer likes the sound of his voice. He hopes that Brendon can find a guitar, because he'd like to hear him play sometime.
Spencer walks down the crowded sidewalk and doesn't worry about who might see them together.