this bed (house and head) | NC-17 | Spencer/Brendon | ~7100 words
this bed (house and head)
Spencer/Brendon | NC-17 | ~ 7100 words | Warnings for drug [ab]use, I guess?
Spencer goes back to his empty house.
One million trillion thanks go to airgiodslv for betaing, and, you know, the zillion other reasons why she's amazing and I love her. <3
i
Spencer breaks up with Haley and sleeps with two of Ryan's girl friends, the drum tech for My Chemical Romance, Bob from My Chemical Romance, the girl who sells t-shirts for Fall Out Boy, a girl who has the nicest fake breasts Spencer's ever seen, two more of Ryan's friends but not at once this time, the woman who is supposed to be interviewing them for an article in Spin, and the guy that Joe gets pot from, before taking a break and spending nearly the entirety of a week in Ryan's condo, smoking through two dimebags of weed.
"Do you ever think," Ryan asks, interrupting himself to cram a handful of goldfish crackers into his mouth. "Do you ever think about how speakers really work? Imagine if there were actually tiny little musicians inside. There'd be a tiny dude playing my part on a tiny guitar, and a tiny dude on drums." Ryan starts giggling to himself.
"It sort of looks like there's a black outline around everything," Spencer replies and reaches out to trace the lines of Ryan's coffee table. "Do you think we should put fresh water in the bong?"
--
ii
Brendon comes to visit on a Thursday.
He comes because Spencer calls him every hour from 10 AM to 2 PM and ask him to bring them groceries.
("Get him to bring Pringles," Ryan says from where he's lying on the floor. "The pizza kind."
"And Pringles," Spencer tells Brendon's answering machine. "And orange pop. And some of those rice cracker things. With peanut butter. Peanut butter." Spencer hangs up the phone. "Peanut butter," Spencer says to Ryan.
"I'm so fucking hungry right now," Ryan says.)
Brendon lets himself in with the key that Ryan gave him when he first moved in. Ryan gave away a lot of keys; Spencer's got one on his keychain, one in that he's left in his parents' house, and one that he's pretty sure he lent to Pete, the last time he came to Vegas.
Brendon walks straight to the kitchen and drops off two bags of groceries. "I actually hate you both," he yells. "So much."
Spencer can hear the fridge opening and closing. He pokes his toes through the holes in the afghan he's got wrapped around his feet. "Do you think my toes are longer than normal?" he whispers to Ryan.
"How the fuck would I know about something like that?" Ryan asks and waves his fingers in Spencer general direction with looking up.
"Good point," Spencer says. "I'll ask Brendon. Brendon!" he hollers. "Brendon, come here. And bring the peanut butter."
Brendon kicks three empty boxes out of his way from the kitchen and throws the jar of peanut butter at Spencer. Spencer doesn't catch it. He picks it up off the couch and opens the lid, sticking two fingers inside.
"Thanks, Brendon," he says, licking off his fingers and shoving them back inside to scoop up more.
"I think I'm getting a contact high just sitting here," Brendon says. "And also, that's fucking disgusting."
Spencer wraps his lips around his fingers again, groaning loudly from the back of his throat and hollowing his cheeks. He sucks them all the way into his mouth then pulls off with a loud pop. "It's just so fucking good," he says. Ryan twists around on the floor laughing.
Brendon looks away.
--
iii
It's not that Ryan kicks him out, it's just that Keltie's coming to visit.
Spencer goes back to his empty house. He's glad that Haley didn't live there long enough for her absence to make a difference.
--
Spencer calls Jon and they talk for three hours.
He goes to the grocery store and buys paper towel and four different kinds of breakfast cereal.
He goes home and visits his mom. He stays for dinner when his mom finds out that he's single again. Apparently not having a girlfriend means that Spencer's no longer able to feed himself. As opposed to continuing to be unable to feed himself.
He watches two discs of The Office and falls asleep on the couch.
--
They're lined up to play a series of festivals within the month, but that's still weeks and weeks away. Jon's going to fly in early so that they can practice for a few days first, but he's still in Chicago right now.
Spencer sets up a spare kit in his basement and plays by himself. He pounds away until his grip is slippery with sweat, until his arms are shaking and numb, until he can't think anymore.
He showers and washes his hair three times. Sleeps on the couch again.
--
iv
"We should go out," Spencer says.
There's a long hesitation on the line. "Go out?" Brendon asks.
"Out dancing," Spencer says. "Just. Out. That's what single guys do."
"... Okay," Brendon says, finally.
"I'll pick you up," Spencer says. "Then we can dump my car and walk somewhere. I don't want to have to drive home."
--
The trick is to find a club that's popular enough that it will mean something to have Brendon Urie From Panic! At The Disco (in all capitals and everything) party there, but not so big that it'll matter that they're underage.
"That was weird," Brendon says. Spencer had pushed him to the front of the line, talked quickly with the bouncer with his arm tightly around Brendon's shoulders, and gotten them in. "You know you're famous too, right? You didn't have to bring me along just to get in."
Spencer doesn't waste time rolling his eyes at him. He leads them through the club, finds an empty booth and smiles brightly at the waitress, who walks right over to them and comes back quickly with drinks.
"We drink beer now?" Brendon asks, rolling the bottle between his palms.
"When it's just the two of us in public, we do," Spencer says. Brendon really likes Long Island Iced Teas.
Spencer stretches out and watches the room. He finishes three beers in the time it takes Brendon to get through one. He's almost had enough to drink to brave a trip to the dance floor, but Brendon still looks uncomfortable and awkward in the booth.
"Drink!" Spencer says, grinning encouragingly.
Brendon puts his empty bottle on the table, but instead of twisting the cap off a new one, he looks across at Spencer and says, "How have you been? After-- You know?"
Spencer takes the full bottle for himself. "We're not at a club so that I can talk about it," he says. They couldn't really, even if they wanted to. Already Spencer has to shout to be heard.
"What happened?" Brendon pushes.
"She wanted someone who was going to be home for more than a month of the year," Spencer says.
"But, we've been home for months now," Brendon says.
Spencer grimaces. "Thanks, I hadn't noticed."
"Sorry," Brendon says. "Look, why don't we go somewhere else? We could probably still catch a movie or something."
"I'm fine," Spencer says. He stands. "C'mon, I want to dance."
Spencer dances with a tiny brunette who clicks her tongue piercing between her teeth and asks if he wants to go outside for a minute.
"Just a sec," Spencer says, and jogs over to where Brendon is sitting at the bar. "Dude," he says. "What's the problem?"
"Nothing," Brendon says.
There are two blondes sitting off to the side of Brendon and staring openly. Spencer pats Brendon on the shoulder and calls over to them, "My friend wants to buy you a drink."
The girls bounce over and press against Brendon from either side.
"Later!" Spencer waves goodbye and follows the brunette out the back entrance.
--
Brendon is silent for the car ride home and when the taxi stops in front of Brendon's condo, Spencer pays the driver and gets out as well.
"What?" Brendon says when he sees that Spencer's following him inside.
"Just making sure you get inside safely," Spencer says.
Brendon rolls his eyes.
Brendon pours him a glass of water and watches while Spencer drinks it.
"What's up with you tonight?" Brendon asks.
"What's up with you?" Spencer says. "You've been weird all evening."
"What?" Brendon says.
"Yeah. What?"
Brendon takes the empty glass from Spencer and puts it in the sink.
"That's not really my scene," Brendon says.
"What are you talking about, that's not your scene? We've gone to clubs a million times before. What's your problem?"
"Not the club," Brendon says. He runs his fingers through his hair over and over again.
"What?" Spencer asks.
"The other stuff."
"What other stuff? Jesus."
Brendon sighs loudly.
"What?" Spencer asks. "You're not into beautiful girls?" He doesn't mean for there to be an edge in his voice, doesn't mean to imply anything, but it's still there.
"I'm not into beautiful girls that I don't even know," Brendon says. "No."
"It's not like you've never--"
"I know that," Brendon says. "But, not lately."
Spencer stares at Brendon. "Not lately?" he says. "Or--?"
"You going to sleep on the couch?" Brendon asks. Brendon's back is turned as he rinses out the glass in the sink and puts it on the drying rack.
Spencer comes up beside him and hooks his chin over Brendon's shoulder.
"Want a bed," Spencer says.
Spencer feels it when Brendon sighs, feels the movement in his shoulders.
"I'll see if I can find the bedding for the guest room," Brendon says.
--
Spencer calls Jon.
"When's the last time Brendon hooked up?" he asks.
"How the fuck would I know?" Jon asks. Spencer can hear meowing in the background.
"Because you're usually the one he goes out with," Spencer tries.
"Not lately," Jon says.
"Huh?" Spencer says.
"What do you mean, 'huh'?" Jon says. "When would we have gone out? When you went back to Vegas and I was in Chicago? When we were at the cabin, and no one was bathing, let alone going out?"
"Huh," Spencer says, this time without the question mark.
--
vi
Spencer knocks on the door to Brendon's condo and shoves a case of Bud Light at him when he opens the door.
"Boys' night," Spencer says, cheerily.
"You brought Bud Light to a boy's night?" Brendon says, stepping away from the door to let Spencer in.
"Put that in the fridge," Spencer tells Brendon.
"I don't think it's going to taste better just because it's cold," Brendon says, walking to the kitchen.
Brendon grimaces and puts the shot glass back on the table. "I'm pretty sure you just made this up," he says.
"You've never heard of a centennial?" Spencer asks. He empties another beer can into the row of shot glasses. "One hundred shots in one hundred minutes."
"Who does shots of beer anyways?" Brendon asks.
"People who don't want to die," Spencer says. "But if you want to attempt one hundred shots of hard alcohol, be my guest."
Brendon rolls his eyes.
The timer goes off.
They each reach for another shot.
"No," Spencer insists. "You have to take two this time."
"The fuck I do," Brendon says. "Why?"
"You missed the last round, when you went to the bathroom."
"I took three shots before I went to the bathroom," Brendon says.
"But then you were gone four minutes."
"Yeah, but--"
"Time's running out!" Spencer says, gesturing at the timer. "Drink quickly."
Most of the second shot drips down Brendon's neck.
"I'm sticky," he says, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I'm so glad we're doing this in your kitchen," Spencer says. He ducks his head to look at the floor before straightening up slowly, slowly. "Whoa," he says, holding on tightly to the table. "I didn't mean to move that fast."
"Nachos," Spencer says. "Nachos and cheese. And. Olives. Naaaachos."
"Shut up," Brendon says, flicking an empty beer can, lying on its side on the table, around in circles. "You're making me hungry."
"Nachooos," Spencer says. "Cheese!"
"I think I have some tortilla chips," Brendon says, "but no olives."
"Nachos!" Spencer says happily.
Brendon stands up and turns around in a circle slowly. "That cupboard," he finally decides, walking towards the cupboard above the toaster. "You have to take my shots for me," Brendon yells, even though there's only an island counter-top separating him from Spencer. "While I make the food."
"Suuuure," Spencer says, pouring a half-inch of beer into four shot glasses.
"Ahhh," Spencer moans. "Uhhmmmm." Then, crunch crunch crunch.
Brendon pulls at a string of cheese with his fingers and pulls the end of it into his mouth with his teeth.
"S'ood," Spencer says. "S'oooooo good."
He's got food in both hands. When the timer goes off, he looks back and forth, back and forth, before shoving the nachos from his right hand into his mouth, then reaching for the shot glass.
"What number is this?" Brendon asks.
Spencer squints at the timer.
"Does that look like it's flashing zeros to you too," Spencer ask.
"Yup," Brendon says. "What does that mean?"
"Well," Spencer says. "Either we're done. Or we reset the timer by accident and we have to start over."
"Oh," Brendon says. "Umm. I don't want to start over."
Spencer taps his finger on his chin. He misses, twice, hitting himself in his neck, his cheek, before his index finger makes contact. "Well," he says, slowly. "I don't think we have enough beer left to start over anyways. I only brought a box of twenty-four. And there are--" Spencer peers into the box, sitting on the table beside them. "Two left."
"So--?" Brendon says.
"So I think we each have to shotgun one," Spencer decides.
"What's shotgun mean?" Brendon asks.
"How don't you know any of this?" Spencer asks, looking around for something sharp to puncture the cans with. "What, were you raised Mormon or something?" He starts laughing uproariously to himself.
Brendon scowls.
"Suck up the head," Spencer yells.
"Fucking-- What?" Brendon mutters as beer squirts all over his face.
"The foam!" Spencer says. "You're supposed to drink it."
"You can't do it either!" Brendon crows.
"Shut up," Spencer says, patting a hand on his chest. "I'm borrowing one of your t-shirts."
Brendon lies on his back, taking up most of the room on the couch. Spencer grabs his ankle and lifts it straight up until there's room for him to sit down.
"Hey," Brendon says indignantly, flexing his ankle in Spencer's grip.
"You're taking up all the space," Spencer says. He pokes at the bottom of Brendon's foot with his other hand. "And also, your socks have holes in them."
"They do not," Brendon says.
Spencer wiggles his finger until he's poking bare skin.
"Do," he says. "Do do do."
"Ack," Brendon says. He coughs, but Spencer can definitely hear the tail end of a giggle.
"Are you ticklish?" Spencer asks, moving his finger harder.
"No," Brendon says. His face is bright red.
"Hmm?" Spencer says. He uses the edge of his fingernail to scrape along the skin, and Brendon crumbles, gasping loudly and attempting to twist away from Spencer's grip.
Brendon pulls back and Spencer falls forward, and the couch cushions are very bouncy because Spencer doesn't know quite what happens but all of the sudden he's on top of Brendon, lying across the couch.
"Huh," Spencer says, looking up suspiciously. He looks down at Brendon and shrugs.
"You're crushing me," Brendon says, craning his neck up and making a big show of gasping loudly.
"Bah," Spencer says. He waits another minute before slowly wiggling lower so that less of his body weight rests on Brendon's chest. He puts his elbows down on the couch and holds himself up. "Told'a I knew how to do boys' night," he says.
"Yeah," Brendon says.
Brendon's warm warm warm beneath him on the couch and Spencer wiggles closer. Brendon makes a little noise, and Spencer looks up at his face. Brendon glances down at him. His face is still flushed, and Spencer can feel the quick breaths that he's taking.
"'m drunk," Brendon says, looking away.
"I'm drunk too," Spencer says.
Brendon's hard against his thigh. Spencer grinds down, slowly. His limbs are thick and slow, and the pleasure is a raw build, the friction against his cock from his jeans, from Brendon's thigh.
Brendon goes still beneath him, tense and small. Spencer ducks his head down, rubs his nose up against Brendon's. Brendon's eyes shut briefly, and then he rolls away, squirms away from the press of Spencer's body.
"I'm drunk," he says again. "I left the guest room set up."
Spencer rubs his palms on his thighs and listens as Brendon walks to his bedroom, footsteps uneven and loud in the quiet apartment.
Spencer stands, slowly, walks to the bathroom and brushes his teeth using Brendon's toothpaste and his finger.
--
Spencer sleeps fitfully. Not drunk enough to actually pass out, just enough that he wakes up every twenty minutes. At five, the light starts to creep in through the flimsy curtains, and Spencer gives up. He walks to the kitchen and pours himself a tall glass of water. He only manages to drink half of it, though.
He fills the glass again and walks to Brendon's room. The door is closed, but Spencer pushes it open quietly. Brendon's room is darker than the guest room was; it takes Spencer a minute to map the layout of the room. Brendon has changed the placement of the furniture since they helped him move in.
Spencer walks slowly over to the bed. It's a minute before he can place Brendon in the pile of blankets. One of his arms is pushed under the pillow, the other one thrown out to the side. It looks like he's still wearing the same clothes from the evening previous, but Spencer can only see the starting slope of his shoulders.
Spencer puts the glass on the table beside the bed and closes the door quietly beside himself.
He calls a cab, and waits outside of Brendon's condo for it to show up. The air is just on this side of crisp, but it feels cold and quick around Spencer as he crams his fingers into the pockets of his jeans.
Spencer's almost asleep on his feet when the cab finally pulls up.
--
vii
"Pete likes the demos I sent him," Ryan says. His voice sounds funny because he's trying to talk without exhaling.
Spencer reaches out, and Ryan passes him the bong.
"We should probably start working on the new songs again," Spencer says, before flicking the lighter on with his thumb.
Ryan exhales slowly. "Probably better wait until Jon's back in Vegas though," Ryan says.
"Right," Spencer says. "Also, I guess we should start practicing the new cover for the festivals."
"Yeah," Ryan says. "You want some popcorn?"
"That," Spencer says, "would be amazing."
--
Spencer ends up back at his mother's house for three nights straight. He hadn't intended on staying so long; there was no good reason for it, since his house is only twenty minutes away. He was just there for dinner, but then they all watched a movie together, and then it was late, and then he was sleeping in his old bedroom, which was preserved exactly how he left it when he moved into his house. And then it was three days later.
Spencer's house doesn't smell right, when he returns. It's nothing that he can put his finger on, just a nagging sense that something isn't quite right. It gets better when he does a few loads of laundry, using the same detergent that his mother always uses.
--
viii
Brendon calls and says, "I'm going to buy a piano. You wanna come?" and picks up Spencer within the hour.
Brendon didn't buy a house like Spencer did, but his condo is well-insulated.
"How are you going to get a piano up to the eighth floor?" Spencer asks.
Brendon looks away from the road, over to Spencer, and makes a little face.
"They'll figure that out, right?" he asks. "I think that people deliver pianos when you buy them. Wouldn't they?"
"Dunno," Spencer says. "I've never bought a piano before."
"Me neither."
Brendon finds a baby grand and starts cooing at it.
The salesman doesn't blink, and Spencer hides his grin by stroking his finger down the smooth, curved side on an upright bass.
--
They do deliver pianos, but they can't tell when exactly it will show up, so Brendon has to stay in his apartment waiting. The piano is supposed to be delivered on a Wednesday, so Spencer heads over to Brendon's to keep him company.
When he gets there, Brendon's apartment is messier than Spencer's ever seen it.
"I forgot to make room!" Brendon says, scurrying around. He has piled a chair onto a table, but left his keyboard against the wall.
"Dude," Spencer says. "Just get rid of the keyboard."
"No, no," Brendon says. "I'm still going to need that."
Spencer doesn't exactly help him rearrange things, but he goes around and rearranges Brendon's rearrangments so that nothing is in danger of tipping over.
"You should buy a drum kit, next," Spencer says.
Brendon says, "Ohh," and presses his finger against his lips while he looks around the room, appraising.
--
The piano comes and Brendon frets and flutters while they use cables to lift it through his balcony. Spencer leans against the wall and watches Brendon, watches the movers. When it comes time for a few of the men to pull the piano off the cables, Spencer tugs Brendon into his bedroom. There are just some things that Brendon doesn't need to watch.
Brendon's eyes are alert, and Spencer can tell that he's still trying to listen to hear what's happening.
"Did you remember to find someone to come and tune it?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says slowly, still otherwise engaged, before finally looking over at Spencer and saying again, "yeah."
"When's he coming?" Spencer asks.
"I said I'd call and book a time when the piano showed up," Brendon says. "I guess I should call!"
Brendon calls, and once he gets off the phone, he and Spencer discuss the merits of Brendon learning how to tune a piano himself until one of the movers knocks on the door and says that everything's set up.
--
The piano looks pretty awesome in Brendon's living room. Brendon hasn't done a lot of decorating, but everything is new, and looks good against the shiny black of the piano.
Spencer wonders if maybe it's time to actually do something to his own house as he settles on the couch and watches Brendon play.
Brendon plays and he plays and it's not that Spencer didn't know how well he played, it's not that he's never seen him in action before, it's just that maybe he didn't realize how much repertoire Brendon had memorized. Or. Something.
Brendon plays.
--
Spencer doesn't know what time it is when Brendon finally finishes, but it's late.
Brendon stands, and he cracks his shoulders, back, knuckles, wincing. He reaches his hands up above his head and stretches, back arching into a perfect curve. Spencer stands up from his seat of the couch and walks towards him.
The sun is setting late these days, so it was still something like daylight when they first settled. It's dark now, only the lamp beside the piano is turned on. Brendon's apartment seems quiet, especially now that the music has stopped.
It's still strange, being in Brendon's house, the fact that Brendon even has a house. They've spent so much time on the road, it's hard to get used to thinking of space as any one person's. This place is Brendon's though: his furniture, piled to make space for the things he actually uses, his mess of guitar cases, all stacked up neatly, and hoard of hoodies, forming a hazardous mound in the hallway in front of his bedroom. His row of shoes, in the entrance, even though Spencer thinks that maybe one or two of the pairs originally belonged to Spencer.
The way that the place is cluttered in spots and still neat in others (empty and neat) makes it obvious that Brendon just moved in, but Spencer still can see that Brendon has settled, as much as he can. As much as any of them can, anyway, knowing that it's a matter of weeks, maybe, before they're leaving again. Ryan's condo is still shiny, full of chrome and electronics, showy. Spencer's house is full of stuff. It's full of the gift boxes and bags that they hand out at award shows, boxes and bags of things that Spencer bought for himself. He's set up the whole basement for playing, left the space empty because he wants to be able to go down and make music and not have any distractions.
Spencer's house is perfectly functional and full of his things, and there's still nothing there for him to go home to. There's no real reason to leave Brendon's house, and Spencer knows that they're starting the little dance and shuffle towards saying goodnight.
Brendon looks tired, dazed mostly. Spencer knows what it's like to play for that long, knows the way that the aches and pains sneak up and only jump out once you've stepped away from your instrument. He knows that Brendon's back is sore, from the way that he's holding himself, even though Brendon always keeps a straight back. He wants to say, maybe you should take a bath, or, would you like a backrub? But. Brendon knows the options available to him.
Brendon knows what he can do for himself, and Spencer knows that he's heading back to an empty house and that there will probably be half a dozen messages of his phone (left in his car), and that none of the calls will be things that he has to answer back about. He knows that he can go home and that he is welcome and wanted and not really one of them, in a houseful of girls, and Panic! left on that first tour a long time ago. They left a long time ago, and they've come back, and they're always coming back, and Jon's returning somewhere, and Ryan's setting up a space for himself, and Spencer's trying not to think about all the things that he hasn't been able to bring back with him.
And Brendon's playing music.
Brendon walks to the main light switch and flips it on, and Spencer blinks and blinks.
"Nrg," Brendon says, stretching again. "What time is it?"
"Dunno," Spencer says. "Late." He grabs his keys off of the coffee table and makes a show of jingling them before shoving them back into his pocket.
"I think we should go see a movie tomorrow," Brendon says. "Ryan was talking about-- Something."
Spencer's dishwasher needs to be unloaded, and he just watered his cactus yesterday, but maybe he could water it again. Maybe he can water it again, and maybe head down to the basement to pound out a rhythm for a couple hours, and maybe he won't go to bed until he can feel the beat in his bones, and maybe when he goes to bed it won't matter that he's got a king-sized mattress. He wishes now that-- But when he bought it, he thought that he'd need the extra space, just like Ryan also bought a king and Brendon just bought a double and Jon didn't even need to buy a mattress because Cassie's already in the apartment waiting for him.
"What's up?" Brendon asks, and he's being careful. The tone of his voice is careful and quiet, even quieter than the silence of the apartment demands.
Brendon walks over to him. He's meandering, weaving around objects and taking his time, like if he gives Spencer enough notice, Spencer won't bolt when he gets close. Spencer stays still.
Brendon comes up beside him, and they're both beside the couch. Brendon is pale and still, like he only gets once he's tired himself out. His eyes are dark and huge when he gets like this. Spencer doesn't really feel that tired, but he can tell that Brendon's seeing something on him, too.
Brendon must see something, because he's looking at Spencer, and Spencer can see him trying to formulate words, and it doesn't matter how he phrases it, he's still going to be asking if Spencer's okay, and Spencer still doesn't want to talk about it. Right now, he's fine. Right here, right now, here in Brendon's house, across the room from Brendon's piano, right beside Brendon. Here, Spencer's fine. He just doesn't want to go back to his empty bed.
Spencer crowds into Brendon's space. Brendon looks around, glancing at Spencer, then away again. He's holding his body strangely; his hips aligned with Spencer's, but his torso twisting away.
Spencer kisses him anyway.
He kisses Brendon and Brendon kisses back, pushing forward frantically and then just stopping, mouth lax against Spencer's.
Spencer bites his lip, hard.
Brendon moans and freezes and opens his mouth and reaches to hold Spencer back with a hand to his chest.
"No," Spencer asks, "how about this then?" and drops to his knees.
Brendon's body sways when Spencer unzips his jeans and pulls them down enough to get his cock free. Brendon mutters above him, nothing as stupid as asking what he's doing, but mindlessly, "I don't-- I don't know if. Spencer," and then Spencer has his mouth around Brendon's cock and Brendon's hands flap and grasp at air, opening and closing inches away from Spencer's head.
Spencer works his mouth down slowly, waits until Brendon's all the way hard inside of his mouth, before pulling off with a lewd pop, and saying to the nearest of Brendon's hands, "It's fine if you want to touch." Brendon moves his hand away guiltily, before he catches himself and lowers it back towards Spencer in increments. When he gets back to Spencer's head, he rests it just lightly, not even pushing his fingers into Spencer's hair.
Spencer takes his cock all the way down and swallows and swallows and swallows until he really needs to breathe again and has to pull off. Brendon makes a broken sound above him and rests his fingers lightly just under the curve of Spencer's cheek.
Spencer licks over the head of his cock until Brendon mews, working in rough circles around the head and then slowly inwards to lick salt away from the slit. Brendon's hand skirts around, brushing over the top of Spencer's head, down to the side, skimming over his ear. He doesn't push further into Spencer's mouth, doesn't tug his head down lower.
Spencer works his hand over Brendon, too. It doesn't take long after that, before Brendon's coming. Spencer swallows, before licking over Brendon's cock, hard, just to feel him shudder and twitch.
He pulls away and looks up at Brendon.
Brendon's eyes are scrunched tightly shut. It takes a minute, but eventually his hands reach out, tug up his boxers, zip up his jeans. He's still not looking at Spencer.
It's probably a good time to get up off of his knees, so Spencer stands, tries to adjust his cock subtly, hiding the movement.
He pats his hand over his pocket to reassure himself that his keys are still there, and walks to where his shoes are resting. Brendon is still in the main area; Spencer can see him standing. His shoulders slump forward, his body limp except for the places where he's curling in on himself. His head droops down, but his hair isn't long enough to actually obscure his face. Spencer wants to push his bangs aside, anyway.
He pulls on his shoes without untying the laces first, and closes Brendon's door, gently.
--
ix
They do end up going to a matinee the next afternoon. Brendon has apparently already made the promise to Ryan, and it's easier for Spencer to come than to try and explain to Ryan why there would be any reason why he couldn't.
They sit in the back row, Ryan in the middle. Spencer and Brendon both talk mainly to him, sometimes at the same time, and sometimes Ryan responds, and sometimes he's too busy sucking the sugar off of his Sour Patch Kids, and by the end of the movie, Spencer and Brendon are talking to each other again, over top of Ryan.
Spencer walks out of the theater and presses his shoulder against Brendon's. Brendon doesn't move away.
--
Spencer bows out when Ryan and Brendon head off for an early supper. He stops by a plant store on the way home, and buys a giant cactus and a huge ceramic pot to put it in. The people at the store help him carry it to his car, and Spencer doesn't think far enough ahead to plan for the trip from his car to his house.
He manages to get both inside, even though things get a little scary when he's dragging the pot up his porch steps. The only real trouble actually comes when he brushes his hand over his original cactus, and ends up with tiny needles stuck all over the back of his hand.
--
Spencer doesn't have tweezers, and the prickles are still there the next day.
He has to call Ryan, who comes over and laughs at him the entire time, hunched over and squinting at Spencer's hand as he holds his tweezers carefully.
--
x
Spencer can't sleep.
His house is too big or too small or something, and it's just agitating him to walk from room to room to room. He needs a pet, maybe; he shouldn't have let Haley keep the dog.
He gets into his car with no destination in mind and winds up pulling over in front of Ryan's building. Ryan's condo faces the street, and Spencer can see that the lights are off, and maybe he could wake up Ryan anyway, but that's never been Spencer's role. Spencer's never been the one to show up through the night. Spencer's never been the one trying to find a place for himself in other people's homes.
He leaves Ryan sleeping.
He has no intention of visiting Brendon. It's in his head that he'll go to a coffee shop, maybe. Somewhere that's open all night. He has no plans to drive to Brendon's, but here he is, standing in front of Brendon's door and staring down the rows of buttons, wondering if he should see if Brendon will buzz him up.
He ends up compromising. He sends Brendon a text, You up still?.
Yeah, comes back in a minute. Then, in quick succession, What's up?
Can't sleep, Spencer sends, and honestly, he should leave now. He doesn't know what he's doing here, even though maybe he does know what he's looking for. He's antsy, but this is not where he should be.
Brendon sends back, You wanna watch a mvoie? and Spencer thinks, I'm just going to go back home. Sends, I'm standing outside your door, instead.
Brendon buzzes him up.
--
While they're still clothed, Brendon kisses slick and wet, rubs back against the press of Spencer's knee between his legs, makes a little noise when Spencer flexes his thigh. But, by the time Spencer's got him naked and on his back, he stops. He's hard still, but he freezes awkwardly when Spencer lines up their bodies and pushes their cocks together.
This is not where Spencer should be tonight. He should be with a stranger, maybe. There's a drawer full of phone numbers in Spencer's kitchen, scraps of paper that people have slipped to him. It's not like he doesn't have options. Instead, he's here with Brendon. Sort of. He's sort of here with Brendon, but Brendon's definitely not here with him, so maybe it doesn't matter. Spencer wants to ask, you can't still think this is wrong? But Spencer hasn't had that conversation with Brendon before and he's certainly not going to have it now.
Spencer looks down at Brendon and wonders if he should just suck him off again. He wants more than that though, wants the movement of two bodies moving together, so he says, "This, okay?" and rocks his hips against Brendon's. What he wants is to fuck Brendon, or to ride him, maybe. But, there's pushing and there's pushing, and maybe Spencer should have tried to talk to him at some point, because he doesn't actually know if Brendon's done any of that before. He assumed, they all assumed, but Brendon's never actually said anything.
Brendon's still beneath him. Spencer kisses his mouth, kisses his neck, says, "C'mon. Come on. I know you've thought about this before."
Brendon jerks and makes a low, questioning noise.
Spencer presses their cheeks together, licks Brendon's earlobe. He says, "Just-- With me, okay? Just move with me," and Brendon's hips nudge up to meet his.
It takes a while before Spencer feels more than just huge and awkward, rutting up against Brendon, Brendon staying silent beneath him and working his teeth into his lower lip. A little noise slips out anyway, before Brendon gets his mouth tightly closed again, but it sets something inside of Spencer off and he wants. They manage a rhythm together, they do. Even though it takes time. They manage to work into a rhythm, and Spencer knew that it could be like this.
Brendon's sweating, and Spencer is too, probably, and Brendon's skin is smooth in places, covered with rougher hair in others. His cock lines up with Spencer's, rubs together before slipping to the side again. Spencer knows it would be easier if he wrapped a hand around the two of them, if he gave them something to thrust into, but he likes the challenge. He likes the way the muscles in his back, his thighs, his stomach are tight with the effort to keep moving. He likes the burn that's starting to set in, the way he's beginning to tremble, the way that he's starting to get tired, even under the frantic daze of urgency. He likes that he can feel the strain in Brendon, too.
Spencer holds back a little, creeps back and forth, closer and closer to orgasm each time. He want to come with Brendon, even if it's mostly because of the worry that if Brendon comes first, he'll just roll away afterward.
Spencer waits until his body buzzes with tension. Their thighs rub together, their chests. Spencer keeps touching Brendon, pressing his fingers into Brendon's side, his shoulder, his hair. Brendon's hands are pressed flat to the mattress.
Brendon does come first, but only by a matter of seconds. Spencer feels Brendon's cock jerking wetly between them, and they rub through the aftershocks together.
Spencer's body is tired, his hips and his arms and his brain.
Brendon lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. Spencer gives him a minute, before sitting up and pulling them both off the bed and to the bathroom.
Brendon likes the shower cooler than Spencer does and he reaches to turn the temperature down twice. On the third time, Spencer drops to his knees and grabs Brendon's hips when he bends forward, reaching for the faucet. Brendon jerks against him, but Spencer just tightens his grip.
Spencer runs his nose over the lower curve of Brendon's back, before ducking his head lower and biting at the top line of Brendon's thigh. Brendon freezes at the first, jerks at the second, and tries to wiggle away when Spencer starts moving his mouth upwards.
"Come on," Brendon says. "That's. Spencer, no, come on." But Spencer just adjusts his hold, still just as tight, so that he can spread Brendon open. Brendon's body is rigid and he jerks forward at the first pass of Spencer's tongue across his entrance. Spencer digs his fingers into the fleshy curve of Brendon's ass and flickers the tip of his tongue in quick circles.
Brendon tries one more time, "Spencer, this isn't-- You--" but when Spencer pulls away, it's only to say, "Brace yourself against the shower wall," before he starts in again.
Spencer can feel it when Brendon complies because the angle changes. He pushes his tongue past the tight ring and pushes and pushes until he can feel Brendon starting to relax around him, starting to push back himself.
Spencer doesn't know what he's trying to prove, if he's trying to give something to Brendon or take something for himself. The water is rushing loudly around them, dripping down Brendon's back, into Spencer's mouth. Spencer pushes his face into wet skin, even though it's hard to breathe. He can't hear Brendon through the water, doesn't know if there is anything to hear anyway. He just licks, in slow circles, in quicker flickers, in deeper thrusts. He's not thinking, just moving, and when things change a bit, Spencer has to force himself to focus, to turn his attention outwards, and even then it takes him a moment to realize that Brendon's fisting his own cock.
Spencer's nose smushes into Brendon's tail bone, he licks his tongue in long, hard strokes. Brendon comes, and Spencer has to tighten his grip on Brendon's hips to stop him from falling over. He eases Brendon down until they're both sitting on the floor of the shower. There's water everywhere, and Spencer can hardly see. Brendon's skin is the same temperature as the water and just as slick. He slumps down, resting his head on the tiled wall. Spencer sits with him, wraps his arms around his knees and waits.
--
Brendon makes Spencer coffee, then heads back to bed, leaving Spencer to let himself out.
Spencer naps in his car, in the parking garage, for twenty minutes until the coffee kicks in, then starts to drive. He loops around his block four times before finally pulling into his driveway.
The sun is just starting to rise as Spencer walks to his front door, so he sits on the steps and watches. The clouds are red and purple, jagged slices in the sky.
He walks to the kitchen for a glass of water, to his bathroom to brush his teeth, to his living room and sleeps on the couch.
Spencer/Brendon | NC-17 | ~ 7100 words | Warnings for drug [ab]use, I guess?
Spencer goes back to his empty house.
One million trillion thanks go to airgiodslv for betaing, and, you know, the zillion other reasons why she's amazing and I love her. <3
i
Spencer breaks up with Haley and sleeps with two of Ryan's girl friends, the drum tech for My Chemical Romance, Bob from My Chemical Romance, the girl who sells t-shirts for Fall Out Boy, a girl who has the nicest fake breasts Spencer's ever seen, two more of Ryan's friends but not at once this time, the woman who is supposed to be interviewing them for an article in Spin, and the guy that Joe gets pot from, before taking a break and spending nearly the entirety of a week in Ryan's condo, smoking through two dimebags of weed.
"Do you ever think," Ryan asks, interrupting himself to cram a handful of goldfish crackers into his mouth. "Do you ever think about how speakers really work? Imagine if there were actually tiny little musicians inside. There'd be a tiny dude playing my part on a tiny guitar, and a tiny dude on drums." Ryan starts giggling to himself.
"It sort of looks like there's a black outline around everything," Spencer replies and reaches out to trace the lines of Ryan's coffee table. "Do you think we should put fresh water in the bong?"
--
ii
Brendon comes to visit on a Thursday.
He comes because Spencer calls him every hour from 10 AM to 2 PM and ask him to bring them groceries.
("Get him to bring Pringles," Ryan says from where he's lying on the floor. "The pizza kind."
"And Pringles," Spencer tells Brendon's answering machine. "And orange pop. And some of those rice cracker things. With peanut butter. Peanut butter." Spencer hangs up the phone. "Peanut butter," Spencer says to Ryan.
"I'm so fucking hungry right now," Ryan says.)
Brendon lets himself in with the key that Ryan gave him when he first moved in. Ryan gave away a lot of keys; Spencer's got one on his keychain, one in that he's left in his parents' house, and one that he's pretty sure he lent to Pete, the last time he came to Vegas.
Brendon walks straight to the kitchen and drops off two bags of groceries. "I actually hate you both," he yells. "So much."
Spencer can hear the fridge opening and closing. He pokes his toes through the holes in the afghan he's got wrapped around his feet. "Do you think my toes are longer than normal?" he whispers to Ryan.
"How the fuck would I know about something like that?" Ryan asks and waves his fingers in Spencer general direction with looking up.
"Good point," Spencer says. "I'll ask Brendon. Brendon!" he hollers. "Brendon, come here. And bring the peanut butter."
Brendon kicks three empty boxes out of his way from the kitchen and throws the jar of peanut butter at Spencer. Spencer doesn't catch it. He picks it up off the couch and opens the lid, sticking two fingers inside.
"Thanks, Brendon," he says, licking off his fingers and shoving them back inside to scoop up more.
"I think I'm getting a contact high just sitting here," Brendon says. "And also, that's fucking disgusting."
Spencer wraps his lips around his fingers again, groaning loudly from the back of his throat and hollowing his cheeks. He sucks them all the way into his mouth then pulls off with a loud pop. "It's just so fucking good," he says. Ryan twists around on the floor laughing.
Brendon looks away.
--
iii
It's not that Ryan kicks him out, it's just that Keltie's coming to visit.
Spencer goes back to his empty house. He's glad that Haley didn't live there long enough for her absence to make a difference.
--
Spencer calls Jon and they talk for three hours.
He goes to the grocery store and buys paper towel and four different kinds of breakfast cereal.
He goes home and visits his mom. He stays for dinner when his mom finds out that he's single again. Apparently not having a girlfriend means that Spencer's no longer able to feed himself. As opposed to continuing to be unable to feed himself.
He watches two discs of The Office and falls asleep on the couch.
--
They're lined up to play a series of festivals within the month, but that's still weeks and weeks away. Jon's going to fly in early so that they can practice for a few days first, but he's still in Chicago right now.
Spencer sets up a spare kit in his basement and plays by himself. He pounds away until his grip is slippery with sweat, until his arms are shaking and numb, until he can't think anymore.
He showers and washes his hair three times. Sleeps on the couch again.
--
iv
"We should go out," Spencer says.
There's a long hesitation on the line. "Go out?" Brendon asks.
"Out dancing," Spencer says. "Just. Out. That's what single guys do."
"... Okay," Brendon says, finally.
"I'll pick you up," Spencer says. "Then we can dump my car and walk somewhere. I don't want to have to drive home."
--
The trick is to find a club that's popular enough that it will mean something to have Brendon Urie From Panic! At The Disco (in all capitals and everything) party there, but not so big that it'll matter that they're underage.
"That was weird," Brendon says. Spencer had pushed him to the front of the line, talked quickly with the bouncer with his arm tightly around Brendon's shoulders, and gotten them in. "You know you're famous too, right? You didn't have to bring me along just to get in."
Spencer doesn't waste time rolling his eyes at him. He leads them through the club, finds an empty booth and smiles brightly at the waitress, who walks right over to them and comes back quickly with drinks.
"We drink beer now?" Brendon asks, rolling the bottle between his palms.
"When it's just the two of us in public, we do," Spencer says. Brendon really likes Long Island Iced Teas.
Spencer stretches out and watches the room. He finishes three beers in the time it takes Brendon to get through one. He's almost had enough to drink to brave a trip to the dance floor, but Brendon still looks uncomfortable and awkward in the booth.
"Drink!" Spencer says, grinning encouragingly.
Brendon puts his empty bottle on the table, but instead of twisting the cap off a new one, he looks across at Spencer and says, "How have you been? After-- You know?"
Spencer takes the full bottle for himself. "We're not at a club so that I can talk about it," he says. They couldn't really, even if they wanted to. Already Spencer has to shout to be heard.
"What happened?" Brendon pushes.
"She wanted someone who was going to be home for more than a month of the year," Spencer says.
"But, we've been home for months now," Brendon says.
Spencer grimaces. "Thanks, I hadn't noticed."
"Sorry," Brendon says. "Look, why don't we go somewhere else? We could probably still catch a movie or something."
"I'm fine," Spencer says. He stands. "C'mon, I want to dance."
Spencer dances with a tiny brunette who clicks her tongue piercing between her teeth and asks if he wants to go outside for a minute.
"Just a sec," Spencer says, and jogs over to where Brendon is sitting at the bar. "Dude," he says. "What's the problem?"
"Nothing," Brendon says.
There are two blondes sitting off to the side of Brendon and staring openly. Spencer pats Brendon on the shoulder and calls over to them, "My friend wants to buy you a drink."
The girls bounce over and press against Brendon from either side.
"Later!" Spencer waves goodbye and follows the brunette out the back entrance.
--
Brendon is silent for the car ride home and when the taxi stops in front of Brendon's condo, Spencer pays the driver and gets out as well.
"What?" Brendon says when he sees that Spencer's following him inside.
"Just making sure you get inside safely," Spencer says.
Brendon rolls his eyes.
Brendon pours him a glass of water and watches while Spencer drinks it.
"What's up with you tonight?" Brendon asks.
"What's up with you?" Spencer says. "You've been weird all evening."
"What?" Brendon says.
"Yeah. What?"
Brendon takes the empty glass from Spencer and puts it in the sink.
"That's not really my scene," Brendon says.
"What are you talking about, that's not your scene? We've gone to clubs a million times before. What's your problem?"
"Not the club," Brendon says. He runs his fingers through his hair over and over again.
"What?" Spencer asks.
"The other stuff."
"What other stuff? Jesus."
Brendon sighs loudly.
"What?" Spencer asks. "You're not into beautiful girls?" He doesn't mean for there to be an edge in his voice, doesn't mean to imply anything, but it's still there.
"I'm not into beautiful girls that I don't even know," Brendon says. "No."
"It's not like you've never--"
"I know that," Brendon says. "But, not lately."
Spencer stares at Brendon. "Not lately?" he says. "Or--?"
"You going to sleep on the couch?" Brendon asks. Brendon's back is turned as he rinses out the glass in the sink and puts it on the drying rack.
Spencer comes up beside him and hooks his chin over Brendon's shoulder.
"Want a bed," Spencer says.
Spencer feels it when Brendon sighs, feels the movement in his shoulders.
"I'll see if I can find the bedding for the guest room," Brendon says.
--
Spencer calls Jon.
"When's the last time Brendon hooked up?" he asks.
"How the fuck would I know?" Jon asks. Spencer can hear meowing in the background.
"Because you're usually the one he goes out with," Spencer tries.
"Not lately," Jon says.
"Huh?" Spencer says.
"What do you mean, 'huh'?" Jon says. "When would we have gone out? When you went back to Vegas and I was in Chicago? When we were at the cabin, and no one was bathing, let alone going out?"
"Huh," Spencer says, this time without the question mark.
--
vi
Spencer knocks on the door to Brendon's condo and shoves a case of Bud Light at him when he opens the door.
"Boys' night," Spencer says, cheerily.
"You brought Bud Light to a boy's night?" Brendon says, stepping away from the door to let Spencer in.
"Put that in the fridge," Spencer tells Brendon.
"I don't think it's going to taste better just because it's cold," Brendon says, walking to the kitchen.
Brendon grimaces and puts the shot glass back on the table. "I'm pretty sure you just made this up," he says.
"You've never heard of a centennial?" Spencer asks. He empties another beer can into the row of shot glasses. "One hundred shots in one hundred minutes."
"Who does shots of beer anyways?" Brendon asks.
"People who don't want to die," Spencer says. "But if you want to attempt one hundred shots of hard alcohol, be my guest."
Brendon rolls his eyes.
The timer goes off.
They each reach for another shot.
"No," Spencer insists. "You have to take two this time."
"The fuck I do," Brendon says. "Why?"
"You missed the last round, when you went to the bathroom."
"I took three shots before I went to the bathroom," Brendon says.
"But then you were gone four minutes."
"Yeah, but--"
"Time's running out!" Spencer says, gesturing at the timer. "Drink quickly."
Most of the second shot drips down Brendon's neck.
"I'm sticky," he says, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I'm so glad we're doing this in your kitchen," Spencer says. He ducks his head to look at the floor before straightening up slowly, slowly. "Whoa," he says, holding on tightly to the table. "I didn't mean to move that fast."
"Nachos," Spencer says. "Nachos and cheese. And. Olives. Naaaachos."
"Shut up," Brendon says, flicking an empty beer can, lying on its side on the table, around in circles. "You're making me hungry."
"Nachooos," Spencer says. "Cheese!"
"I think I have some tortilla chips," Brendon says, "but no olives."
"Nachos!" Spencer says happily.
Brendon stands up and turns around in a circle slowly. "That cupboard," he finally decides, walking towards the cupboard above the toaster. "You have to take my shots for me," Brendon yells, even though there's only an island counter-top separating him from Spencer. "While I make the food."
"Suuuure," Spencer says, pouring a half-inch of beer into four shot glasses.
"Ahhh," Spencer moans. "Uhhmmmm." Then, crunch crunch crunch.
Brendon pulls at a string of cheese with his fingers and pulls the end of it into his mouth with his teeth.
"S'ood," Spencer says. "S'oooooo good."
He's got food in both hands. When the timer goes off, he looks back and forth, back and forth, before shoving the nachos from his right hand into his mouth, then reaching for the shot glass.
"What number is this?" Brendon asks.
Spencer squints at the timer.
"Does that look like it's flashing zeros to you too," Spencer ask.
"Yup," Brendon says. "What does that mean?"
"Well," Spencer says. "Either we're done. Or we reset the timer by accident and we have to start over."
"Oh," Brendon says. "Umm. I don't want to start over."
Spencer taps his finger on his chin. He misses, twice, hitting himself in his neck, his cheek, before his index finger makes contact. "Well," he says, slowly. "I don't think we have enough beer left to start over anyways. I only brought a box of twenty-four. And there are--" Spencer peers into the box, sitting on the table beside them. "Two left."
"So--?" Brendon says.
"So I think we each have to shotgun one," Spencer decides.
"What's shotgun mean?" Brendon asks.
"How don't you know any of this?" Spencer asks, looking around for something sharp to puncture the cans with. "What, were you raised Mormon or something?" He starts laughing uproariously to himself.
Brendon scowls.
"Suck up the head," Spencer yells.
"Fucking-- What?" Brendon mutters as beer squirts all over his face.
"The foam!" Spencer says. "You're supposed to drink it."
"You can't do it either!" Brendon crows.
"Shut up," Spencer says, patting a hand on his chest. "I'm borrowing one of your t-shirts."
Brendon lies on his back, taking up most of the room on the couch. Spencer grabs his ankle and lifts it straight up until there's room for him to sit down.
"Hey," Brendon says indignantly, flexing his ankle in Spencer's grip.
"You're taking up all the space," Spencer says. He pokes at the bottom of Brendon's foot with his other hand. "And also, your socks have holes in them."
"They do not," Brendon says.
Spencer wiggles his finger until he's poking bare skin.
"Do," he says. "Do do do."
"Ack," Brendon says. He coughs, but Spencer can definitely hear the tail end of a giggle.
"Are you ticklish?" Spencer asks, moving his finger harder.
"No," Brendon says. His face is bright red.
"Hmm?" Spencer says. He uses the edge of his fingernail to scrape along the skin, and Brendon crumbles, gasping loudly and attempting to twist away from Spencer's grip.
Brendon pulls back and Spencer falls forward, and the couch cushions are very bouncy because Spencer doesn't know quite what happens but all of the sudden he's on top of Brendon, lying across the couch.
"Huh," Spencer says, looking up suspiciously. He looks down at Brendon and shrugs.
"You're crushing me," Brendon says, craning his neck up and making a big show of gasping loudly.
"Bah," Spencer says. He waits another minute before slowly wiggling lower so that less of his body weight rests on Brendon's chest. He puts his elbows down on the couch and holds himself up. "Told'a I knew how to do boys' night," he says.
"Yeah," Brendon says.
Brendon's warm warm warm beneath him on the couch and Spencer wiggles closer. Brendon makes a little noise, and Spencer looks up at his face. Brendon glances down at him. His face is still flushed, and Spencer can feel the quick breaths that he's taking.
"'m drunk," Brendon says, looking away.
"I'm drunk too," Spencer says.
Brendon's hard against his thigh. Spencer grinds down, slowly. His limbs are thick and slow, and the pleasure is a raw build, the friction against his cock from his jeans, from Brendon's thigh.
Brendon goes still beneath him, tense and small. Spencer ducks his head down, rubs his nose up against Brendon's. Brendon's eyes shut briefly, and then he rolls away, squirms away from the press of Spencer's body.
"I'm drunk," he says again. "I left the guest room set up."
Spencer rubs his palms on his thighs and listens as Brendon walks to his bedroom, footsteps uneven and loud in the quiet apartment.
Spencer stands, slowly, walks to the bathroom and brushes his teeth using Brendon's toothpaste and his finger.
--
Spencer sleeps fitfully. Not drunk enough to actually pass out, just enough that he wakes up every twenty minutes. At five, the light starts to creep in through the flimsy curtains, and Spencer gives up. He walks to the kitchen and pours himself a tall glass of water. He only manages to drink half of it, though.
He fills the glass again and walks to Brendon's room. The door is closed, but Spencer pushes it open quietly. Brendon's room is darker than the guest room was; it takes Spencer a minute to map the layout of the room. Brendon has changed the placement of the furniture since they helped him move in.
Spencer walks slowly over to the bed. It's a minute before he can place Brendon in the pile of blankets. One of his arms is pushed under the pillow, the other one thrown out to the side. It looks like he's still wearing the same clothes from the evening previous, but Spencer can only see the starting slope of his shoulders.
Spencer puts the glass on the table beside the bed and closes the door quietly beside himself.
He calls a cab, and waits outside of Brendon's condo for it to show up. The air is just on this side of crisp, but it feels cold and quick around Spencer as he crams his fingers into the pockets of his jeans.
Spencer's almost asleep on his feet when the cab finally pulls up.
--
vii
"Pete likes the demos I sent him," Ryan says. His voice sounds funny because he's trying to talk without exhaling.
Spencer reaches out, and Ryan passes him the bong.
"We should probably start working on the new songs again," Spencer says, before flicking the lighter on with his thumb.
Ryan exhales slowly. "Probably better wait until Jon's back in Vegas though," Ryan says.
"Right," Spencer says. "Also, I guess we should start practicing the new cover for the festivals."
"Yeah," Ryan says. "You want some popcorn?"
"That," Spencer says, "would be amazing."
--
Spencer ends up back at his mother's house for three nights straight. He hadn't intended on staying so long; there was no good reason for it, since his house is only twenty minutes away. He was just there for dinner, but then they all watched a movie together, and then it was late, and then he was sleeping in his old bedroom, which was preserved exactly how he left it when he moved into his house. And then it was three days later.
Spencer's house doesn't smell right, when he returns. It's nothing that he can put his finger on, just a nagging sense that something isn't quite right. It gets better when he does a few loads of laundry, using the same detergent that his mother always uses.
--
viii
Brendon calls and says, "I'm going to buy a piano. You wanna come?" and picks up Spencer within the hour.
Brendon didn't buy a house like Spencer did, but his condo is well-insulated.
"How are you going to get a piano up to the eighth floor?" Spencer asks.
Brendon looks away from the road, over to Spencer, and makes a little face.
"They'll figure that out, right?" he asks. "I think that people deliver pianos when you buy them. Wouldn't they?"
"Dunno," Spencer says. "I've never bought a piano before."
"Me neither."
Brendon finds a baby grand and starts cooing at it.
The salesman doesn't blink, and Spencer hides his grin by stroking his finger down the smooth, curved side on an upright bass.
--
They do deliver pianos, but they can't tell when exactly it will show up, so Brendon has to stay in his apartment waiting. The piano is supposed to be delivered on a Wednesday, so Spencer heads over to Brendon's to keep him company.
When he gets there, Brendon's apartment is messier than Spencer's ever seen it.
"I forgot to make room!" Brendon says, scurrying around. He has piled a chair onto a table, but left his keyboard against the wall.
"Dude," Spencer says. "Just get rid of the keyboard."
"No, no," Brendon says. "I'm still going to need that."
Spencer doesn't exactly help him rearrange things, but he goes around and rearranges Brendon's rearrangments so that nothing is in danger of tipping over.
"You should buy a drum kit, next," Spencer says.
Brendon says, "Ohh," and presses his finger against his lips while he looks around the room, appraising.
--
The piano comes and Brendon frets and flutters while they use cables to lift it through his balcony. Spencer leans against the wall and watches Brendon, watches the movers. When it comes time for a few of the men to pull the piano off the cables, Spencer tugs Brendon into his bedroom. There are just some things that Brendon doesn't need to watch.
Brendon's eyes are alert, and Spencer can tell that he's still trying to listen to hear what's happening.
"Did you remember to find someone to come and tune it?" Spencer asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says slowly, still otherwise engaged, before finally looking over at Spencer and saying again, "yeah."
"When's he coming?" Spencer asks.
"I said I'd call and book a time when the piano showed up," Brendon says. "I guess I should call!"
Brendon calls, and once he gets off the phone, he and Spencer discuss the merits of Brendon learning how to tune a piano himself until one of the movers knocks on the door and says that everything's set up.
--
The piano looks pretty awesome in Brendon's living room. Brendon hasn't done a lot of decorating, but everything is new, and looks good against the shiny black of the piano.
Spencer wonders if maybe it's time to actually do something to his own house as he settles on the couch and watches Brendon play.
Brendon plays and he plays and it's not that Spencer didn't know how well he played, it's not that he's never seen him in action before, it's just that maybe he didn't realize how much repertoire Brendon had memorized. Or. Something.
Brendon plays.
--
Spencer doesn't know what time it is when Brendon finally finishes, but it's late.
Brendon stands, and he cracks his shoulders, back, knuckles, wincing. He reaches his hands up above his head and stretches, back arching into a perfect curve. Spencer stands up from his seat of the couch and walks towards him.
The sun is setting late these days, so it was still something like daylight when they first settled. It's dark now, only the lamp beside the piano is turned on. Brendon's apartment seems quiet, especially now that the music has stopped.
It's still strange, being in Brendon's house, the fact that Brendon even has a house. They've spent so much time on the road, it's hard to get used to thinking of space as any one person's. This place is Brendon's though: his furniture, piled to make space for the things he actually uses, his mess of guitar cases, all stacked up neatly, and hoard of hoodies, forming a hazardous mound in the hallway in front of his bedroom. His row of shoes, in the entrance, even though Spencer thinks that maybe one or two of the pairs originally belonged to Spencer.
The way that the place is cluttered in spots and still neat in others (empty and neat) makes it obvious that Brendon just moved in, but Spencer still can see that Brendon has settled, as much as he can. As much as any of them can, anyway, knowing that it's a matter of weeks, maybe, before they're leaving again. Ryan's condo is still shiny, full of chrome and electronics, showy. Spencer's house is full of stuff. It's full of the gift boxes and bags that they hand out at award shows, boxes and bags of things that Spencer bought for himself. He's set up the whole basement for playing, left the space empty because he wants to be able to go down and make music and not have any distractions.
Spencer's house is perfectly functional and full of his things, and there's still nothing there for him to go home to. There's no real reason to leave Brendon's house, and Spencer knows that they're starting the little dance and shuffle towards saying goodnight.
Brendon looks tired, dazed mostly. Spencer knows what it's like to play for that long, knows the way that the aches and pains sneak up and only jump out once you've stepped away from your instrument. He knows that Brendon's back is sore, from the way that he's holding himself, even though Brendon always keeps a straight back. He wants to say, maybe you should take a bath, or, would you like a backrub? But. Brendon knows the options available to him.
Brendon knows what he can do for himself, and Spencer knows that he's heading back to an empty house and that there will probably be half a dozen messages of his phone (left in his car), and that none of the calls will be things that he has to answer back about. He knows that he can go home and that he is welcome and wanted and not really one of them, in a houseful of girls, and Panic! left on that first tour a long time ago. They left a long time ago, and they've come back, and they're always coming back, and Jon's returning somewhere, and Ryan's setting up a space for himself, and Spencer's trying not to think about all the things that he hasn't been able to bring back with him.
And Brendon's playing music.
Brendon walks to the main light switch and flips it on, and Spencer blinks and blinks.
"Nrg," Brendon says, stretching again. "What time is it?"
"Dunno," Spencer says. "Late." He grabs his keys off of the coffee table and makes a show of jingling them before shoving them back into his pocket.
"I think we should go see a movie tomorrow," Brendon says. "Ryan was talking about-- Something."
Spencer's dishwasher needs to be unloaded, and he just watered his cactus yesterday, but maybe he could water it again. Maybe he can water it again, and maybe head down to the basement to pound out a rhythm for a couple hours, and maybe he won't go to bed until he can feel the beat in his bones, and maybe when he goes to bed it won't matter that he's got a king-sized mattress. He wishes now that-- But when he bought it, he thought that he'd need the extra space, just like Ryan also bought a king and Brendon just bought a double and Jon didn't even need to buy a mattress because Cassie's already in the apartment waiting for him.
"What's up?" Brendon asks, and he's being careful. The tone of his voice is careful and quiet, even quieter than the silence of the apartment demands.
Brendon walks over to him. He's meandering, weaving around objects and taking his time, like if he gives Spencer enough notice, Spencer won't bolt when he gets close. Spencer stays still.
Brendon comes up beside him, and they're both beside the couch. Brendon is pale and still, like he only gets once he's tired himself out. His eyes are dark and huge when he gets like this. Spencer doesn't really feel that tired, but he can tell that Brendon's seeing something on him, too.
Brendon must see something, because he's looking at Spencer, and Spencer can see him trying to formulate words, and it doesn't matter how he phrases it, he's still going to be asking if Spencer's okay, and Spencer still doesn't want to talk about it. Right now, he's fine. Right here, right now, here in Brendon's house, across the room from Brendon's piano, right beside Brendon. Here, Spencer's fine. He just doesn't want to go back to his empty bed.
Spencer crowds into Brendon's space. Brendon looks around, glancing at Spencer, then away again. He's holding his body strangely; his hips aligned with Spencer's, but his torso twisting away.
Spencer kisses him anyway.
He kisses Brendon and Brendon kisses back, pushing forward frantically and then just stopping, mouth lax against Spencer's.
Spencer bites his lip, hard.
Brendon moans and freezes and opens his mouth and reaches to hold Spencer back with a hand to his chest.
"No," Spencer asks, "how about this then?" and drops to his knees.
Brendon's body sways when Spencer unzips his jeans and pulls them down enough to get his cock free. Brendon mutters above him, nothing as stupid as asking what he's doing, but mindlessly, "I don't-- I don't know if. Spencer," and then Spencer has his mouth around Brendon's cock and Brendon's hands flap and grasp at air, opening and closing inches away from Spencer's head.
Spencer works his mouth down slowly, waits until Brendon's all the way hard inside of his mouth, before pulling off with a lewd pop, and saying to the nearest of Brendon's hands, "It's fine if you want to touch." Brendon moves his hand away guiltily, before he catches himself and lowers it back towards Spencer in increments. When he gets back to Spencer's head, he rests it just lightly, not even pushing his fingers into Spencer's hair.
Spencer takes his cock all the way down and swallows and swallows and swallows until he really needs to breathe again and has to pull off. Brendon makes a broken sound above him and rests his fingers lightly just under the curve of Spencer's cheek.
Spencer licks over the head of his cock until Brendon mews, working in rough circles around the head and then slowly inwards to lick salt away from the slit. Brendon's hand skirts around, brushing over the top of Spencer's head, down to the side, skimming over his ear. He doesn't push further into Spencer's mouth, doesn't tug his head down lower.
Spencer works his hand over Brendon, too. It doesn't take long after that, before Brendon's coming. Spencer swallows, before licking over Brendon's cock, hard, just to feel him shudder and twitch.
He pulls away and looks up at Brendon.
Brendon's eyes are scrunched tightly shut. It takes a minute, but eventually his hands reach out, tug up his boxers, zip up his jeans. He's still not looking at Spencer.
It's probably a good time to get up off of his knees, so Spencer stands, tries to adjust his cock subtly, hiding the movement.
He pats his hand over his pocket to reassure himself that his keys are still there, and walks to where his shoes are resting. Brendon is still in the main area; Spencer can see him standing. His shoulders slump forward, his body limp except for the places where he's curling in on himself. His head droops down, but his hair isn't long enough to actually obscure his face. Spencer wants to push his bangs aside, anyway.
He pulls on his shoes without untying the laces first, and closes Brendon's door, gently.
--
ix
They do end up going to a matinee the next afternoon. Brendon has apparently already made the promise to Ryan, and it's easier for Spencer to come than to try and explain to Ryan why there would be any reason why he couldn't.
They sit in the back row, Ryan in the middle. Spencer and Brendon both talk mainly to him, sometimes at the same time, and sometimes Ryan responds, and sometimes he's too busy sucking the sugar off of his Sour Patch Kids, and by the end of the movie, Spencer and Brendon are talking to each other again, over top of Ryan.
Spencer walks out of the theater and presses his shoulder against Brendon's. Brendon doesn't move away.
--
Spencer bows out when Ryan and Brendon head off for an early supper. He stops by a plant store on the way home, and buys a giant cactus and a huge ceramic pot to put it in. The people at the store help him carry it to his car, and Spencer doesn't think far enough ahead to plan for the trip from his car to his house.
He manages to get both inside, even though things get a little scary when he's dragging the pot up his porch steps. The only real trouble actually comes when he brushes his hand over his original cactus, and ends up with tiny needles stuck all over the back of his hand.
--
Spencer doesn't have tweezers, and the prickles are still there the next day.
He has to call Ryan, who comes over and laughs at him the entire time, hunched over and squinting at Spencer's hand as he holds his tweezers carefully.
--
x
Spencer can't sleep.
His house is too big or too small or something, and it's just agitating him to walk from room to room to room. He needs a pet, maybe; he shouldn't have let Haley keep the dog.
He gets into his car with no destination in mind and winds up pulling over in front of Ryan's building. Ryan's condo faces the street, and Spencer can see that the lights are off, and maybe he could wake up Ryan anyway, but that's never been Spencer's role. Spencer's never been the one to show up through the night. Spencer's never been the one trying to find a place for himself in other people's homes.
He leaves Ryan sleeping.
He has no intention of visiting Brendon. It's in his head that he'll go to a coffee shop, maybe. Somewhere that's open all night. He has no plans to drive to Brendon's, but here he is, standing in front of Brendon's door and staring down the rows of buttons, wondering if he should see if Brendon will buzz him up.
He ends up compromising. He sends Brendon a text, You up still?.
Yeah, comes back in a minute. Then, in quick succession, What's up?
Can't sleep, Spencer sends, and honestly, he should leave now. He doesn't know what he's doing here, even though maybe he does know what he's looking for. He's antsy, but this is not where he should be.
Brendon sends back, You wanna watch a mvoie? and Spencer thinks, I'm just going to go back home. Sends, I'm standing outside your door, instead.
Brendon buzzes him up.
--
While they're still clothed, Brendon kisses slick and wet, rubs back against the press of Spencer's knee between his legs, makes a little noise when Spencer flexes his thigh. But, by the time Spencer's got him naked and on his back, he stops. He's hard still, but he freezes awkwardly when Spencer lines up their bodies and pushes their cocks together.
This is not where Spencer should be tonight. He should be with a stranger, maybe. There's a drawer full of phone numbers in Spencer's kitchen, scraps of paper that people have slipped to him. It's not like he doesn't have options. Instead, he's here with Brendon. Sort of. He's sort of here with Brendon, but Brendon's definitely not here with him, so maybe it doesn't matter. Spencer wants to ask, you can't still think this is wrong? But Spencer hasn't had that conversation with Brendon before and he's certainly not going to have it now.
Spencer looks down at Brendon and wonders if he should just suck him off again. He wants more than that though, wants the movement of two bodies moving together, so he says, "This, okay?" and rocks his hips against Brendon's. What he wants is to fuck Brendon, or to ride him, maybe. But, there's pushing and there's pushing, and maybe Spencer should have tried to talk to him at some point, because he doesn't actually know if Brendon's done any of that before. He assumed, they all assumed, but Brendon's never actually said anything.
Brendon's still beneath him. Spencer kisses his mouth, kisses his neck, says, "C'mon. Come on. I know you've thought about this before."
Brendon jerks and makes a low, questioning noise.
Spencer presses their cheeks together, licks Brendon's earlobe. He says, "Just-- With me, okay? Just move with me," and Brendon's hips nudge up to meet his.
It takes a while before Spencer feels more than just huge and awkward, rutting up against Brendon, Brendon staying silent beneath him and working his teeth into his lower lip. A little noise slips out anyway, before Brendon gets his mouth tightly closed again, but it sets something inside of Spencer off and he wants. They manage a rhythm together, they do. Even though it takes time. They manage to work into a rhythm, and Spencer knew that it could be like this.
Brendon's sweating, and Spencer is too, probably, and Brendon's skin is smooth in places, covered with rougher hair in others. His cock lines up with Spencer's, rubs together before slipping to the side again. Spencer knows it would be easier if he wrapped a hand around the two of them, if he gave them something to thrust into, but he likes the challenge. He likes the way the muscles in his back, his thighs, his stomach are tight with the effort to keep moving. He likes the burn that's starting to set in, the way he's beginning to tremble, the way that he's starting to get tired, even under the frantic daze of urgency. He likes that he can feel the strain in Brendon, too.
Spencer holds back a little, creeps back and forth, closer and closer to orgasm each time. He want to come with Brendon, even if it's mostly because of the worry that if Brendon comes first, he'll just roll away afterward.
Spencer waits until his body buzzes with tension. Their thighs rub together, their chests. Spencer keeps touching Brendon, pressing his fingers into Brendon's side, his shoulder, his hair. Brendon's hands are pressed flat to the mattress.
Brendon does come first, but only by a matter of seconds. Spencer feels Brendon's cock jerking wetly between them, and they rub through the aftershocks together.
Spencer's body is tired, his hips and his arms and his brain.
Brendon lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. Spencer gives him a minute, before sitting up and pulling them both off the bed and to the bathroom.
Brendon likes the shower cooler than Spencer does and he reaches to turn the temperature down twice. On the third time, Spencer drops to his knees and grabs Brendon's hips when he bends forward, reaching for the faucet. Brendon jerks against him, but Spencer just tightens his grip.
Spencer runs his nose over the lower curve of Brendon's back, before ducking his head lower and biting at the top line of Brendon's thigh. Brendon freezes at the first, jerks at the second, and tries to wiggle away when Spencer starts moving his mouth upwards.
"Come on," Brendon says. "That's. Spencer, no, come on." But Spencer just adjusts his hold, still just as tight, so that he can spread Brendon open. Brendon's body is rigid and he jerks forward at the first pass of Spencer's tongue across his entrance. Spencer digs his fingers into the fleshy curve of Brendon's ass and flickers the tip of his tongue in quick circles.
Brendon tries one more time, "Spencer, this isn't-- You--" but when Spencer pulls away, it's only to say, "Brace yourself against the shower wall," before he starts in again.
Spencer can feel it when Brendon complies because the angle changes. He pushes his tongue past the tight ring and pushes and pushes until he can feel Brendon starting to relax around him, starting to push back himself.
Spencer doesn't know what he's trying to prove, if he's trying to give something to Brendon or take something for himself. The water is rushing loudly around them, dripping down Brendon's back, into Spencer's mouth. Spencer pushes his face into wet skin, even though it's hard to breathe. He can't hear Brendon through the water, doesn't know if there is anything to hear anyway. He just licks, in slow circles, in quicker flickers, in deeper thrusts. He's not thinking, just moving, and when things change a bit, Spencer has to force himself to focus, to turn his attention outwards, and even then it takes him a moment to realize that Brendon's fisting his own cock.
Spencer's nose smushes into Brendon's tail bone, he licks his tongue in long, hard strokes. Brendon comes, and Spencer has to tighten his grip on Brendon's hips to stop him from falling over. He eases Brendon down until they're both sitting on the floor of the shower. There's water everywhere, and Spencer can hardly see. Brendon's skin is the same temperature as the water and just as slick. He slumps down, resting his head on the tiled wall. Spencer sits with him, wraps his arms around his knees and waits.
--
Brendon makes Spencer coffee, then heads back to bed, leaving Spencer to let himself out.
Spencer naps in his car, in the parking garage, for twenty minutes until the coffee kicks in, then starts to drive. He loops around his block four times before finally pulling into his driveway.
The sun is just starting to rise as Spencer walks to his front door, so he sits on the steps and watches. The clouds are red and purple, jagged slices in the sky.
He walks to the kitchen for a glass of water, to his bathroom to brush his teeth, to his living room and sleeps on the couch.