The new face of | Spencer/Brendon | NC-17 | AU |
The new face of
Brendon/Spencer | NC-17 | ~ 9100 words | AU! |
“Spencer’s taking a year to find himself,” Ryan says. “That means that he’s waiting until his daddy’s grant goes through so Yale will let him in.”
Huge thanks go to provetheworst for the beta.
one
It’s Spencer’s mother’s birthday and the Smith family, which as usual includes Ryan, is watching an opera about a girl who was, “Fucking her cousin, I think,” Spencer muses as he and Ryan walk down the street away from the rest of the crowd during intermission. “Did you get that too?”
“I guess,” Ryan says, fiddling with his cumberbund.
“Was it really necessary to wear that?” Spencer asks. “And with pinstriped pants?”
“Whatever. Your dad was wearing a tux too,” Ryan says.
“It’s not like you don’t have thirty million other suits, ones that actually match.”
“Hm,” Ryan says as they turn the corner of the street and walk right into a guy who is leaning against the wall just past the corner.
“Sorry,” Spencer says, catching himself with one hand on the guy’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” says the guy.
“Why are you lurking on the street anyway?” Ryan asks suspiciously when the guy raises a hand of his own to steady Spencer.
“I wouldn’t call it lurking. It’s really more hiding than anything. My sister is getting married.”
Just ahead of them, a display of flowers spills onto the street from the open doors.
“Actually,” the guy continues, “another one of my sisters is getting married. Everyone keeps shoving the bride’s maids towards me, and I think all the perfume is giving me hives.” The guy untucks his shirt and pulls it away to reveal his torso. “Does it look like I’m getting hives to you?”
Spencer ducks his head and laughs.
“Yes,” Ryan says decisively. “I definitely see some kind of skin abnormality.”
“Play nicely,” Spencer says. “He’s Ryan. I’m Spencer.”
“I’m Brendon,” the guy says and shakes Spencer’s hand. Slowly.
Spencer says, “We’re just over watching the--”
“And I bet that intermission is over,” Ryan interrupts.
“After it’s done, come back,” Brendon says. “Please? Please, it will be awesome. Just for a bit, until the last dance is over.”
Ryan tugs Spencer away as Brendon yells to their retreating backs, “I’ll be waiting out here.”
“Pushy little fucker,” Ryan grumbles.
And yet, a couple of hours later, the three of them are sitting on a couch at a coffee shop. Spencer and Brendon have shucked off their jackets and ties. Ryan hasn’t.
“So, other than running in to boys on street corners,” Brendon says moving his eyebrows expressively, “what do you do?”
“Spencer’s taking a year to find himself,” Ryan says. “That means that he’s waiting until his daddy’s grant goes through so Yale will let him in.”
Spencer grins and shrugs. “What about you?”
“I went on a trip after high school. But then it ended up lasting through the summer into the year, so I have to wait until next year to figure out about the college thing.”
“Where’d you go?” Spencer asks.
“I don’t know. Everywhere. France for the longest.”
“Did you learn to speak French?” Spencer asks.
“Well,” Brendon says and grins widely.
“Don’t even think about saying it,” Ryan says.
Brendon laughs and clamps his mouth shut with a grin. “I do-- I don’t know, like, front of house stuff at a theater. You know, introducing the plays, thanking the sponsors.”
Brendon’s phone rings and he grins through a clearly audible tirade of, “Where have you gone? Come back immediately.”
“I guess that means the last dance is over,” he says, pulling his suit jacket back on. “My screen name is bdenurie,” he spells out. “You guys should add me.”
“It was nice meeting you,” Spencer says and waves goodbye.
“You want to call a cab?” Ryan ask Spencer. “Or should I call and see if my dad’s driver is still awake.”
“It’s late,” Spencer says. “Lets just get a cab.”
“You going to add that guy?” Ryan says.
“I don’t know,” Spencer says. “He was just being friendly, you know. It didn’t mean anything.”
--
two
Spencer works at a bookstore a few blocks away from the Ryan’s university.
He got the job because Ryan fucked one of the assistant managers and put in a good word for him. Spencer would think that fucking Ryan was reason enough not to hire one of his friends, but girls are mysterious. Spencer isn’t sure if they are still seeing each other, and he really doesn’t want to.
“Spence,” Sally says when he walks in for his Monday shift. “Can you take my shift on Thursday for me? Nobody else can take it.”
“Okay,” he says.
“You want me to work for you on Friday?”
“It doesn’t really matter,” say Spencer.
“You aren’t going to school, right?”
“No, I’m working for a year first.”
“You work twelve hours a week.”
“Well, yeah,” Spencer says and smiles broadly until she turns back to her own cash register. He works three 4-hour shifts a week, but he usually manages to drag it out to a full day away from his house. Spencer’s mother is taking a break from being a practicing doctor to write a book, which means that she is at home all the time. It’s more family togetherness than the rest of them can stand.
--
After his shift, Spencer wanders over to the campus to find Ryan. Ryan can generally be found in one of three spots fiddling around on his laptop.
Today, Spencer finds Ryan in the student lounge of the engineering building.
(“You aren’t even an engineering student,” Spencer had said the first time Ryan showed the spot to him.
“Most comfortable chairs on campus,” Ryan had replied.
“Your car seats have more padding than these do. And they heat,” Spencer said.
“Yeah, but the wireless internet doesn’t make it over to the parking lot.”)
“Hey,” Spencer says as he walks up to Ryan.
Ryan types for a minute before saying, “Brendon says ‘hi.’”
“You added him?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Ryan says.
Spencer sits down beside him.
“Brendon says there’s a show tonight, at that new place. Um. You know, the one--”
“Oh, by your dad’s building?”
“Yeah. Wanna go?”
“Okay,” Spencer says. “I’ll drive. I just got a new sound system installed in my car.”
“What time should I tell Brendon you’ll pick him up at?”
“Say 8:45 maybe. And get directions to his address.”
Ryan nods.
“How were classes?” Spencer asks.
“Eh, fine,” says Ryan. Ryan is a couple of years into an English degree, which is Ryan’s choice, before he gets an MBA, which is Ryan’s father’s choice.
--
Spencer picks up Brendon first and then drives to Ryan’s. They aren’t quite up the set of stairs leading to Ryan’s house when the front door opens and Ryan comes bursting out.
“Okay, let’s go,” he says. From behind him there is the sound of something shattering.
“What was that?” Brendon asks.
“Sounded like a plate,” Ryan says.
“Hey, just smile,” says Spencer and cuffs Ryan gently on the arm. “It’s not a big deal.”
Ryan gives a chipped nod and walks ahead to the car.
Brendon looks over at Spencer, but Spencer just shrugs one shoulder.
--
When they get to the club, Brendon grins and waves at the bouncer who lets them in without checking IDs.
They drop off their coats and walk towards the stage when a guy wearing flipflops tackles Brendon from behind.
“You came,” the guy says, attempting to put Brendon into a headlock.
“Jon, Jon stop it!” Brendon says.
Jon rubs his knuckles through Brendon’s hair one last time and lets him up.
“This asshole is Jon Walker,” Brendon says. “Jon, meet Spencer and Ryan.”
“Hey,” Jon says, reaching out and shaking each of their hands in turn.
“Jon organizes the concerts for this place. Keeps the local bands playing.”
They follow Jon up until they are close to the stage.
“I’ve never actually heard these guys before,” Jon says as the band walks on stage and starts introducing the set. “But I know one of the guys in the band.”
The band starts playing, loudly, and cuts off the end of Jon’s story.
Brendon is standing in front of Spencer. He twists his head back, tilting it up to ask, “You having fun?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says, leaning his head forward.
Brendon turns his head back around, but leaves his body pressed close to Spencer.
The song is swelling now, with a heavy bass beat that pulses through that floor and thumps up against Spencer’s feet. Spencer can feel his heart beat shuddering in his chest until it is pounding in time to the music. Spencer feels Brendon moving, raised on the balls of his feet and rocking with the song. Brendon reaches behind himself to graze the fabric of Spencer’s jeans, another point of contact between them.
Spencer shifts his weight and suddenly the curve of Brendon’s ass is fitted against Spencer’s crotch. Brendon keeps moving, keeps bouncing up and down and his body rubs against Spencer’s in a constant slide. Spencer leans forward until his chest is touching Brendon’s back and lets one hand reach forward dip under the hem of Brendon shirt and rests his fingers against the warm skin of his hip. He feels bold and anonymous in the thick crowd gathered around the stage. There are elbows pressing in to him, another shoulder that keeps bumping up against his.
He creeps his fingers higher until his hand hidden beneath Brendon’s t-shirt and feels the muscles in Brendon’s stomach twist and tighten as he rocks back against Spencer.
--
“Stop here,” Brendon says when they are halfway up his winding driveway. “Turn off the car lights.”
It’s dark without the lights. The house is somewhere off in the distance and only just visible past the curve of the road and the rows of trees. Brendon takes off his own seatbelt before reaching over to remove Spencer’s.
“Push your seat back,” Brendon says. While Spencer holds his finger to the button on the side of the seat, Brendon leans in and starts undoing Spencer’s pants.
Spencer has been hard since the club, squirming in his seat during the impossibly long drive back. He jerks, hitting his knee against the gearshift, when Brendon finally lowers his head and sucks Spencer’s cock into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Spencer says softly, letting his hands curl around the edge of his seat.
Brendon has a filthy mouth, hot and wet. His tongue is sliding in quick patterns, working lower and lower down Spencer’s cock. All the way down before pulling up to suck at the head and working his hand in tandem with his mouth.
Spencer’s legs are spread as far as they can with his jeans still around his thighs. He lets his head fall back against the headrest and watches the patterns of the leaves through the car window. The tree branches are arching over the driveway, reaching out heavily without meeting in the middle. The sky is more navy than black, and Spencer can’t see any stars.
Brendon is lying across the seats. Spencer can see his head bobbing up and down, but the angle is hiding his face. For a minute, Spencer wishes that they were lying down somewhere, that he was standing, anything so that he could see Brendon’s mouth working over his cock. He feels the muscles in his thighs tighten and manages a, “Fuck, I’m going to--” before he jerks up and comes. Brendon keeps working his hand and mouth until the pleasure crests and Spencer twitches his hips away.
When Brendon raises his head, his mouth is wet and red. Spencer thinks that maybe it was good he couldn’t watch when it was happening, because already he can feel his cock twitching back to life.
--
three
Brendon and Spencer are playing Guitar Hero. Brendon’s dad walks past the door and stops to say, “Brendon, tell Maria if your friend is going to stay for dinner.”
“I know,” Brendon says.
Brendon’s dad keeps walking.
“You want to stay?” Brendon asks. “It would just be us. My mom’s at the spa with the ladies this weekend.”
“What about your dad?”
“I don’t think he eats,” Brendon says.
Spencer laughs. “What does he do?”
“I think that he used to be an architect. But now he just spends a lot of time yelling at people on his blackberry.”
“I’ll stay,” Spencer says. “It’s not like I want to go back to my house.”
“You can sleep over tonight.”
“I don’t know,” Spencer says.
“There are free rooms,” Brendon says. “My siblings are gone; it’s an empty nest.”
“Okay,” Spencer says.
“Do you have to call someone?”
“I told my sisters’ nanny, Louise, that I was going out. She’ll let my parents know.”
--
Brendon is brushing his teeth. He leans over the sink to rinse his mouth before standing to regard Spencer.
“I’ll suck your cock,” Brendon says. “But you have to return the favor.”
Spencer sort of wants to laugh, sort of wants to say something back, but all he manages is a quick nod before Brendon is right up close to him, sliding off borrowed pajama bottoms.
Brendon’s mouth is still cool from the water for the first half minute but it warms up quickly. Spencer doesn’t know who else is still home, who could overhear, so he clenches his teeth together tightly and stays quiet.
Near Spencer’s hip there are fluffy white towels hanging in a row. He rests his hand on the rack to avoid threading his fingers through Brendon’s hair.
Spencer comes and struggles to stay standing as he rocks forward.
Brendon rises and spits into the sink before turning expectantly back towards Spencer.
Spencer’s legs feel wobbly, and it is an easy slide down to his knees on the floor. Brendon is tenting his pajama bottoms. Spencer palms him through the fabric before nudging the waistband down. He slides his mouth along the side of Brendon’s cock before letting Brendon guide him with one hand to the side of his head and thrust shallowly forward into his mouth.
Spencer lets Brendon come in his mouth, but doesn’t bother swallowing, just holds it in his mouth until Brendon stops twitching then pulls away leaving a sloppy mess still clinging to Brendon’s cock.
Spencer can taste Brendon thick and bitter over his tongue. He steals the toothbrush, watching in the mirror as Brendon grabs tissues to clean himself off.
“If my dad knew that we just did that,” Brendon says, “he would find a gun and chase us out of the house.”
Spencer doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just brushes his teeth for a long time, until his gums are tingling and all he can taste is mint.
--
Brendon walks with Spencer to one of the spare rooms. He says, “Do you have everything?”
“Yeah,” Spencer stays. He stands in the middle of the room and waits while Brendon turns down the comforters, fusses with the drapes, turns off the lamp on the beside table. The door is still open, and light slips in from the hallway.
“Okay,” Brendon says. “Okay.” He walks toward the door, but instead of leaving just closes it. Spencer reaches towards him in the sudden darkness and Brendon quickly closes the distance between them.
They kiss, open-mouthed and wetly, standing in the center of the room. Spencer pulls away and kisses Brendon’s neck where it meets the collar of his shirt. He tucks his neck into the crock of Brendon’s shoulder and presses his nose to the skin. Brendon still smell faintly of the cologne he put on that morning, and Spencer takes long slow breaths.
Brendon turns his head until he meets Spencer’s mouth again. He runs his hands down Spencer’s lower back, stroking gently before slipping under his t-shirt and sliding gently along his skin. He tucks just the tips of his fingers into the waistband of Spencer’s pajamas before surging harder against Spencer’s mouth, opening his jaw wider and licking in.
Brendon maneuvers them to the bed until they are lying side by side. He hooks his leg over Spencer’s side so that their hips can rub together.
“I can’t sleep here with you tonight,” Brendon says. “Someone could find out.”
“No,” Spencer says. “I know.” He cups one hand around the back of Brendon’s raised thigh and rubs it up until he is palming Brendon’s ass. He leans forward to kiss Brendon, tracing the line of his lips lightly with the tip of his tongue until Brendon licks out to meet him.
They rock slowly together until Spencer’s lips are tingling and cock is throbbing. His grip on Brendon’s ass tightens as he works his hips forward harder. Against his lips, he can feel Brendon moan, shuttering and coming against Spencer’s stomach. Spencer lets himself follow Brendon over the edge, and they jerk unsteadily together in the aftershocks.
“You want to move to a room with a dry bed?” Brendon asks.
“I’m okay,” Spencer says.
Brendon pecks him lightly on the lips and tugs on his pajamas. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he says, shutting the door behind him.
The sheets smell like sex, and a little bit like Brendon. Spencer rubs his nose into the pillow, still fuzzy after orgasming, and falls asleep.
--
four
“Do you seriously need four new pairs of shoes?” Brendon asks, staggering a little under the weight of the boxes as he helps Spencer carry shopping bags into the house.
“Yes,” Spencer says.
Spencer’s youngest sister is waiting by the door. “Hey, Spencer,” she says.
“What’s up?”
She shrugs.
Spencer parents are yelling upstairs.
“You said that you were going to take her.”
“I know I did, but work called. I have to head in to the office.”
“It doesn’t look right for Louise to take her all the time, it’s your daughter.”
“Why can’t you just take her?”
“I have writing to do.”
“Jesus, can’t it wait?”
“Oh, so your work is the only work that counts now. This book is just an important as whatever you manage to get up to.”
“Could your book pay for this house? One of us has to actually provide for this family.”
Spencer looks at his sister sitting on the stairs holding her music book.
“You wanna come to a piano recital?” he asks Brendon.
“Sure thing,” Brendon says.
Spencer drives, and Brendon sits in the back with Spencer’s sister, keeping a running commentary going until she starts giggling.
Spencer’s sister runs ahead into the conservatory as Spencer and Brendon follow behind.
“God, I haven’t been here for years,” Spencer says.
He and Brendon find a seat near the back and make a fuss clapping after Spencer’s sister plays.
After the recital is over, he tells Brendon that he’ll be right back and makes his way out of the recital hall into the side room where all of the adults have gathered.
“Hello, Mrs. Zachary,” he says to the piano teacher.
“Oh, it’s nice to see you again, Spencer,” she says. “Are you still playing at all?”
“A little bit,” Spencer says.
“And what else was it that you played? Percussion?”
“Oh, yeah. I guess. In high school.”
“You made it into the youth orchestra though, I thought.”
“That’s right,” he says. “Well, I just wanted to say hi.”
“Tell your sister that she did well,” Mrs. Zachary says. “It was nice to see you again.”
Spencer walks back to the recital hall and finds Brendon sitting on stage at the grand piano. He has accumulated an audience of some of the younger students and is playing showy flourishes of music, moving seamlessly from one song to the next. Spencer leans against the wall and watches him play.
When Brendon looks up and notices that Spencer has returned, he brings the show to its finale and takes a little bow to the exuberant applause of the kids who were watching.
“Sorry,” he says, jogging over to where Spencer is standing.
“I didn’t know you played,” Spencer says, nodding his sister over and walking towards the car.
“Everyone plays piano,” Brendon says. “You took lessons too, when you were a kid.”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. “But I never managed to play like that.”
--
five
“My mom’s getting married,” Ryan says.
“What, again?” Spencer says.
“I guess so.”
“To who?”
“Some guy, I guess. I’ve never met him.”
“Are you going to go?”
“I have to,” Ryan says. “You should come. You can bring Brendon if you want to.”
“Well, Brendon does love weddings.”
--
Brendon and Spencer and sitting outside, halfheartedly trying to skip rocks across the pond in Brendon’s backyard.
Spencer lies back on the grass, propping himself up on his elbows. “Do you remember in high school, waking up at 5:30 or 6:00 am to go to the student government meeting, or jazz band or SAT prep or whatever it was that morning, and just thinking, oh god, I would do anything, anything, to just get to stay in bed for a couple more hours?”
“Yeah. I remember feeling like that,” Brendon says. “I never understood why they had so many activities so early in the morning for high school students.” He pauses for a minute. “Although, there were always a million things happening after school too. It was all day long, really.”
“Getting home at nine or ten and having to start on the homework for the next day? It was just. All the time. And I’d just think, okay, wait until the concert is over, or track and field season is done, or something, and there will be a minute to just sleep. But there never was.”
Brendon nods. “12th grade was the worst for that. Everyone spent the whole year obsessing about SAT scores. And even when the results came back, they just move on to whether or not they should retake them. All those essays for college applications?” Brendon shakes his head. “I ended up getting in pretty much everywhere, but. Man, that was a lot of writing. And then I just. Left. I didn’t even send any of those ‘yes, I’ll come to your school’ things to any of the universities.”
“No?” asks Spencer.
“No. I had kind of told my parents that I wanted to go into fine arts,” Brendon says. “So they said that I had to, like, intern, at the theater for a year first. See if it’s actually what I wanted to do. See how much I would actually make employed in the arts.”
“You still going to do it next year?” Spencer asks.
“Fuck no,” Brendon says. “I’m applying for commerce. I don’t have all the prereqs yet though. So I’m just taking a couple of classes next year.”
“I didn’t get into Yale,” Spencer says, scratching the back of his neck. “But. Uh. I got into, like, Brown and stuff. I just. Never told anybody.”
“Why not?” Brendon asks.
“I just couldn’t--” Spencer trails off. “I just couldn’t. I was so tired and my mom was talking about how I should audition for the orchestra, even though I wasn’t even going into music, and about taking some summer classes before the school year started, and this was before we had even heard back from any of the universities. And, I just couldn’t do it. So when I got waitlisted at Yale, I didn’t mention any of the other letters. My parents were so busy sucking up to the board of trustees that they kind of forgot.”
“Oh wow,” Brendon says.
“I just wanted a break.” Spencer shrugs. “I thought maybe I’d start somewhere after Christmas, or something. But, then I didn’t.”
“You going to start next year though?”
“Of course,” Spencer says, sounding unconvincing. “Anyway. Ryan’s mom’s having a wedding. I mean, she’s getting married again. You wanna come with us?”
“Oh god, another wedding,” Brendon groans. “Sure, why not.”
--
six
Brendon and Ryan are waiting in Ryan’s car for Spencer so that they can drive to the airport.
“That’s new,” Brendon says, gesturing to Ryan’s iPod.
“Yeah,” Ryan says, spinning his thumb around to select a new playlist.
“What happened to the other one that you had?”
“It got broken.”
“Oh really? You just had it for a couple of months though. Would Apple not take it back?”
“I just got a new one, okay?”
“I thought you said that you didn’t like the black ones.”
“My dad bought it for me. I don’t really care either way.”
“What happened to the old one anyway?”
“It’s fine,” Ryan repeats. “We’re going to be late. I hope Spencer hurries up.”
--
Their airplane lands 45 minutes early and they take a cab to the hotel that the wedding’s happening in. They’re staying in a suite that has two bedrooms and a pullout couch in the main area. Spencer and Brendon have their suitcases set up in one of the rooms.
“Which, do you think?” Spencer asks, holding up two ties.
“The blue one, I guess,” Brendon says sitting on the bed and putting on socks.
“You can have the bed tonight,” Spencer says. “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”
“No,” Brendon says. “You’re way taller than I am, you take the bed.”
Ryan walks into the room wearing a black suit.
Spencer studies him for a minute. “Is that made out of velvet?” he finally asks.
“Yes,” Ryan says defiantly.
“It’s a May wedding,” Spencer says.
“So?”
“I thought you bought that suit for your Granddad’s funeral last December.”
Ryan ignores him. “Brendon,” he says. “You want me to do something with your hair?”
“Yeah, okay,” Brendon says. “Spence and I still have to shave and stuff though. Let me do that first.”
Ryan nods and walks into the other room to answer his ringing phone.
Spencer goes to the bathroom and starts brushing his teeth. He leaves the water running to get hot and wets a washcloth. He is holding the cloth over his face when Brendon walks in.
“Let me,” Brendon says and picks up the tube of shaving cream. He rolls it between his palms until Spencer pulls the cloth away from his face and nods.
Brendon works the soft shaving cream across Spencer’s face in soft circles before picking up the razor. He looks up at Spencer. Spencer studies him for a minute before lifting his chin to expose his neck.
Brendon runs the razor over his neck in smooth strokes. Spencer is holding his breath. The blade scraping over his stubble is loud in the room until Brendon turns on the faucet and rinses the blade.
He raises one wet hand to the back of Spencer’s neck to hold him steady as he works over Spencer’s cheeks. Spencer looks down and watches him. His eyebrows are drawn together. Spencer’s never seen him look at anything with such focus before. Spencer raises one hand as cups the elbow of the arm that is holding his face. Brendon pauses for a moment, looking up to meet Spencer’s eyes before continuing over the curve of Spencer’s upper lip.
Brendon finishes, and studies Spencer’s face for a long minute before nodding and wiping him off with the wet cloth.
Spencer reaches and cups the back of Brendon’s head before pressing down to kiss him softly.
Brendon’s face feels prickly against his smooth skin. They kiss gently, in long slow slides, just fitting their mouths together with a slight suction, until Spencer hears Ryan call for Brendon from the other room.
“Finish getting dressed,” Brendon says. “Tell him I’m in here.”
--
The three of them have a small table near the very back of the room, and it is hard to hear the speeches.
(“There just isn’t room for all of you at the front,” Ryan’s mom had said during the rehearsal dinner, and told the wedding planner to move Ryan and his little friends closer to the back.)
Ryan has wandered off to another table to chat with some other members of his family, somewhere after the first set of toasts.
Brendon glances at Spencer when the waiter walks by with a tray of champagne classes. Spencer just shrugs. Brendon grabs two and sets one in front of Spencer. Ryan walks back to the table, and Brendon ends up drinking both.
--
They leave Ryan talking with a group of cousins and head back to the hotel room. Brendon doesn’t stop touching Spencer on the way back, quick nudges against his side as they walk down the long hallway and away from the reception.
Spencer knows that he’s a bit drunk, because normally Brendon will grope, and push, and climb all over everyone but he never touches Spencer in public.
Brendon chats softly, mostly to himself, about what he thought about the cake, the flowers, the dresses that the bride’s maids were wearing.
Brendon is loose and giggling from the champagne, and presses himself up against Spencer in the elevator. He bites gently at the muscle in Spencer’s shoulder before reaching up to steal a kiss.
He pulls Spencer into a tight hug as the elevator pings, counting off the floors. Spencer fits Brendon’s head into the curve under his jaw and holds him tightly until the doors open and they walk to their room.
Once inside, Brendon starts pulling his clothes off in a sloppy striptease as he walks to the bedroom. Spencer follows behind, picking up the garments so that Ryan won’t have any surprises when he returns later.
When they get to the bedroom, Brendon is naked, save the shirt still caught around his arms. He presents his wrists to Spencer who undoes the cufflinks and tugs him free.
“You too,” Brendon says and starts undoing Spencer’s belt while Spencer works on his own shirt.
They fall to the bed, rubbing up against each other. Brendon gasps and twists until he is underneath Spencer, spreading his legs so that Spencer can fit between them.
They kiss with hard and fast tongues as Spencer rolls his hips, grinding their cocks together.
“You could--” Brendon says. “I want you to--”
“Did you bring stuff?” Spencer asks.
Brendon nods towards his bag, and Spencer doesn’t bother acting surprised.
“In the side pouch,” Brendon directs from the bed as Spencer kneels on the ground. He pulls out a tube of lubricant and tears off a condom.
He stands and walks back towards the bed. Brendon is lying down and fisting his own cock slowly. He looks up at Spencer and bends his knees, pulling them apart.
Spencer kneels on the bed, running one hand softly down the inside of Brendon’s thigh before picking up the lubricant and spreading it over his fingers. When he reaches down, Brendon tilts his hips up and pushes back against Spencer’s finger.
Spencer adds another finger, working slowly inside and watches as Brendon tugs on his cock. He pushes forward gradually until he is deep inside.
Brendon is whimpering now and Spencer pulls Brendon’s hand away from his cock gently. “Just wait,” he says.
Brendon nods, raising his hands to clutch at the pillows by his head. He digs his heels into the mattress and writhes in time with Spencer’s fingers until Spencer finally pulls his hand away and pushes in.
Brendon reaches for one of Spencer’s hands, and Spencer brings up other one up as well, threading their fingers together above Brendon’s head. Spencer rests his weight on Brendon’s open palms and rocks steadily.
Brendon lifts his knees higher up, and Spencer grinds in deep for a minute until Brendon keens and twists against the sheets.
Spencer arches his back, bring his body close to Brendon’s so that Brendon’s cock rubs against his stomach when he starts thrusting again. They are sweating now, and their bodies slide easily together.
Brendon’s chanting a steady stream of “oh, oh, oh” as he squeezes his eyes shut tightly and rocks his hips up to meet Spencer’s thrusts. He is quiet for half a moment, before hissing an aborted attempt at Spencer’s name and coming between them.
Spencer pulls away to thrust shallowly before plunging in deep. He comes with his face pressed to Brendon’s shoulder and their hands clutching tightly together.
He stays inside Brendon for a minute, trying to catch his breath. Brendon rubs one of his thumbs along the back of Spencer’s hand, which makes Spencer’s over sensitized skin tingle.
Spencer pulls out and tosses the condom in the trash bin beside the bed. He flops back down and throws an arm across Brendon’s chest. Brendon curls one hand around Spencer’s wrist and turns his head towards him.
“You want me to go sleep on the couch?” Spencer asks.
“Do you think Ryan will notice?”
“No,” Spencer says. And it’s not like he would say anything even if he did, Spencer’s brain supplies.
Brendon thinks for a minute, trailing his other hand up and down Spencer’s arm. “Okay,” he finally says. “I guess that would be okay.” Brendon looks sleepy, and he is still slurring his words, just a little bit.
Spencer leans forward to kiss him gently.
Brendon starts rolling over, pulling Spencer’s arm along with him. “You have to be the big spoon though,” Brendon says.
Spencer curls up along his back and slips his other arm underneath his neck. “Okay.”
--
Brendon wakes up cranky with a headache the next morning and refuses to get out of bed for breakfast.
Spencer and Ryan make their way down to where the rest of the family is eating, but receive dirty looks for showing up after everyone else has already ordered.
“Let’s just fuck it and find somewhere else to eat,” Ryan whispers and they leave without saying goodbye.
Ryan is tense through out the meal, tearing his croissant into tiny pieces, getting grease all over his fingers.
Spencer goes back and forth, trying to decide whether or not to bring food back for Brendon before deciding against it.
--
When they are saying goodbye to Ryan’s mom and her new husband, Spencer presses one hand to the small of Brendon’s back. Brendon steps away and readjusts his grip on his suitcase. He shakes his head and whispers, “Someone will see.”
--
Spencer sleeps for most of the plane ride back.
--
seven
Thursday night, Brendon gets a call from Spencer.
“Can you come over for a minute,” Spencer asks tensely. “Like, right now.”
Brendon drives right over. When he rings the doorbell, he realizes that he’s never actually been inside Spencer’s house before.
Spencer answers the door and pulls Brendon inside. One of Spencer’s little sisters is standing just inside the doorway.
“Okay, it’s just in here,” Spencer says, leading Brendon down the hall.
“What’s wrong?” Brendon asks.
“It’s nothing,” Spencer says, in a tone of voice that clearly indicates that it is indeed something. “There’s just a spider that we need you to kill.”
“Are you kidding me?” Brendon says. “You called me over to kill a spider?”
Spencer stops and opens the door to a room. On the wall by the light switch is the spider. It’s black and furry and roughly three inches in diameter.
“Oh,” Brendon says. “I think that would actually be classified as a tarantula.”
Brendon pulls the door closed again.
“You have to kill it,” Spencer says. “My laptop is still in that room.”
“And my binder for school,” Spencer’s sister adds.
“I’m too young to die,” Brendon says. “Dude, isn’t there anyone else in the house?”
“It’s Sunday. Everyone has the day off.”
“What about your parents?”
“Mom’s writing. That means Do Not Disturb.”
“What about your dad?” Brendon asks.
“Daddy’s living in a hotel now,” Spencer’s sister says.
“We’ve got it from here,” Spencer tells her. “You can go now.”
“Do you have any ideas,” Brendon asks once she has left.
“Calling you was my idea. It’s your turn to come up with one now.”
“Should we call someone else? Ryan maybe?”
“Dude. Be serious,” Spencer says. “What about Jon?”
“Oh hey, maybe that would work,” Brendon says and pulls out his cell phone.
Brendon and Spencer take turns opening the door to check if the spider has moved while they wait for Jon to arrive.
“That’s fucking huge,” Jon says, when he looks in. “Do you think we should call a zoo or something?”
“I think we should kill it,” Spencer says. “Please commence with that.”
“I need. I don’t know. A stick or something.”
Jon manages to kill the spider with the handle of a broomstick, though Spencer makes him hit it a few dozen times before the guts are smeared on the wall and he is satisfied that it is dead.
“Oh thank god. That was amazing, Jon,” Spencer says. “You want something to drink? Or like. A medal of valor? My first-born child? A blowjob?”
Jon laughs. Brendon narrows his eyes.
“Thanks anyway,” Jon says. “I’ve got to get back to the club though. It’s pirates night tonight. You guys should come down later. I’m pretty sure I already told Ryan about it.”
“Yeah, he said he was heading over later,” Spencer says showing Jon to the door. “We’ll see you tonight. Thanks again.”
Brendon comes up behind Spencer while Spencer locks the door. He wraps his arms, pressing himself tight to Spencer’s body. “You want to celebrate our near death experience?” he asks, thrusting playfully against Spencer.
“Quit it, my sister could still be around,” Spencer says, but he leads Brendon to his bedroom and locks the door behind him.
Brendon hugs Spender from behind again once inside of the bedroom. “I want to fuck you,” he says. “Okay?”
Spencer nods and lets Brendon push his pants down. “The stuff’s in that drawer,” he says, and lies face down on the bed.
“Just relax,” Brendon says as he starts to push forward. “I’ll be gentle.”
“I’m not a virgin,” Spencer says. But he doesn’t tell Brendon to go faster.
Brendon manages a rare display of patience, and fucks his way in smoothly until Spencer is gasping, clutching at the sheets and pushing back against him, before he actually starts thrusting. Spencer arches his back to take him in deeper and bites his pillow when Brendon reaches a hand down to jerk him off in time with his thrusts.
“Shit,” Spencer says fumbling through his closet to find costumes for himself and Brendon. “Ryan’s going to be here any minute.” He pulls out a white shirt and throws it to Brendon. “This is old, you can cut it up or something. I think I maybe have some ugly ties that we could use for sashes or whatever. And, I guess, eyeliner? That’s pirate-y, I think.”
They get dressed quickly and smear Spencer’s sister’s eyeliner over each other’s eyes.
“Oh, for Christ sakes,” Ryan says when he shows up. He pushes both of them back into Spencer’s room and spends half an hour redoing the makeup.
--
“It looks great in here,” Brendon tells Jon when they show up. The club has been decorated to look like the inside of a pirate’s ship.
“You think so?” Jon asks. “Oh shit, hold on a sec, I’ll be right back.” Jon wanders over and starts yelling at one of the bartenders.
“What was that about?” Spencer asks. “Why does he get to tell the bartenders what to do?”
“Dude, Jon’s dad owns the club,” Brendon explains.
“I thought he owned restaurants or something? Isn’t that what Jon said?”
“Usually, yeah. But he bought the club, and once Jon gets enough work experience, he’s going to sign it over to him.”
“Huh,” Spencer says. He grabs Brendon’s hand and spins him around. “Dance for me,” he says, laughing.
--
eight
“Do you want the last one?” Brendon asks.
Spencer looks at the mostly empty box of Popsicles between them. “No, I think it’s a green one. You can have it.”
Brendon unwraps the Popsicle and starts sucking on it. Spencer watches him in mild interest. It’s way too hot for anything more than that.
“Right now,” Brendon says, throwing his stick back into the box, “I wish that I were skiing.”
“Oh, that would be nice,” Spencer says.
“We should go sometime, this fall maybe. Get a whole group of people together.”
“If I can work it around my school schedule, sure,” Spencer says.
Brendon gapes. “You got into Yale?” Brendon asks.
“Yup,” Spencer says.
“When are you leaving?”
“A couple of weeks,” Spencer says. “Midway through August. That’s the soonest I could convince my parents to let me leave.”
“Oh,” Brendon says. “That’s. Soon.”
“You could come up sometimes, on weekend or whatever.”
“Yeah, right. I’d never be able to explain that to my parents,” Brendon says.
“You can’t tell them that you are coming to see me?”
“Not more than, like, once. They’d get suspicious.”
“You can just tell them that you are visiting a friend or something. Make up a lie.”
“It wouldn’t work,” Brendon says.
“We can figure something out,” Spencer says.
“Probably not,” Brendon says. He is looking straight at Spencer when he says it, which Spencer finds unsettling.
“You don’t even want to try?” Spencer asks. “It wouldn’t be worth it do you?”
“A couple of weekend fucks.” Brendon holds up one hand. “Versus getting disowned.” He holds up the other. “Gee, tough call.” He lets his hands drop back to his sides.
“Your parents are going to find out eventually,” Spencer says. “Seeing as how you never date. How are you going to explain it when you’re 30 and the one person in your family who isn’t married?”
“I’m going to get married. One day,” Brendon says.
Spencer fucked girls, almost exclusively, before he met Brendon. As far as he knows, Brendon’s only ever been with guys.
“Good luck with that,” Spencer says.
“Oh stop it,” Brendon says. “This was fun, don’t ruin it.”
“Fun?” Spencer says.
“Don’t pretend that you ever thought this was serious. It’s not like you were itching to brag about my dick up your ass to anyone either. This was just part of your little time out before you get back to real life.”
“That’s not--” Spencer starts.
“You’d fuck me on the weekend, but I’m not the one you’d be bringing home to meet your parents on Thanksgiving.”
“At least I never told anybody that you were my cousin.”
“I just said that the one time,” Brendon grits out. “And you don’t usually bother to introduce me at all.”
“Well, there’s no point in talking about this now, anyway. Is there?”
“No,” Brendon says. “There really isn’t.”
Spencer turns and walks towards his car.
--
nine
Spencer is floating on an inflatable raft in Ryan’s pool. He kicks his feet and paddles his arms until he is propelled along, then trails his fingers through the water as he moves from one end of the pool to the other. Jon is swimming laps, and every once and a while, he grabs on to Spencer’s ankle and takes him up and down the pool with him a couple of times.
Ryan is reading on a deckchair under a huge umbrella.
When a huge splash reaches Spencer, he looks up to see if Ryan has finally condescended to put his book down and join them. It turns out to just be Brendon. Spencer watches him for a minute, but he just amuses himself by doing handstands in the water. Eventually Spencer lets his eyes slide shut again.
Jon pulls himself out of the pool and walks over to Ryan.
“Lets see if we can find some lemonade,” Ryan says, and they walk into the house.
Spencer pulls one hand through the water until his raft is spinning in sloppy circles. He can hear Brendon paddling around, humming softly to himself under his breath.
Spencer closes his eyes, and is almost asleep, when his raft is pushed over and he falls into the water.
Brendon laughs and grabs the raft for himself.
“Fucking asshole,” he says when he’s found his footing and emerged from the water. He hops along until he is further in the shallow end and stand easily. “Fuck you.”
“Fuck you,” Brendon says back, circling closer to him in the water and letting the raft float away. He opens his hand and splashes water at Spencer in a large wave.
“Fucking stop it,” Spencer says, still blinking water out of his eyes.
Brendon does it again.
Spencer pushes off the bottom of the pool, throwing his body forward at Brendon until he has both hands clenched to Brendon’s shoulders, trying to push him under the water. Brendon fights back, kicking him in the leg until they both go under.
They wrestle in the water until Spencer manages to get a grip on Brendon’s slippery skin. He pushes Brendon against the side of the pool twisting one arm painfully behind his back.
“Yield, Brendon,” Spencer says.
Brendon has his free hand pressed to the edge of the pool and is trying to pull away from Spencer. Spencer yanks his arm up higher.
“Fuck,” Brendon gasps. “That hurts.”
Spencer is flush with the curve of Brendon’s back. He loosens his grip on Brendon’s arm, but instead of pulling away, Brendon just spreads his legs into a wider stance and drops his head forward exposing the sharp vertebrates in his neck.
Spencer lets go of his arm and moves his head to nuzzle at the soft, wet line of shoulder, pressing his nose to the smooth spot behind Brendon’s ear. Brendon tilts his head and grips the side of the pool with both hands now, arching his back.
Spencer is just starting to rub his hands lower down Brendon’s sides to reach for his swim trunks when he hears a noise and jerks his head up quickly.
Ryan opens the door to the house. “You guys want something to drink?”
“Coming,” Spencer says. He waits until Ryan walks back in the house to jump out of the pool, wrap a towel around his waist and follow him inside.
--
ten
Spencer leaves two weeks before the end of August to move in to his new apartment.
--
eleven
“What’re you going to do for your birthday,” Spencer asks.
He hears some shuffling on the other end of the line and glances at his cell to make sure he hasn’t lost the signal.
“Probably just have some people over, I guess,” Ryan says finally. “I have the house to myself.”
“I could fly down,” Spencer offers. “For the weekend.”
“That’d be. I mean, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s cool,” Spencer says. “I’m just going to stay at your house, okay? I’m not going to bother telling my parents that I’m coming back.”
“That’s fine,” says Ryan. “You know that there is lots of room.”
--
“What’re you doing this weekend?” Ryan asks Brendon as they walk down the street.
“I don’t know,” Brendon says. “What’s happening?”
“Spencer’s coming back for a couple of days.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. It’s my birthday on Sunday. I’m having a party for the weekend. I mean, everyone’s showing up on Friday, we’ll see how long it lasts for.”
“Your dad doesn’t care?” Brendon asks.
Ryan says, “He’s out of town for the next two weeks.”
“Oh, that’s too--”
“So are you in?” Ryan interrupts.
“Yeah,” Brendon says. “If you come and pick me up Friday afternoon, I’ll even help you set up.”
“Your car still isn’t fixed?”
“No! It’s ridiculous. Apparently they have to order the fucking bumper in from Europe? I don’t even know.”
“How long is that going to take?” Ryan asks.
“Weeks, I think. I sort of just want to ask my parents for a new car. They can give this one to one of my sisters or something. If it ever gets fixed that is.”
Ryan rolls his eyes.
“Jon said he was going to meet us by the fountain,” Ryan says and tugs Brendon’s elbow to direct him.
--
twelve
“Ohh, shiny,” Brendon says when Ryan pulls up in front of his house in a new silver Benz.
Ryan is frowning and pushing at the buttons on his key chain. “One of these should open your door. I still haven’t got it figured out.”
--
Spencer is in Ryan’s kitchen when Brendon and Ryan arrive.
“You just can’t get enough of us,” Brendon says.
“Something like that.”
Ryan says, “Mostly we just have to move all of the breakable stuff into one of the rooms that locks.”
“Anything in here that we should move?” Spencer asks.
Ryan looks around. He studies a fruit bowl on the counter. “I don’t remember if that’s glass or crystal, so I guess we could move it just in case.”
--
Jon shows up early in the night and brings a gift for Ryan and a few mixed CDs. Ryan puts them into the stereo and turns up the music loudly.
Spencer is standing close to one of the speakers when Brendon comes up to him.
Leaning in close to be heard, he says, “Are you ever going to dance with me again, Spencer Smith?”
Spencer slides his hand around to Brendon’s lower back and dips him before pulling him up quickly so that he falls in close to Spencer.
They fuck in Ryan’s huge garage, between a car covered in a black tarp and a Range Rover. The garage is lit with stadium-type bulbs, which cast a blinding white light and hum loudly. There is a roll of paper towels by Spencer’s head, and a stained blue rag.
As Brendon moves over him, Spencer turns his head and wonders if the cloth was salvaged or bought. Maybe it used to be a pair of Ryan’s thread bare pajamas until whoever does the laundry decided that it was time to rip them up and put the pieces into a drawer full of rags. Spencer’s seen that drawer before, when he and Ryan were kids and broke things that they weren’t supposed to be playing with in the first place, things they had to clean up quickly before anyone noticed.
(“These used to be sheets,” Ryan had said, running his hand over worn cotton. He said, “This was my mother’s housecoat,” holding a rag that looked even older than all the others.)
Brendon’s head is ducked down and Spencer can feel his breath by the collar of his shirt. Against the soft flesh of his thighs, Brendon’s hips feel sharp. Spencer notices the dull pain and wonders if he should bother to re-adjust. Brendon is panting now, so Spencer just bares down against him and waits.
He marvels that the music of the party doesn’t carry past the thick walls, knows there’s no chance of anyone hearing them. The hum of the lights is almost louder than the noise of their bodies slapping together.
Brendon’s thrusts have become unsteady and Spencer runs a hand down his back as Brendon shutters.
Brendon stills, leaning most of his weight down, and Spencer can’t breathe. As he tries to wiggle away, Spencer’s dick rubs up against the skin of Brendon’s stomach. Brendon takes this as a hint, rolling to the side so that he can wrap his fist around Spencer’s cock.
Spencer is staring at the rag again. He makes himself look over at Brendon, but Brendon’s watching somewhere past the slope of Spencer’s shoulder as he works his hand.
Spencer closes his eyes against the bright light. Brendon’s hand moves in a steady rhythm until Spencer feels himself orgasm, silently, spilling over Brendon’s fingers and onto his own stomach.
He lies still for a moment and listens as Brendon straightens his clothes and rises. When Spencer opens his eyes, Brendon is standing on the other side of him, fully dressed and wiping off his fingers with the blue rag before tossing it down to Spencer. Spencer wipes it over his stomach and pulls his pants up from where they were hanging off one ankle.
“I’m going to go catch up with Jon before he takes off,” Brendon says.
Spencer finishes dressing alone. He tosses the rag into a garbage can on his way out of the garage.
He’s halfway down the hallway that leads to Ryan’s kitchen when he runs into a girl he played with in youth orchestra during high school and spends the next hour chatting with her.
He sees Ryan staggering down the hall with a huge armful of empty bottles.
“I’ll see you later, okay?” he says to the girl and walks over to help Ryan with his load. They walk out the side door and dump the bottles in the recycling bin outside. A light turns on when they step out of the house, illuminating the area around them.
It’s still hot outside, warmer than the air-conditioned rooms of Ryan’s house. Spencer pushes a hand across his forehead to wipe his hair away. He sits down on the concrete and leans against the side of the house. There is a lilac bush a few meters down, and it still smells faintly sweet, though most of the little purple flowers have shriveled up and turned brown. He undoes the top three bottoms of his shirt to try to catch some of the breeze.
Ryan sits down beside him after a moment.
“How’s your new place?” Ryan asks.
“Actually, it’s pretty nice,” Spencer says. “Close to campus.”
“You like the campus?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. “I do. I met a girl at orientation. Haley.”
“Oh yeah?” Ryan says and raises his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Spencer says and smiles softly to himself.
“I can’t believe that you’ve actually left,” Ryan says.
”That was always the plan,” Spencer reminds him.
“I know.”
Ryan fiddles with his hair and Spencer stretches his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle.
“We hung the birdfeeders we made in third grade in that lilac bush,” Spencer says.
“Yeah,” Ryan says. “I think we thought it was a tree. It seemed a lot bigger then.”
Spencer hums lightly in response.
Ryan’s phone starts buzzing inside his pocket. He pulls it out and checks the screen before standing to his feet. “I’ll see you later,” he says to Spencer. “Hello?” he says into the phone and walks back into the house.
Spencer stays still and eventually the motion sensing light above his head turns off. The music from inside the house is muffled, but still audible. Spencer sits in the dark and waits for a reason to move.
Brendon/Spencer | NC-17 | ~ 9100 words | AU! |
“Spencer’s taking a year to find himself,” Ryan says. “That means that he’s waiting until his daddy’s grant goes through so Yale will let him in.”
Huge thanks go to provetheworst for the beta.
one
It’s Spencer’s mother’s birthday and the Smith family, which as usual includes Ryan, is watching an opera about a girl who was, “Fucking her cousin, I think,” Spencer muses as he and Ryan walk down the street away from the rest of the crowd during intermission. “Did you get that too?”
“I guess,” Ryan says, fiddling with his cumberbund.
“Was it really necessary to wear that?” Spencer asks. “And with pinstriped pants?”
“Whatever. Your dad was wearing a tux too,” Ryan says.
“It’s not like you don’t have thirty million other suits, ones that actually match.”
“Hm,” Ryan says as they turn the corner of the street and walk right into a guy who is leaning against the wall just past the corner.
“Sorry,” Spencer says, catching himself with one hand on the guy’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” says the guy.
“Why are you lurking on the street anyway?” Ryan asks suspiciously when the guy raises a hand of his own to steady Spencer.
“I wouldn’t call it lurking. It’s really more hiding than anything. My sister is getting married.”
Just ahead of them, a display of flowers spills onto the street from the open doors.
“Actually,” the guy continues, “another one of my sisters is getting married. Everyone keeps shoving the bride’s maids towards me, and I think all the perfume is giving me hives.” The guy untucks his shirt and pulls it away to reveal his torso. “Does it look like I’m getting hives to you?”
Spencer ducks his head and laughs.
“Yes,” Ryan says decisively. “I definitely see some kind of skin abnormality.”
“Play nicely,” Spencer says. “He’s Ryan. I’m Spencer.”
“I’m Brendon,” the guy says and shakes Spencer’s hand. Slowly.
Spencer says, “We’re just over watching the--”
“And I bet that intermission is over,” Ryan interrupts.
“After it’s done, come back,” Brendon says. “Please? Please, it will be awesome. Just for a bit, until the last dance is over.”
Ryan tugs Spencer away as Brendon yells to their retreating backs, “I’ll be waiting out here.”
“Pushy little fucker,” Ryan grumbles.
And yet, a couple of hours later, the three of them are sitting on a couch at a coffee shop. Spencer and Brendon have shucked off their jackets and ties. Ryan hasn’t.
“So, other than running in to boys on street corners,” Brendon says moving his eyebrows expressively, “what do you do?”
“Spencer’s taking a year to find himself,” Ryan says. “That means that he’s waiting until his daddy’s grant goes through so Yale will let him in.”
Spencer grins and shrugs. “What about you?”
“I went on a trip after high school. But then it ended up lasting through the summer into the year, so I have to wait until next year to figure out about the college thing.”
“Where’d you go?” Spencer asks.
“I don’t know. Everywhere. France for the longest.”
“Did you learn to speak French?” Spencer asks.
“Well,” Brendon says and grins widely.
“Don’t even think about saying it,” Ryan says.
Brendon laughs and clamps his mouth shut with a grin. “I do-- I don’t know, like, front of house stuff at a theater. You know, introducing the plays, thanking the sponsors.”
Brendon’s phone rings and he grins through a clearly audible tirade of, “Where have you gone? Come back immediately.”
“I guess that means the last dance is over,” he says, pulling his suit jacket back on. “My screen name is bdenurie,” he spells out. “You guys should add me.”
“It was nice meeting you,” Spencer says and waves goodbye.
“You want to call a cab?” Ryan ask Spencer. “Or should I call and see if my dad’s driver is still awake.”
“It’s late,” Spencer says. “Lets just get a cab.”
“You going to add that guy?” Ryan says.
“I don’t know,” Spencer says. “He was just being friendly, you know. It didn’t mean anything.”
--
two
Spencer works at a bookstore a few blocks away from the Ryan’s university.
He got the job because Ryan fucked one of the assistant managers and put in a good word for him. Spencer would think that fucking Ryan was reason enough not to hire one of his friends, but girls are mysterious. Spencer isn’t sure if they are still seeing each other, and he really doesn’t want to.
“Spence,” Sally says when he walks in for his Monday shift. “Can you take my shift on Thursday for me? Nobody else can take it.”
“Okay,” he says.
“You want me to work for you on Friday?”
“It doesn’t really matter,” say Spencer.
“You aren’t going to school, right?”
“No, I’m working for a year first.”
“You work twelve hours a week.”
“Well, yeah,” Spencer says and smiles broadly until she turns back to her own cash register. He works three 4-hour shifts a week, but he usually manages to drag it out to a full day away from his house. Spencer’s mother is taking a break from being a practicing doctor to write a book, which means that she is at home all the time. It’s more family togetherness than the rest of them can stand.
--
After his shift, Spencer wanders over to the campus to find Ryan. Ryan can generally be found in one of three spots fiddling around on his laptop.
Today, Spencer finds Ryan in the student lounge of the engineering building.
(“You aren’t even an engineering student,” Spencer had said the first time Ryan showed the spot to him.
“Most comfortable chairs on campus,” Ryan had replied.
“Your car seats have more padding than these do. And they heat,” Spencer said.
“Yeah, but the wireless internet doesn’t make it over to the parking lot.”)
“Hey,” Spencer says as he walks up to Ryan.
Ryan types for a minute before saying, “Brendon says ‘hi.’”
“You added him?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Ryan says.
Spencer sits down beside him.
“Brendon says there’s a show tonight, at that new place. Um. You know, the one--”
“Oh, by your dad’s building?”
“Yeah. Wanna go?”
“Okay,” Spencer says. “I’ll drive. I just got a new sound system installed in my car.”
“What time should I tell Brendon you’ll pick him up at?”
“Say 8:45 maybe. And get directions to his address.”
Ryan nods.
“How were classes?” Spencer asks.
“Eh, fine,” says Ryan. Ryan is a couple of years into an English degree, which is Ryan’s choice, before he gets an MBA, which is Ryan’s father’s choice.
--
Spencer picks up Brendon first and then drives to Ryan’s. They aren’t quite up the set of stairs leading to Ryan’s house when the front door opens and Ryan comes bursting out.
“Okay, let’s go,” he says. From behind him there is the sound of something shattering.
“What was that?” Brendon asks.
“Sounded like a plate,” Ryan says.
“Hey, just smile,” says Spencer and cuffs Ryan gently on the arm. “It’s not a big deal.”
Ryan gives a chipped nod and walks ahead to the car.
Brendon looks over at Spencer, but Spencer just shrugs one shoulder.
--
When they get to the club, Brendon grins and waves at the bouncer who lets them in without checking IDs.
They drop off their coats and walk towards the stage when a guy wearing flipflops tackles Brendon from behind.
“You came,” the guy says, attempting to put Brendon into a headlock.
“Jon, Jon stop it!” Brendon says.
Jon rubs his knuckles through Brendon’s hair one last time and lets him up.
“This asshole is Jon Walker,” Brendon says. “Jon, meet Spencer and Ryan.”
“Hey,” Jon says, reaching out and shaking each of their hands in turn.
“Jon organizes the concerts for this place. Keeps the local bands playing.”
They follow Jon up until they are close to the stage.
“I’ve never actually heard these guys before,” Jon says as the band walks on stage and starts introducing the set. “But I know one of the guys in the band.”
The band starts playing, loudly, and cuts off the end of Jon’s story.
Brendon is standing in front of Spencer. He twists his head back, tilting it up to ask, “You having fun?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says, leaning his head forward.
Brendon turns his head back around, but leaves his body pressed close to Spencer.
The song is swelling now, with a heavy bass beat that pulses through that floor and thumps up against Spencer’s feet. Spencer can feel his heart beat shuddering in his chest until it is pounding in time to the music. Spencer feels Brendon moving, raised on the balls of his feet and rocking with the song. Brendon reaches behind himself to graze the fabric of Spencer’s jeans, another point of contact between them.
Spencer shifts his weight and suddenly the curve of Brendon’s ass is fitted against Spencer’s crotch. Brendon keeps moving, keeps bouncing up and down and his body rubs against Spencer’s in a constant slide. Spencer leans forward until his chest is touching Brendon’s back and lets one hand reach forward dip under the hem of Brendon shirt and rests his fingers against the warm skin of his hip. He feels bold and anonymous in the thick crowd gathered around the stage. There are elbows pressing in to him, another shoulder that keeps bumping up against his.
He creeps his fingers higher until his hand hidden beneath Brendon’s t-shirt and feels the muscles in Brendon’s stomach twist and tighten as he rocks back against Spencer.
--
“Stop here,” Brendon says when they are halfway up his winding driveway. “Turn off the car lights.”
It’s dark without the lights. The house is somewhere off in the distance and only just visible past the curve of the road and the rows of trees. Brendon takes off his own seatbelt before reaching over to remove Spencer’s.
“Push your seat back,” Brendon says. While Spencer holds his finger to the button on the side of the seat, Brendon leans in and starts undoing Spencer’s pants.
Spencer has been hard since the club, squirming in his seat during the impossibly long drive back. He jerks, hitting his knee against the gearshift, when Brendon finally lowers his head and sucks Spencer’s cock into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Spencer says softly, letting his hands curl around the edge of his seat.
Brendon has a filthy mouth, hot and wet. His tongue is sliding in quick patterns, working lower and lower down Spencer’s cock. All the way down before pulling up to suck at the head and working his hand in tandem with his mouth.
Spencer’s legs are spread as far as they can with his jeans still around his thighs. He lets his head fall back against the headrest and watches the patterns of the leaves through the car window. The tree branches are arching over the driveway, reaching out heavily without meeting in the middle. The sky is more navy than black, and Spencer can’t see any stars.
Brendon is lying across the seats. Spencer can see his head bobbing up and down, but the angle is hiding his face. For a minute, Spencer wishes that they were lying down somewhere, that he was standing, anything so that he could see Brendon’s mouth working over his cock. He feels the muscles in his thighs tighten and manages a, “Fuck, I’m going to--” before he jerks up and comes. Brendon keeps working his hand and mouth until the pleasure crests and Spencer twitches his hips away.
When Brendon raises his head, his mouth is wet and red. Spencer thinks that maybe it was good he couldn’t watch when it was happening, because already he can feel his cock twitching back to life.
--
three
Brendon and Spencer are playing Guitar Hero. Brendon’s dad walks past the door and stops to say, “Brendon, tell Maria if your friend is going to stay for dinner.”
“I know,” Brendon says.
Brendon’s dad keeps walking.
“You want to stay?” Brendon asks. “It would just be us. My mom’s at the spa with the ladies this weekend.”
“What about your dad?”
“I don’t think he eats,” Brendon says.
Spencer laughs. “What does he do?”
“I think that he used to be an architect. But now he just spends a lot of time yelling at people on his blackberry.”
“I’ll stay,” Spencer says. “It’s not like I want to go back to my house.”
“You can sleep over tonight.”
“I don’t know,” Spencer says.
“There are free rooms,” Brendon says. “My siblings are gone; it’s an empty nest.”
“Okay,” Spencer says.
“Do you have to call someone?”
“I told my sisters’ nanny, Louise, that I was going out. She’ll let my parents know.”
--
Brendon is brushing his teeth. He leans over the sink to rinse his mouth before standing to regard Spencer.
“I’ll suck your cock,” Brendon says. “But you have to return the favor.”
Spencer sort of wants to laugh, sort of wants to say something back, but all he manages is a quick nod before Brendon is right up close to him, sliding off borrowed pajama bottoms.
Brendon’s mouth is still cool from the water for the first half minute but it warms up quickly. Spencer doesn’t know who else is still home, who could overhear, so he clenches his teeth together tightly and stays quiet.
Near Spencer’s hip there are fluffy white towels hanging in a row. He rests his hand on the rack to avoid threading his fingers through Brendon’s hair.
Spencer comes and struggles to stay standing as he rocks forward.
Brendon rises and spits into the sink before turning expectantly back towards Spencer.
Spencer’s legs feel wobbly, and it is an easy slide down to his knees on the floor. Brendon is tenting his pajama bottoms. Spencer palms him through the fabric before nudging the waistband down. He slides his mouth along the side of Brendon’s cock before letting Brendon guide him with one hand to the side of his head and thrust shallowly forward into his mouth.
Spencer lets Brendon come in his mouth, but doesn’t bother swallowing, just holds it in his mouth until Brendon stops twitching then pulls away leaving a sloppy mess still clinging to Brendon’s cock.
Spencer can taste Brendon thick and bitter over his tongue. He steals the toothbrush, watching in the mirror as Brendon grabs tissues to clean himself off.
“If my dad knew that we just did that,” Brendon says, “he would find a gun and chase us out of the house.”
Spencer doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just brushes his teeth for a long time, until his gums are tingling and all he can taste is mint.
--
Brendon walks with Spencer to one of the spare rooms. He says, “Do you have everything?”
“Yeah,” Spencer stays. He stands in the middle of the room and waits while Brendon turns down the comforters, fusses with the drapes, turns off the lamp on the beside table. The door is still open, and light slips in from the hallway.
“Okay,” Brendon says. “Okay.” He walks toward the door, but instead of leaving just closes it. Spencer reaches towards him in the sudden darkness and Brendon quickly closes the distance between them.
They kiss, open-mouthed and wetly, standing in the center of the room. Spencer pulls away and kisses Brendon’s neck where it meets the collar of his shirt. He tucks his neck into the crock of Brendon’s shoulder and presses his nose to the skin. Brendon still smell faintly of the cologne he put on that morning, and Spencer takes long slow breaths.
Brendon turns his head until he meets Spencer’s mouth again. He runs his hands down Spencer’s lower back, stroking gently before slipping under his t-shirt and sliding gently along his skin. He tucks just the tips of his fingers into the waistband of Spencer’s pajamas before surging harder against Spencer’s mouth, opening his jaw wider and licking in.
Brendon maneuvers them to the bed until they are lying side by side. He hooks his leg over Spencer’s side so that their hips can rub together.
“I can’t sleep here with you tonight,” Brendon says. “Someone could find out.”
“No,” Spencer says. “I know.” He cups one hand around the back of Brendon’s raised thigh and rubs it up until he is palming Brendon’s ass. He leans forward to kiss Brendon, tracing the line of his lips lightly with the tip of his tongue until Brendon licks out to meet him.
They rock slowly together until Spencer’s lips are tingling and cock is throbbing. His grip on Brendon’s ass tightens as he works his hips forward harder. Against his lips, he can feel Brendon moan, shuttering and coming against Spencer’s stomach. Spencer lets himself follow Brendon over the edge, and they jerk unsteadily together in the aftershocks.
“You want to move to a room with a dry bed?” Brendon asks.
“I’m okay,” Spencer says.
Brendon pecks him lightly on the lips and tugs on his pajamas. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he says, shutting the door behind him.
The sheets smell like sex, and a little bit like Brendon. Spencer rubs his nose into the pillow, still fuzzy after orgasming, and falls asleep.
--
four
“Do you seriously need four new pairs of shoes?” Brendon asks, staggering a little under the weight of the boxes as he helps Spencer carry shopping bags into the house.
“Yes,” Spencer says.
Spencer’s youngest sister is waiting by the door. “Hey, Spencer,” she says.
“What’s up?”
She shrugs.
Spencer parents are yelling upstairs.
“You said that you were going to take her.”
“I know I did, but work called. I have to head in to the office.”
“It doesn’t look right for Louise to take her all the time, it’s your daughter.”
“Why can’t you just take her?”
“I have writing to do.”
“Jesus, can’t it wait?”
“Oh, so your work is the only work that counts now. This book is just an important as whatever you manage to get up to.”
“Could your book pay for this house? One of us has to actually provide for this family.”
Spencer looks at his sister sitting on the stairs holding her music book.
“You wanna come to a piano recital?” he asks Brendon.
“Sure thing,” Brendon says.
Spencer drives, and Brendon sits in the back with Spencer’s sister, keeping a running commentary going until she starts giggling.
Spencer’s sister runs ahead into the conservatory as Spencer and Brendon follow behind.
“God, I haven’t been here for years,” Spencer says.
He and Brendon find a seat near the back and make a fuss clapping after Spencer’s sister plays.
After the recital is over, he tells Brendon that he’ll be right back and makes his way out of the recital hall into the side room where all of the adults have gathered.
“Hello, Mrs. Zachary,” he says to the piano teacher.
“Oh, it’s nice to see you again, Spencer,” she says. “Are you still playing at all?”
“A little bit,” Spencer says.
“And what else was it that you played? Percussion?”
“Oh, yeah. I guess. In high school.”
“You made it into the youth orchestra though, I thought.”
“That’s right,” he says. “Well, I just wanted to say hi.”
“Tell your sister that she did well,” Mrs. Zachary says. “It was nice to see you again.”
Spencer walks back to the recital hall and finds Brendon sitting on stage at the grand piano. He has accumulated an audience of some of the younger students and is playing showy flourishes of music, moving seamlessly from one song to the next. Spencer leans against the wall and watches him play.
When Brendon looks up and notices that Spencer has returned, he brings the show to its finale and takes a little bow to the exuberant applause of the kids who were watching.
“Sorry,” he says, jogging over to where Spencer is standing.
“I didn’t know you played,” Spencer says, nodding his sister over and walking towards the car.
“Everyone plays piano,” Brendon says. “You took lessons too, when you were a kid.”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. “But I never managed to play like that.”
--
five
“My mom’s getting married,” Ryan says.
“What, again?” Spencer says.
“I guess so.”
“To who?”
“Some guy, I guess. I’ve never met him.”
“Are you going to go?”
“I have to,” Ryan says. “You should come. You can bring Brendon if you want to.”
“Well, Brendon does love weddings.”
--
Brendon and Spencer and sitting outside, halfheartedly trying to skip rocks across the pond in Brendon’s backyard.
Spencer lies back on the grass, propping himself up on his elbows. “Do you remember in high school, waking up at 5:30 or 6:00 am to go to the student government meeting, or jazz band or SAT prep or whatever it was that morning, and just thinking, oh god, I would do anything, anything, to just get to stay in bed for a couple more hours?”
“Yeah. I remember feeling like that,” Brendon says. “I never understood why they had so many activities so early in the morning for high school students.” He pauses for a minute. “Although, there were always a million things happening after school too. It was all day long, really.”
“Getting home at nine or ten and having to start on the homework for the next day? It was just. All the time. And I’d just think, okay, wait until the concert is over, or track and field season is done, or something, and there will be a minute to just sleep. But there never was.”
Brendon nods. “12th grade was the worst for that. Everyone spent the whole year obsessing about SAT scores. And even when the results came back, they just move on to whether or not they should retake them. All those essays for college applications?” Brendon shakes his head. “I ended up getting in pretty much everywhere, but. Man, that was a lot of writing. And then I just. Left. I didn’t even send any of those ‘yes, I’ll come to your school’ things to any of the universities.”
“No?” asks Spencer.
“No. I had kind of told my parents that I wanted to go into fine arts,” Brendon says. “So they said that I had to, like, intern, at the theater for a year first. See if it’s actually what I wanted to do. See how much I would actually make employed in the arts.”
“You still going to do it next year?” Spencer asks.
“Fuck no,” Brendon says. “I’m applying for commerce. I don’t have all the prereqs yet though. So I’m just taking a couple of classes next year.”
“I didn’t get into Yale,” Spencer says, scratching the back of his neck. “But. Uh. I got into, like, Brown and stuff. I just. Never told anybody.”
“Why not?” Brendon asks.
“I just couldn’t--” Spencer trails off. “I just couldn’t. I was so tired and my mom was talking about how I should audition for the orchestra, even though I wasn’t even going into music, and about taking some summer classes before the school year started, and this was before we had even heard back from any of the universities. And, I just couldn’t do it. So when I got waitlisted at Yale, I didn’t mention any of the other letters. My parents were so busy sucking up to the board of trustees that they kind of forgot.”
“Oh wow,” Brendon says.
“I just wanted a break.” Spencer shrugs. “I thought maybe I’d start somewhere after Christmas, or something. But, then I didn’t.”
“You going to start next year though?”
“Of course,” Spencer says, sounding unconvincing. “Anyway. Ryan’s mom’s having a wedding. I mean, she’s getting married again. You wanna come with us?”
“Oh god, another wedding,” Brendon groans. “Sure, why not.”
--
six
Brendon and Ryan are waiting in Ryan’s car for Spencer so that they can drive to the airport.
“That’s new,” Brendon says, gesturing to Ryan’s iPod.
“Yeah,” Ryan says, spinning his thumb around to select a new playlist.
“What happened to the other one that you had?”
“It got broken.”
“Oh really? You just had it for a couple of months though. Would Apple not take it back?”
“I just got a new one, okay?”
“I thought you said that you didn’t like the black ones.”
“My dad bought it for me. I don’t really care either way.”
“What happened to the old one anyway?”
“It’s fine,” Ryan repeats. “We’re going to be late. I hope Spencer hurries up.”
--
Their airplane lands 45 minutes early and they take a cab to the hotel that the wedding’s happening in. They’re staying in a suite that has two bedrooms and a pullout couch in the main area. Spencer and Brendon have their suitcases set up in one of the rooms.
“Which, do you think?” Spencer asks, holding up two ties.
“The blue one, I guess,” Brendon says sitting on the bed and putting on socks.
“You can have the bed tonight,” Spencer says. “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”
“No,” Brendon says. “You’re way taller than I am, you take the bed.”
Ryan walks into the room wearing a black suit.
Spencer studies him for a minute. “Is that made out of velvet?” he finally asks.
“Yes,” Ryan says defiantly.
“It’s a May wedding,” Spencer says.
“So?”
“I thought you bought that suit for your Granddad’s funeral last December.”
Ryan ignores him. “Brendon,” he says. “You want me to do something with your hair?”
“Yeah, okay,” Brendon says. “Spence and I still have to shave and stuff though. Let me do that first.”
Ryan nods and walks into the other room to answer his ringing phone.
Spencer goes to the bathroom and starts brushing his teeth. He leaves the water running to get hot and wets a washcloth. He is holding the cloth over his face when Brendon walks in.
“Let me,” Brendon says and picks up the tube of shaving cream. He rolls it between his palms until Spencer pulls the cloth away from his face and nods.
Brendon works the soft shaving cream across Spencer’s face in soft circles before picking up the razor. He looks up at Spencer. Spencer studies him for a minute before lifting his chin to expose his neck.
Brendon runs the razor over his neck in smooth strokes. Spencer is holding his breath. The blade scraping over his stubble is loud in the room until Brendon turns on the faucet and rinses the blade.
He raises one wet hand to the back of Spencer’s neck to hold him steady as he works over Spencer’s cheeks. Spencer looks down and watches him. His eyebrows are drawn together. Spencer’s never seen him look at anything with such focus before. Spencer raises one hand as cups the elbow of the arm that is holding his face. Brendon pauses for a moment, looking up to meet Spencer’s eyes before continuing over the curve of Spencer’s upper lip.
Brendon finishes, and studies Spencer’s face for a long minute before nodding and wiping him off with the wet cloth.
Spencer reaches and cups the back of Brendon’s head before pressing down to kiss him softly.
Brendon’s face feels prickly against his smooth skin. They kiss gently, in long slow slides, just fitting their mouths together with a slight suction, until Spencer hears Ryan call for Brendon from the other room.
“Finish getting dressed,” Brendon says. “Tell him I’m in here.”
--
The three of them have a small table near the very back of the room, and it is hard to hear the speeches.
(“There just isn’t room for all of you at the front,” Ryan’s mom had said during the rehearsal dinner, and told the wedding planner to move Ryan and his little friends closer to the back.)
Ryan has wandered off to another table to chat with some other members of his family, somewhere after the first set of toasts.
Brendon glances at Spencer when the waiter walks by with a tray of champagne classes. Spencer just shrugs. Brendon grabs two and sets one in front of Spencer. Ryan walks back to the table, and Brendon ends up drinking both.
--
They leave Ryan talking with a group of cousins and head back to the hotel room. Brendon doesn’t stop touching Spencer on the way back, quick nudges against his side as they walk down the long hallway and away from the reception.
Spencer knows that he’s a bit drunk, because normally Brendon will grope, and push, and climb all over everyone but he never touches Spencer in public.
Brendon chats softly, mostly to himself, about what he thought about the cake, the flowers, the dresses that the bride’s maids were wearing.
Brendon is loose and giggling from the champagne, and presses himself up against Spencer in the elevator. He bites gently at the muscle in Spencer’s shoulder before reaching up to steal a kiss.
He pulls Spencer into a tight hug as the elevator pings, counting off the floors. Spencer fits Brendon’s head into the curve under his jaw and holds him tightly until the doors open and they walk to their room.
Once inside, Brendon starts pulling his clothes off in a sloppy striptease as he walks to the bedroom. Spencer follows behind, picking up the garments so that Ryan won’t have any surprises when he returns later.
When they get to the bedroom, Brendon is naked, save the shirt still caught around his arms. He presents his wrists to Spencer who undoes the cufflinks and tugs him free.
“You too,” Brendon says and starts undoing Spencer’s belt while Spencer works on his own shirt.
They fall to the bed, rubbing up against each other. Brendon gasps and twists until he is underneath Spencer, spreading his legs so that Spencer can fit between them.
They kiss with hard and fast tongues as Spencer rolls his hips, grinding their cocks together.
“You could--” Brendon says. “I want you to--”
“Did you bring stuff?” Spencer asks.
Brendon nods towards his bag, and Spencer doesn’t bother acting surprised.
“In the side pouch,” Brendon directs from the bed as Spencer kneels on the ground. He pulls out a tube of lubricant and tears off a condom.
He stands and walks back towards the bed. Brendon is lying down and fisting his own cock slowly. He looks up at Spencer and bends his knees, pulling them apart.
Spencer kneels on the bed, running one hand softly down the inside of Brendon’s thigh before picking up the lubricant and spreading it over his fingers. When he reaches down, Brendon tilts his hips up and pushes back against Spencer’s finger.
Spencer adds another finger, working slowly inside and watches as Brendon tugs on his cock. He pushes forward gradually until he is deep inside.
Brendon is whimpering now and Spencer pulls Brendon’s hand away from his cock gently. “Just wait,” he says.
Brendon nods, raising his hands to clutch at the pillows by his head. He digs his heels into the mattress and writhes in time with Spencer’s fingers until Spencer finally pulls his hand away and pushes in.
Brendon reaches for one of Spencer’s hands, and Spencer brings up other one up as well, threading their fingers together above Brendon’s head. Spencer rests his weight on Brendon’s open palms and rocks steadily.
Brendon lifts his knees higher up, and Spencer grinds in deep for a minute until Brendon keens and twists against the sheets.
Spencer arches his back, bring his body close to Brendon’s so that Brendon’s cock rubs against his stomach when he starts thrusting again. They are sweating now, and their bodies slide easily together.
Brendon’s chanting a steady stream of “oh, oh, oh” as he squeezes his eyes shut tightly and rocks his hips up to meet Spencer’s thrusts. He is quiet for half a moment, before hissing an aborted attempt at Spencer’s name and coming between them.
Spencer pulls away to thrust shallowly before plunging in deep. He comes with his face pressed to Brendon’s shoulder and their hands clutching tightly together.
He stays inside Brendon for a minute, trying to catch his breath. Brendon rubs one of his thumbs along the back of Spencer’s hand, which makes Spencer’s over sensitized skin tingle.
Spencer pulls out and tosses the condom in the trash bin beside the bed. He flops back down and throws an arm across Brendon’s chest. Brendon curls one hand around Spencer’s wrist and turns his head towards him.
“You want me to go sleep on the couch?” Spencer asks.
“Do you think Ryan will notice?”
“No,” Spencer says. And it’s not like he would say anything even if he did, Spencer’s brain supplies.
Brendon thinks for a minute, trailing his other hand up and down Spencer’s arm. “Okay,” he finally says. “I guess that would be okay.” Brendon looks sleepy, and he is still slurring his words, just a little bit.
Spencer leans forward to kiss him gently.
Brendon starts rolling over, pulling Spencer’s arm along with him. “You have to be the big spoon though,” Brendon says.
Spencer curls up along his back and slips his other arm underneath his neck. “Okay.”
--
Brendon wakes up cranky with a headache the next morning and refuses to get out of bed for breakfast.
Spencer and Ryan make their way down to where the rest of the family is eating, but receive dirty looks for showing up after everyone else has already ordered.
“Let’s just fuck it and find somewhere else to eat,” Ryan whispers and they leave without saying goodbye.
Ryan is tense through out the meal, tearing his croissant into tiny pieces, getting grease all over his fingers.
Spencer goes back and forth, trying to decide whether or not to bring food back for Brendon before deciding against it.
--
When they are saying goodbye to Ryan’s mom and her new husband, Spencer presses one hand to the small of Brendon’s back. Brendon steps away and readjusts his grip on his suitcase. He shakes his head and whispers, “Someone will see.”
--
Spencer sleeps for most of the plane ride back.
--
seven
Thursday night, Brendon gets a call from Spencer.
“Can you come over for a minute,” Spencer asks tensely. “Like, right now.”
Brendon drives right over. When he rings the doorbell, he realizes that he’s never actually been inside Spencer’s house before.
Spencer answers the door and pulls Brendon inside. One of Spencer’s little sisters is standing just inside the doorway.
“Okay, it’s just in here,” Spencer says, leading Brendon down the hall.
“What’s wrong?” Brendon asks.
“It’s nothing,” Spencer says, in a tone of voice that clearly indicates that it is indeed something. “There’s just a spider that we need you to kill.”
“Are you kidding me?” Brendon says. “You called me over to kill a spider?”
Spencer stops and opens the door to a room. On the wall by the light switch is the spider. It’s black and furry and roughly three inches in diameter.
“Oh,” Brendon says. “I think that would actually be classified as a tarantula.”
Brendon pulls the door closed again.
“You have to kill it,” Spencer says. “My laptop is still in that room.”
“And my binder for school,” Spencer’s sister adds.
“I’m too young to die,” Brendon says. “Dude, isn’t there anyone else in the house?”
“It’s Sunday. Everyone has the day off.”
“What about your parents?”
“Mom’s writing. That means Do Not Disturb.”
“What about your dad?” Brendon asks.
“Daddy’s living in a hotel now,” Spencer’s sister says.
“We’ve got it from here,” Spencer tells her. “You can go now.”
“Do you have any ideas,” Brendon asks once she has left.
“Calling you was my idea. It’s your turn to come up with one now.”
“Should we call someone else? Ryan maybe?”
“Dude. Be serious,” Spencer says. “What about Jon?”
“Oh hey, maybe that would work,” Brendon says and pulls out his cell phone.
Brendon and Spencer take turns opening the door to check if the spider has moved while they wait for Jon to arrive.
“That’s fucking huge,” Jon says, when he looks in. “Do you think we should call a zoo or something?”
“I think we should kill it,” Spencer says. “Please commence with that.”
“I need. I don’t know. A stick or something.”
Jon manages to kill the spider with the handle of a broomstick, though Spencer makes him hit it a few dozen times before the guts are smeared on the wall and he is satisfied that it is dead.
“Oh thank god. That was amazing, Jon,” Spencer says. “You want something to drink? Or like. A medal of valor? My first-born child? A blowjob?”
Jon laughs. Brendon narrows his eyes.
“Thanks anyway,” Jon says. “I’ve got to get back to the club though. It’s pirates night tonight. You guys should come down later. I’m pretty sure I already told Ryan about it.”
“Yeah, he said he was heading over later,” Spencer says showing Jon to the door. “We’ll see you tonight. Thanks again.”
Brendon comes up behind Spencer while Spencer locks the door. He wraps his arms, pressing himself tight to Spencer’s body. “You want to celebrate our near death experience?” he asks, thrusting playfully against Spencer.
“Quit it, my sister could still be around,” Spencer says, but he leads Brendon to his bedroom and locks the door behind him.
Brendon hugs Spender from behind again once inside of the bedroom. “I want to fuck you,” he says. “Okay?”
Spencer nods and lets Brendon push his pants down. “The stuff’s in that drawer,” he says, and lies face down on the bed.
“Just relax,” Brendon says as he starts to push forward. “I’ll be gentle.”
“I’m not a virgin,” Spencer says. But he doesn’t tell Brendon to go faster.
Brendon manages a rare display of patience, and fucks his way in smoothly until Spencer is gasping, clutching at the sheets and pushing back against him, before he actually starts thrusting. Spencer arches his back to take him in deeper and bites his pillow when Brendon reaches a hand down to jerk him off in time with his thrusts.
“Shit,” Spencer says fumbling through his closet to find costumes for himself and Brendon. “Ryan’s going to be here any minute.” He pulls out a white shirt and throws it to Brendon. “This is old, you can cut it up or something. I think I maybe have some ugly ties that we could use for sashes or whatever. And, I guess, eyeliner? That’s pirate-y, I think.”
They get dressed quickly and smear Spencer’s sister’s eyeliner over each other’s eyes.
“Oh, for Christ sakes,” Ryan says when he shows up. He pushes both of them back into Spencer’s room and spends half an hour redoing the makeup.
--
“It looks great in here,” Brendon tells Jon when they show up. The club has been decorated to look like the inside of a pirate’s ship.
“You think so?” Jon asks. “Oh shit, hold on a sec, I’ll be right back.” Jon wanders over and starts yelling at one of the bartenders.
“What was that about?” Spencer asks. “Why does he get to tell the bartenders what to do?”
“Dude, Jon’s dad owns the club,” Brendon explains.
“I thought he owned restaurants or something? Isn’t that what Jon said?”
“Usually, yeah. But he bought the club, and once Jon gets enough work experience, he’s going to sign it over to him.”
“Huh,” Spencer says. He grabs Brendon’s hand and spins him around. “Dance for me,” he says, laughing.
--
eight
“Do you want the last one?” Brendon asks.
Spencer looks at the mostly empty box of Popsicles between them. “No, I think it’s a green one. You can have it.”
Brendon unwraps the Popsicle and starts sucking on it. Spencer watches him in mild interest. It’s way too hot for anything more than that.
“Right now,” Brendon says, throwing his stick back into the box, “I wish that I were skiing.”
“Oh, that would be nice,” Spencer says.
“We should go sometime, this fall maybe. Get a whole group of people together.”
“If I can work it around my school schedule, sure,” Spencer says.
Brendon gapes. “You got into Yale?” Brendon asks.
“Yup,” Spencer says.
“When are you leaving?”
“A couple of weeks,” Spencer says. “Midway through August. That’s the soonest I could convince my parents to let me leave.”
“Oh,” Brendon says. “That’s. Soon.”
“You could come up sometimes, on weekend or whatever.”
“Yeah, right. I’d never be able to explain that to my parents,” Brendon says.
“You can’t tell them that you are coming to see me?”
“Not more than, like, once. They’d get suspicious.”
“You can just tell them that you are visiting a friend or something. Make up a lie.”
“It wouldn’t work,” Brendon says.
“We can figure something out,” Spencer says.
“Probably not,” Brendon says. He is looking straight at Spencer when he says it, which Spencer finds unsettling.
“You don’t even want to try?” Spencer asks. “It wouldn’t be worth it do you?”
“A couple of weekend fucks.” Brendon holds up one hand. “Versus getting disowned.” He holds up the other. “Gee, tough call.” He lets his hands drop back to his sides.
“Your parents are going to find out eventually,” Spencer says. “Seeing as how you never date. How are you going to explain it when you’re 30 and the one person in your family who isn’t married?”
“I’m going to get married. One day,” Brendon says.
Spencer fucked girls, almost exclusively, before he met Brendon. As far as he knows, Brendon’s only ever been with guys.
“Good luck with that,” Spencer says.
“Oh stop it,” Brendon says. “This was fun, don’t ruin it.”
“Fun?” Spencer says.
“Don’t pretend that you ever thought this was serious. It’s not like you were itching to brag about my dick up your ass to anyone either. This was just part of your little time out before you get back to real life.”
“That’s not--” Spencer starts.
“You’d fuck me on the weekend, but I’m not the one you’d be bringing home to meet your parents on Thanksgiving.”
“At least I never told anybody that you were my cousin.”
“I just said that the one time,” Brendon grits out. “And you don’t usually bother to introduce me at all.”
“Well, there’s no point in talking about this now, anyway. Is there?”
“No,” Brendon says. “There really isn’t.”
Spencer turns and walks towards his car.
--
nine
Spencer is floating on an inflatable raft in Ryan’s pool. He kicks his feet and paddles his arms until he is propelled along, then trails his fingers through the water as he moves from one end of the pool to the other. Jon is swimming laps, and every once and a while, he grabs on to Spencer’s ankle and takes him up and down the pool with him a couple of times.
Ryan is reading on a deckchair under a huge umbrella.
When a huge splash reaches Spencer, he looks up to see if Ryan has finally condescended to put his book down and join them. It turns out to just be Brendon. Spencer watches him for a minute, but he just amuses himself by doing handstands in the water. Eventually Spencer lets his eyes slide shut again.
Jon pulls himself out of the pool and walks over to Ryan.
“Lets see if we can find some lemonade,” Ryan says, and they walk into the house.
Spencer pulls one hand through the water until his raft is spinning in sloppy circles. He can hear Brendon paddling around, humming softly to himself under his breath.
Spencer closes his eyes, and is almost asleep, when his raft is pushed over and he falls into the water.
Brendon laughs and grabs the raft for himself.
“Fucking asshole,” he says when he’s found his footing and emerged from the water. He hops along until he is further in the shallow end and stand easily. “Fuck you.”
“Fuck you,” Brendon says back, circling closer to him in the water and letting the raft float away. He opens his hand and splashes water at Spencer in a large wave.
“Fucking stop it,” Spencer says, still blinking water out of his eyes.
Brendon does it again.
Spencer pushes off the bottom of the pool, throwing his body forward at Brendon until he has both hands clenched to Brendon’s shoulders, trying to push him under the water. Brendon fights back, kicking him in the leg until they both go under.
They wrestle in the water until Spencer manages to get a grip on Brendon’s slippery skin. He pushes Brendon against the side of the pool twisting one arm painfully behind his back.
“Yield, Brendon,” Spencer says.
Brendon has his free hand pressed to the edge of the pool and is trying to pull away from Spencer. Spencer yanks his arm up higher.
“Fuck,” Brendon gasps. “That hurts.”
Spencer is flush with the curve of Brendon’s back. He loosens his grip on Brendon’s arm, but instead of pulling away, Brendon just spreads his legs into a wider stance and drops his head forward exposing the sharp vertebrates in his neck.
Spencer lets go of his arm and moves his head to nuzzle at the soft, wet line of shoulder, pressing his nose to the smooth spot behind Brendon’s ear. Brendon tilts his head and grips the side of the pool with both hands now, arching his back.
Spencer is just starting to rub his hands lower down Brendon’s sides to reach for his swim trunks when he hears a noise and jerks his head up quickly.
Ryan opens the door to the house. “You guys want something to drink?”
“Coming,” Spencer says. He waits until Ryan walks back in the house to jump out of the pool, wrap a towel around his waist and follow him inside.
--
ten
Spencer leaves two weeks before the end of August to move in to his new apartment.
--
eleven
“What’re you going to do for your birthday,” Spencer asks.
He hears some shuffling on the other end of the line and glances at his cell to make sure he hasn’t lost the signal.
“Probably just have some people over, I guess,” Ryan says finally. “I have the house to myself.”
“I could fly down,” Spencer offers. “For the weekend.”
“That’d be. I mean, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s cool,” Spencer says. “I’m just going to stay at your house, okay? I’m not going to bother telling my parents that I’m coming back.”
“That’s fine,” says Ryan. “You know that there is lots of room.”
--
“What’re you doing this weekend?” Ryan asks Brendon as they walk down the street.
“I don’t know,” Brendon says. “What’s happening?”
“Spencer’s coming back for a couple of days.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. It’s my birthday on Sunday. I’m having a party for the weekend. I mean, everyone’s showing up on Friday, we’ll see how long it lasts for.”
“Your dad doesn’t care?” Brendon asks.
Ryan says, “He’s out of town for the next two weeks.”
“Oh, that’s too--”
“So are you in?” Ryan interrupts.
“Yeah,” Brendon says. “If you come and pick me up Friday afternoon, I’ll even help you set up.”
“Your car still isn’t fixed?”
“No! It’s ridiculous. Apparently they have to order the fucking bumper in from Europe? I don’t even know.”
“How long is that going to take?” Ryan asks.
“Weeks, I think. I sort of just want to ask my parents for a new car. They can give this one to one of my sisters or something. If it ever gets fixed that is.”
Ryan rolls his eyes.
“Jon said he was going to meet us by the fountain,” Ryan says and tugs Brendon’s elbow to direct him.
--
twelve
“Ohh, shiny,” Brendon says when Ryan pulls up in front of his house in a new silver Benz.
Ryan is frowning and pushing at the buttons on his key chain. “One of these should open your door. I still haven’t got it figured out.”
--
Spencer is in Ryan’s kitchen when Brendon and Ryan arrive.
“You just can’t get enough of us,” Brendon says.
“Something like that.”
Ryan says, “Mostly we just have to move all of the breakable stuff into one of the rooms that locks.”
“Anything in here that we should move?” Spencer asks.
Ryan looks around. He studies a fruit bowl on the counter. “I don’t remember if that’s glass or crystal, so I guess we could move it just in case.”
--
Jon shows up early in the night and brings a gift for Ryan and a few mixed CDs. Ryan puts them into the stereo and turns up the music loudly.
Spencer is standing close to one of the speakers when Brendon comes up to him.
Leaning in close to be heard, he says, “Are you ever going to dance with me again, Spencer Smith?”
Spencer slides his hand around to Brendon’s lower back and dips him before pulling him up quickly so that he falls in close to Spencer.
They fuck in Ryan’s huge garage, between a car covered in a black tarp and a Range Rover. The garage is lit with stadium-type bulbs, which cast a blinding white light and hum loudly. There is a roll of paper towels by Spencer’s head, and a stained blue rag.
As Brendon moves over him, Spencer turns his head and wonders if the cloth was salvaged or bought. Maybe it used to be a pair of Ryan’s thread bare pajamas until whoever does the laundry decided that it was time to rip them up and put the pieces into a drawer full of rags. Spencer’s seen that drawer before, when he and Ryan were kids and broke things that they weren’t supposed to be playing with in the first place, things they had to clean up quickly before anyone noticed.
(“These used to be sheets,” Ryan had said, running his hand over worn cotton. He said, “This was my mother’s housecoat,” holding a rag that looked even older than all the others.)
Brendon’s head is ducked down and Spencer can feel his breath by the collar of his shirt. Against the soft flesh of his thighs, Brendon’s hips feel sharp. Spencer notices the dull pain and wonders if he should bother to re-adjust. Brendon is panting now, so Spencer just bares down against him and waits.
He marvels that the music of the party doesn’t carry past the thick walls, knows there’s no chance of anyone hearing them. The hum of the lights is almost louder than the noise of their bodies slapping together.
Brendon’s thrusts have become unsteady and Spencer runs a hand down his back as Brendon shutters.
Brendon stills, leaning most of his weight down, and Spencer can’t breathe. As he tries to wiggle away, Spencer’s dick rubs up against the skin of Brendon’s stomach. Brendon takes this as a hint, rolling to the side so that he can wrap his fist around Spencer’s cock.
Spencer is staring at the rag again. He makes himself look over at Brendon, but Brendon’s watching somewhere past the slope of Spencer’s shoulder as he works his hand.
Spencer closes his eyes against the bright light. Brendon’s hand moves in a steady rhythm until Spencer feels himself orgasm, silently, spilling over Brendon’s fingers and onto his own stomach.
He lies still for a moment and listens as Brendon straightens his clothes and rises. When Spencer opens his eyes, Brendon is standing on the other side of him, fully dressed and wiping off his fingers with the blue rag before tossing it down to Spencer. Spencer wipes it over his stomach and pulls his pants up from where they were hanging off one ankle.
“I’m going to go catch up with Jon before he takes off,” Brendon says.
Spencer finishes dressing alone. He tosses the rag into a garbage can on his way out of the garage.
He’s halfway down the hallway that leads to Ryan’s kitchen when he runs into a girl he played with in youth orchestra during high school and spends the next hour chatting with her.
He sees Ryan staggering down the hall with a huge armful of empty bottles.
“I’ll see you later, okay?” he says to the girl and walks over to help Ryan with his load. They walk out the side door and dump the bottles in the recycling bin outside. A light turns on when they step out of the house, illuminating the area around them.
It’s still hot outside, warmer than the air-conditioned rooms of Ryan’s house. Spencer pushes a hand across his forehead to wipe his hair away. He sits down on the concrete and leans against the side of the house. There is a lilac bush a few meters down, and it still smells faintly sweet, though most of the little purple flowers have shriveled up and turned brown. He undoes the top three bottoms of his shirt to try to catch some of the breeze.
Ryan sits down beside him after a moment.
“How’s your new place?” Ryan asks.
“Actually, it’s pretty nice,” Spencer says. “Close to campus.”
“You like the campus?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. “I do. I met a girl at orientation. Haley.”
“Oh yeah?” Ryan says and raises his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Spencer says and smiles softly to himself.
“I can’t believe that you’ve actually left,” Ryan says.
”That was always the plan,” Spencer reminds him.
“I know.”
Ryan fiddles with his hair and Spencer stretches his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle.
“We hung the birdfeeders we made in third grade in that lilac bush,” Spencer says.
“Yeah,” Ryan says. “I think we thought it was a tree. It seemed a lot bigger then.”
Spencer hums lightly in response.
Ryan’s phone starts buzzing inside his pocket. He pulls it out and checks the screen before standing to his feet. “I’ll see you later,” he says to Spencer. “Hello?” he says into the phone and walks back into the house.
Spencer stays still and eventually the motion sensing light above his head turns off. The music from inside the house is muffled, but still audible. Spencer sits in the dark and waits for a reason to move.