Possession 4/5
Something about being with Spencer, about being forgiven, set Ryan’s mind adrift, his thoughts touching on things that hadn’t been brought to mind for months. They finally dragged themselves up off of the floor and into the bathroom, exchanging lazy kisses while the tub filled with water. They’d washed off quickly and now they were just relaxing against each other, quiet and still, and Ryan found himself remembering something he’d pretended to forget about completely.
There was a box hidden underneath Ryan’s bed, an old shoebox held together by duct-tape and layers of dust. He hadn’t looked at it since he’d shoved it under there while unpacking but he couldn’t help thinking of it’s silent presence while Spencer ran soapy hands over his back. Of all of the things Ryan had deemed necessary when fleeing his house, that box was the only thing that he probably should have left behind. At least, he should have left it if he’d been honestly planning to forget all about Vegas and his past life. But he’d shoved it in the bottom of his bag along with his favorite t-shirt and when he’d dumped his bag out in the middle of Pete’s living room a few nights later, he’d tried to convince himself he’d grabbed it by accident.
Even Ryan wouldn’t buy his own lie, though. He’d grabbed the box on purpose and that might have been the first indication that he wasn’t really sure what he wanted. His mind told him to forget all about his friends and his family but he hadn’t been thinking when he’d packed and he’d instinctively made sure to bring his own personal treasure chest full of memories along.
He hadn’t opened it that night, but he did a few weeks later. It was after the first time he’d blown Pete and instead of waking up in the other man’s arms like usual, he’d woken up alone. But there was a note for him on the pillow in Pete’s rambling, stream-of-conscious that didn’t make sense until Ryan put the numbers together and found himself calling the bank. He’d gone to sleep with the taste of Pete’s cum in his mouth and in return, he woke up to a bank account in his name.
Ryan had thought seriously about running away again, running back. He’d curled up on the floor around the box, nudging off the lid with one finger and sorting through the contents with painfully dry eyes. He hadn’t looked at it since, but Ryan still knew exactly what was in it and where. There was a mix tape that Spencer’s mom had helped the two of them make when they were nine and ten and there was a drawing from Spencer, age six, folded up on top of about a dozen photographs. Most of them were of Spencer and Ryan, dressed up for Halloween or in Santa hats or just playing with trains and remote-control cars. There were a couple, though, of Ryan and his dad from when Ryan was little and his dad was only a little unhappy.
Of all of the things that Ryan had been forced to face with Spencer and Brendon’s return to his life, that was one he wasn’t really ready to think about yet. But he couldn’t really help it.
He settled more comfortably in the circle of Spencer’s arms and said, “I haven’t asked about my dad yet.”
Spencer was quiet for a moment, scratching a hand through Ryan’s hair. “Are you asking now?” he finally asked.
Ryan swallowed and then nodded. “Yeah.”
Spencer’s shoulders lifted in a shrug against Ryan’s back and he said, “I think he blames himself. I mean, he should but. You know your dad.”
“Is he okay, though? I mean. Health-wise?” Because Ryan had trained himself not to get too invested in his father’s constant see-sawing feelings about his own treatment of his son. That wasn’t important or unexpected.
“He was shaky for a while. He got pretty withdrawn, I guess. He called to ask me about you a few times while he was drunk.”
Ryan bit his lip. “What did you say?”
Spencer sighed against Ryan’s ear. “That you were fine. That you were good.” He paused. “I didn’t know. But I hoped.”
Ryan didn’t say anything but he didn’t think that Spencer was expecting him to. After a moment Spencer told him, “he told me to take care of you. A few times. I’ve kind of sucked at it lately.”
Ryan craned his head back so that he could peer up at Spencer from underneath his damp bangs. “Shut up, that’s more my fault than yours.”
Spencer smirked and nodded, the look on his face lightening the mood between them. “Truer words. You’re such an asshole, Ross.”
“You’re, like, the second person to say that to me today,” Ryan told him, and Spencer laughed, lips pressed to Ryan’s forehead.
They drifted off into a contented silence, Ryan relaxing into the intimate press of Spencer’s hands over his chest and shoulders and arms.
“Remember when we were little and we’d take baths together?” Spencer asked into Ryan’s ear.
Ryan snorted. “Yeah. It’s a little different now though, don’t you think?”
“Mmmm,” Spencer murmured in agreement. He slid one hand over Ryan’s thigh lazily, smiling when Ryan squirmed. “You should fuck me now.”
Ryan tipped his head and licked over the underside of Spencer’s jaw. “You’re kind of demanding.”
“You kind of love it.”
“Well,” Ryan said, “yeah.”
_._
There were things Ryan had always loved about Spencer’s body. His hips, for one thing, which could speak as many volumes as the quirk of his eyebrows or the glint in his eyes. They flared out from his waist just a bit, soft and sharp at the same time and it was kind of a pity that he hid them away in baggy pants all the time. Ryan loved Spencer’s tummy, too. He was thinner now than he’d been before but no worse for cuddling against. Ryan loved Spencer’s legs and his hands and his arms and his neck, God did Ryan love Spencer’s neck, but the best part about Spencer, full-stop, was his smile. His fucking wide, bright, gorgeous smile.
Ryan found himself leveled with that smile when he fit his hands around Spencer’s hips and pressed a kiss to the side of Spencer’s neck.
“What?” Ryan asked, smiling back without knowing what the joke was.
Spencer shook his head. “Nothing, stop being so paranoid. Can’t I just look at you?”
“I guess. If you really want to,” Ryan said, only half-joking.
“I really do,” Spencer said, completely serious.
Ryan felt himself blushing and covered it up by pressing his lips to the base of Spencer’s throat. Spencer chuckled and then moaned when Ryan sucked lightly at the skin there, adding the barest hint of teeth. Ryan could feel Spencer’s cock hard against his hip and he was torn between the desire to map out Spencer’s entire body just because he could, and fucking him hard and thorough for the same reason.
He settled on trailing his lips down over Spencer’s chest, running one hand high up on the inside of Spencer’s thigh. Spencer inhaled sharply and Ryan looked up, his mouth learning the curve of Spencer’s hip.
“Could you hand me the-” Ryan didn’t even finish his question before Spencer was reaching for the lube and condoms on the bedside table.
Ryan grinned and licked a line over Spencer’s groin before taking the lube and squirting some over his fingers. He glanced up to see Spencer watching intently as he slipped his hand between Spencer’s legs. When Ryan teased at Spencer’s entrance with one slick finger, Spencer bit down on his bottom lip. Ryan slid his finger inside and his sigh was drowned out by Spencer’s small noise of pleasure.
“You’ve never done this before?” Ryan asked, because the look on Spencer’s face was one of shock and awe, and he was tense and he was tight, so fucking tight, and it wasn’t really a surprise when Spencer flushed and shook his head. “Fuck,” Ryan gasped, pressing his forehead to Spencer’s hip and thrusting his finger in at the same time.
Spencer’s hips bucked up and Ryan slid another finger in with the first, scissoring them gently and soothing his other hand along Spencer’s waist.
“You should try to relax,” Ryan told him, moving his fingers in and out in slow, purposeful thrusts. “And tell me when you’re ready.”
Spencer nodded, eyes squeezed shut. Ryan frowned, trying to figure out how to get Spencer to relax enough to enjoy this; he crooked his fingers just so and rubbed against Spencer’s prostate and that did it. Spencer’s eyes flew open and he moaned, the sound loud in the dark of the room. Ryan did it again and all of the tension left Spencer’s body, his muscles pulling tight with arousal now instead of nerves.
“Fuck,” Spencer breathed, looking down at Ryan, pupils swallowing up the blue of his irises.
Ryan worked a third finger in, holding Spencer’s gaze steady with his own, and a few seconds later Spencer sucked in a breath.
“Okay,” he whispered, voice tight. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Okay,” Ryan said, not moving. “Do you want. It’ll probably hurt less if you’re on your hands and knees.”
“This is fine,” Spencer said, and although his tone was casual, the way he looked at Ryan was deeper than the words implied.
Ryan felt his stomach drop and he swallowed, nodding and pulling his fingers out of Spencer’s body. His hands were steady when he slid the condom on and slicked up his cock, but Ryan felt like he was shaking apart from the inside out. He hadn’t wanted this in a long time, hadn’t been in bed with another person mind and body all at the same time since those first few months with Pete, and the full awareness that hit him made everything feel sharp and overwhelming.
Spencer hooked his legs around Ryan’s hips and pulled him forward and they were really doing this, this was really happening. Ryan lined up his cock and met Spencer’s eyes as he thrust in, pushing into Spencer’s body slow and careful. Spencer’s mouth tightened in pain but he didn’t look away. He curled his fingers into Ryan’s back and then exhaled a shuddering breath when Ryan was all the way in. Ryan held himself still even though he didn’t want to, letting Spencer adjust and trying not to black out at the exquisite pleasure that was the tightness of Spencer around his cock.
“Alright?” Ryan asked after a moment and Spencer nodded.
Ryan twisted his mouth in an encouraging smile and withdrew slowly before thrusting in again. Spencer’s body arched into it, his head tipping back and exposing the pale length of his throat to Ryan. It was intense, being with someone as deliciously responsive as Spencer. Every thrust brought a new sound from Spencer’s throat, and Ryan could feel Spencer’s hands moving restless and desperate over his back. Spencer squeezed his thighs around Ryan’s hips and Ryan took the hint, thrusting in harder and chewing on his bottom lip to hold back his own groans.
Spencer slid one hand over Ryan’s shoulder to the back of his neck and pulled him down into a deep kiss, pushing his tongue into Ryan’s mouth and clutching at a handful of Ryan’s hair. The feel of Spencer’s teeth against his bottom lip made Ryan’s breathing stutter in his chest and his rhythm faltered for the space of two thrusts before he picked it up again, faster and harder this time, straining for release. Spencer broke the kiss, his moans falling loud and uninhibited from his lips. Ryan made a small sound and pushed up onto one hand, reaching between them to fist Spencer’s cock.
It was a little awkward at first, trying to coordinate everything. Ryan was used to lying back and just taking it. He’d fucked Pete maybe a handful of times and it was never all that special, just a little bit of a variant in what was a sadly tedious sex life. It was different now because with Pete, Ryan wasn’t all that concerned with making it good. They both knew Pete had had better and it just wasn’t a big deal.
Here, though, Ryan was fighting to keep his mind focused on things like pleasuring Spencer, making sure it was good and memorable for him. It was a girly thought to have, maybe, but Ryan couldn’t help it. He wanted to leave his mark and make an impression and for once in his life it was in his power to do so. The sense of control was heady and Ryan tightened his grip and twisted his wrist with new confidence, wringing more of those delicious sounds from Spencer.
Spencer lasted a few more strokes, his hips snapping up to meet every one of Ryan’s downward thrusts before he went still, throwing his head back and coming over Ryan’s fingers and both of their stomachs. Ryan stared down at Spencer, at the way his lips were parted, throat bared, and he thrust one more time before following Spencer over the edge, his orgasm even more intense than the one in the hallway, wracking his body and leaving him trembling when he finally came down.
Ryan collapsed on top of Spencer, mouth pressed to the damp muscle of Spencer’s shoulder. It took him a few seconds to gather the strength to pull out of Spencer (the sound Spencer made was halfway between disappointed and uncomfortable and made Ryan smile) and tie off the condom. Spencer reached out and tugged him close, winding their limbs together and resting his head on the pillow next to Ryan’s.
“That was okay, right?” Ryan asked and Spencer looked at him like he was a dumbass.
“No,” he deadpanned. “That was terrible. Never do that to me again.”
Ryan snorted and nuzzled his head under Spencer’s chin.
“Shut up,” he whispered drowsily.
“Mmmmm,” Spencer murmured back.
Five minutes later they were both asleep.
_._
Ryan woke up to the sound of his front door banging open. His belly cramped in fear and it took him nearly a minute to orient himself, to remember that he wasn’t back in Vegas, to realize Spencer had left sometime during the night, to convince himself there was no danger here. He was still wary when he sat up, listening to the heavy footfalls in the hallway. Pete pushed the bedroom door open with way more force than necessary and Ryan blinked at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Pete didn’t answer, just stalked forward, kicking his shoes off as he went. Ryan shivered and hunched his shoulders.
“Pete?”
“I need this,” was all Pete said, climbing onto the bed and latching onto Ryan’s shoulders with rough hands.
The expression on his face was fierce and unrecognizable and Ryan had never seen him this angry or frustrated in the years they’d known each other. Ryan swallowed and pulled at Pete’s hold.
“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Pete crushed their mouths together without answering, a brutal kiss that was more teeth than lips and Ryan pulled away with a small sound of protest.
“Stop it,” he said. “This isn’t like you. What the fuck?”
Ryan didn’t even realize what he’d said until Pete pulled away and stared at him, eyes narrowed in accusation. He’d said no. That was all Ryan could think was that he had just told Pete no and there had been no need for it. Pete wouldn’t hurt Ryan, not really, no matter how upset he was. But Ryan had said the words anyway and he couldn’t take them back. He didn’t think he wanted to.
“What’s going on with you?” Pete demanded. “You’re not yourself, Ryan.”
“What?” Ryan shot back, glaring at Pete. “Don’t turn this on me. I’m not the one who burst in here like he just got released from the asylum. What the hell is your problem?”
Pete’s jaw clenched stubbornly and Ryan sighed. Sometimes with Pete it was like he was dealing with someone six years younger than him. Ryan had dealt with immature people before: Brendon, half of the time, was like a five-year-old. But Brendon was sweet and naive whereas Pete was mullish and bratty. Usually Ryan could just kiss it out of him, but he didn’t want to touch Pete or go near him. Not right now.
“My problem,” Pete finally said. “Is the fact that you’re fucking around on me.”
Ryan stared at him. “What are you talking about?” he asked after a moment, voice shaky.
Pete’s lips twisted in a humorless smirk. “I’m just going to assume you forgot the fact that I have a key to this place. That technically, I’m the one who owns it. I can come and go whenever I want.”
Ryan winced and bit back a curse. “What did you see?”
“Enough,” Pete said vaguely.
“No!” Ryan shot back. “Tell me what you saw, Pete. If you’re going to come around spying on me, you might as well just tell me what you saw.”
Pete leaned forward, his face just a few inches from Ryan’s. “You don’t have a right to privacy, okay? That’s not what this is about. I come here whenever I want to fuck you and you don’t ask questions.”
Ryan’s lip curled and he leaned away from Pete. “Fuck you,” he hissed, scrambling backward and then off of the bed. “You don’t own me. I can leave whenever I want.”
“Then leave,” Pete said, his face maybe a little self-satisfied beneath the layer of hurt that Ryan was trying to ignore. “Get the fuck out, Ryan.”
Ryan didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled on clothes hastily, Pete’s eyes on him the whole time. It was awkward and cold and Ryan felt vaguely nauseous by the time he’d pulled on an old t-shirt and shoved his feet in his shoes. He didn’t look at Pete as he walked out and Pete didn’t follow him into the hallway. His keys were on the floor by the door where he must have dropped them the night before and his cellphone was still in the pocket of last night’s jeans. Ryan stooped over to pick up the keys and pulled his phone out. He’d dialed Spencer’s number before the front door was closed.
Pete didn’t bother watching him leave.
_._
Starbucks was different when Brendon and Jon weren’t working; it was just another glorified, hollowed out slab of concrete in a chain of glorified shopfronts that sold glorified coffee to needy masses. At a few minutes before noon, the place was enjoying a lunch rush and the girl behind the counter was greeting everyone with a frazzled smile. Ryan watched her try to stay calm through some wannabe power-broker’s complicated order.
“So he kicked you out,” Spencer said after a few more minutes, and Ryan looked over at him.
He’d just spent the last forty minutes spilling out all of the gory details of nearly every day since he’d left Vegas. He had started with getting off of the plane at O’Hare and ended with what had happened that morning and he didn’t pull any punches. They’d lapsed into silence as soon as Ryan had finished speaking and it was a little bit of a relief that Spencer looked concerned instead of disgusted or freaked out.
“I left,” Ryan said, because Pete may have had the last word but Ryan was the one who had walked out. He had made that choice.
“It’s probably for the best,” Spencer said, his eyes flashing angrily. “He sounds like a real dick and he treats you like shit.”
“He doesn’t treat me bad,” Ryan corrected. “Just. He treats me accordingly, I guess.”
Spencer frowned. “Don’t start with that bullshit,” he said. “You don’t deserve that, okay? Nobody deserves it, and don’t you dare talk yourself into thinking that you’re the exception.”
Ryan opened his mouth and then snapped it shut again because there were parts of him that did think he deserved it. He’d made the choice, after all. He could have gone out to get a job or something, could have gone back home, could have made a dozen different choices. This was the one he had made, though and he had to live with it. Spencer’s glare intensified, like he was reading Ryan’s mind, and he shook his head.
“I always knew your self-esteem issues were going to be your downfall one day,” he said. “Have you ever thought that you deserve something good? Don’t you ever think that maybe you’re worth more than whatever this guy’s willing to give you as long as you’re putting out for it?”
Ryan looked away and didn’t answer because he didn’t need to. Spencer had known him since he was a boy, had been there every step of the way from elementary to high school. Spencer knew Ryan’s insecurities inside and out and it was sad that after two years they hadn’t changed, that Ryan hadn’t grown, but at least it meant not having to say it out loud that Spencer was right. Spencer made a frustrated noise and reached out to flick Ryan’s forehead.
“No, seriously, you are such an idiot,” he said, half-fond and half-exasperated.
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “And you’re doing wonders for those self-esteem issues by constantly reiterating the point,” he said.
Spencer rolled his eyes and the next thing Ryan knew, Spencer’s fingers were tangled with his on the top of the table. They were holding hands right there in the middle of the Starbucks lunch rush and it wasn’t like Ryan hadn’t held hands before, but that had been with girls, back when it was socially acceptable. With Chris his junior year and then Brent when he was a senior, everything had been secretive and lacking affection. With Pete . . . well, Ryan couldn’t remember the last time he’d even been seen in public with Pete. Spencer’s palm was warm and the clasp of his hand was deceptively tight. Ryan flushed and tugged away half-heartedly, but Spencer held fast.
“You should come back to Vegas with me,” Spencer said, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
Ryan blinked. “Um. What?”
“Well,” Spencer said reasonably. “What else are you gonna do? You’re not going back to Pete are you?”
Ryan shook his head slowly although he would have been lying if he said the thought wasn’t at the back of his mind.
“So come back to Vegas with me.” Ryan looked down and Spencer pushed on. “Look, I know you don’t want to. I know you left that behind but I don’t want to walk away from this.”
“What is this?” Ryan asked, because he knew what they were saying and not saying, I love yous and don’t leave mes clogging the air between them, but other than that Ryan was flying blind.
Spencer was quiet for a moment and then he squeezed Ryan’s hand. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I think we should give ourselves a chance to figure it out.”
Ryan didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. They fell quiet and this time Spencer was the one to pull away, looking uncomfortable; Ryan caught his eye and held on.
_._
Brendon showed up at Spencer’s hotel room when the sun was just starting to set. Even Spencer was surprised to see him when he opened the door to Brendon’s dramatic knocking.
“Dude,” he said, staring at Brendon who stared back. “What the fuck?”
Brendon sighed and pushed his way into the room, doing a double-take when he saw Ryan lying on his side in Spencer’s bed.
“Oh, hey,” he said, his mouth spreading in a bright smile. “What, should I be congratulating you two now? Huh? Are you going steady?” he asked, lowering his voice to a whisper at the end of the sentence.
Spencer closed the door and thwapped him on the back of the head as he walked back over to Ryan.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, perching on the edge of the bed and eyeing Brendon critically.
“You told me I could come by if I needed anything,” Brendon pointed out.
Ryan raised his eyebrows at Spencer and Spencer glared half-heartedly back.
“So, what do you need?” Spencer asked, and Brendon frowned.
“Well, I’m sorry if I’m cutting into your precious ‘make sweet love to Ryan Ross’ time or something, Spence, but I’m having a crisis and I would appreciate it if you would at least pretend to care.”
Ryan blinked up at Brendon was standing at their bedside looking a little desperate around the edges. Spencer seemed content not to dignify that with a response and Ryan nudged him with a knee to the back.
“Okay, Brendon, shit,” Spencer finally managed. “What the hell happened?”
Brendon blew out a sigh and raked a hand through his hair. “I kissed Jon, maybe,” he said, before pausing. “No. No, I kissed Jon and I wish it were a maybe. But it’s not. Because it really happened.”
Ryan was sure his eyes were comically round but Brendon wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead he was staring at Spencer like he was going to find all of the answers to life’s toughest questions in his eyes. Spencer looked helplessly back.
“Well, what did he say?”
Brendon threw up his hands and started pacing around the room in no particular pattern, going left to right, front to back, back to left. Ryan sat up and hooked his chin over Spencer’s shoulder, watching Brendon’s progress, or lack thereof.
“Nothing,” Brendon said. “He didn’t say anything. He kissed me back. I mean, I think he did. But then he just pulled away and left.”
That didn’t sound like Jon and Ryan frowned. “He just left?”
“Yes,” Brendon said, turning on them with a manic glint in his eye. “Yes! He just walked right out of the apartment. He didn’t even look at me. I’m so stupid.”
Spencer shared a look with Ryan over his shoulder and then shifted a little on the bed and held his arms out. “Come here, you spaz,” he said, tone exasperated but fond.
Ryan hid a smile in Spencer’s shoulder when Brendon launched himself at them, and they all fell back on the bed in a tangle, settling until Brendon was in the middle, sandwiched on either side by Ryan and Spencer.
“He has a girlfriend,” Brendon said, voice muffled by where his face was buried in the crook of Spencer’s arm. “He’s not even gay or bi or anything. Why did I do that?”
Ryan huffed out an amused breath and dragged a hand through Brendon’s hair. “Hey, you’re really brave, you know that?”
Brendon groaned and shook his head. “Is that like calling me a nice guy? You know, like when I asked girls out in high school and they would always tell me what a nice guy I am but we should just be friends? Because if so, that’s kinda shitty, Ross.”
This time Ryan laughed, covering up the sound with a cough two seconds too late. Spencer smirked at him over the top of Brendon’s head.
“Wow, Urie, defensive much?” Spencer said and Brendon leaned up to glare down at him.
“You are such a bitch, sometimes, and I hate you. Both of you.”
“You do not,” Spencer said, placing a hand on the top of Brendon’s head and pushing him down again.
Brendon made a small sound but cuddled closer. Ryan curved himself against Brendon’s back and watched the play of Spencer’s hands through Brendon’s hair, breathing easily and enjoying the moment. They hadn’t been this close until the last couple of weeks before Ryan had left. Before that, Brendon had still be trying to figure out where his place with them was. He’d been more Brent’s friend than Ryan or Spencer’s and Ryan had considered Brendon way too immature for his tastes.
Ryan could still remember the careful way Brendon had held himself away from them in the first few months after they met, the way he’d clung to Brent more often than not. It had been weird because at the time, Ryan and Brent had just started fooling around and Ryan had been a little jealous of Brendon. Brendon who was, in his own words, a ‘recovering Mormon’, and who was as geeky and fag-y as anyone Ryan had ever met, and who could get away with things Ryan couldn’t. Ryan could only ever connect with Spencer that way and even then there were boundaries that they didn’t cross, laid out by Ryan’s father and the heteronormative pressure of suburban life.
Somewhere in the time between Ryan and Brent getting reckless and Ryan and Brent getting caught, Brendon managed to bust all of the barriers Ryan had erected around himself and that Spencer had erected around the two of them, and there wasn’t really any looking back after that. Maybe, Ryan mused, nosing along the back of Brendon’s neck and soaking up the warmth of his body and the lightly charged intimacy that hadn’t always existed between the three of them, maybe it was because of Brendon that Ryan had gotten reckless in the first place. Maybe Brendon had been the one to convince Ryan that he didn’t have to hide.
Ryan was strong on his own and he knew it in an abstract way. He’d survived a lot and he didn’t like to think about it as ‘surviving’ because that implied that it was worse than it was (and it was bad enough that he’d run away but not that bad, Ryan told himself, it could have been worse), but he’d had to be strong growing up. Bravery, though, that was something Brendon had in spades. He was irreverent in ways Ryan wasn’t (not calculated, and completely earnest) and headstrong and kind of amazing.
There was a part of Ryan that hurt to think about going back to Vegas without Brendon. Spencer’s hand found Ryan’s over the curve of Brendon’s hip and their fingers tangled together. The touch soothed the ache and cleared Ryan’s head. He wanted this, he realized. He wanted this intimacy again, the kind that he’d lost with Pete and that maybe he never would have had with him in the first place. Ryan closed his eyes, thinking that he was a little jealous of what Brendon could do all on his own, but knowing that he didn’t really need to be. Ryan had Spencer and that more than made up for it.
_._
It was some ungodly hour when Ryan was jerked awake by somebody’s phone ringing and vibrating against his leg. A hand wormed its way between their bodies and Ryan could feel fingers digging into the pockets of a pair of jeans. When they finally tugged the phone free, Ryan thought that he would be able to go back to sleep. He was warm and comfortable and still groggy enough that it would only take a few seconds.
Instead, Brendon answered with a slurred “h’lo?”
Ryan thought he might still be able to fall asleep if Brendon kept the call short, but he mumbled something and then pressed the phone to Ryan’s ear.
“Wha-”
“Did you know that there’s a blonde girl ransacking in your apartment?” Jon’s voice asked, disgustingly alert.
“Um,” Ryan said, trying to wake up and failing miserably. “What?”
“There’s a blonde in your apartment. It looks like she might have thrown a couple of books but I don’t think she broke anything,” Jon said.
“She better not have touched Palahniuk,” Ryan said, half-convinced this was a dream before it hit him that not only was some stranger apparently in his apartment, but so was Jon. “What are you doing at my apartment?” he asked.
“Funny story,” Jon said, sounding deceptively casual. “I got home and my roommate had vanished without a trace. And then said roommate didn’t call to tell me if he was still alive. So I decided to try and track him down and this was the only place I could think to look. But surprise, surprise, not only is he not here, but neither is the apartment’s rightful occupant. Instead, there is a strange woman inside going through all of your stuff.”
Ryan said, “Wow. Okay.”
Jon said, “I know her, by the way. Her name’s Ashlee and she’s Pete’s girlfriend.” Ryan’s eyes shot open in the dark but he couldn’t think of what to say. “So maybe you should get your ass over here. And bring Brendon with you so I can yell at him and then take him home.”
“I. Yeah, okay, I’ll be right over,” Ryan said, still trying to catch up.
Jon said something that Ryan didn’t quite catch and hung up, and for a few seconds Ryan could just lay in bed with Brendon’s arm curled around his waist and Spencer’s fingers brushing his forehead wondering if maybe he was dreaming the whole thing.
“What’s up?” Brendon asked, and Ryan physically shook himself and sat up.
“We have to go,” he said, ignoring Spencer’s groan of protest and Brendon’s small, inquiring noise. “Jon’s at my apartment and somebody broke in.”
“You mean the apartment you left?” Spencer asked, with a little bit of a bite to his tone.
Ryan sighed and threw his legs off of the bed. “We just have to go, okay?”
Brendon and Spencer moved reluctantly, Spencer shooting Ryan unreadable looks while Brendon dragged his feet. Ryan sighed and reached out to grab Spencer’s hand. He moved into Spencer’s personal space, their body heat mingling between them, and leaned in to press a kiss to Spencer’s cheek.
“Come on,” he said, jerking his head toward the door. “We have to get Brendon back to Jon.”
“Can we not, maybe?” Brendon asked, the pout audible in his voice.
Spencer finally relaxed and rolled his eyes, taking a step toward the door and pulling Ryan along with him. “Stop being such a pussy. Obviously Jon’s not upset or he wouldn’t have called.”
“Maybe he just wants to, like, kill me in my sleep or something,” Brendon pointed out in a reasonable tone.
Ryan snorted and grabbed Brendon’s wrist on their way out the door to make sure he didn’t try to make an escape.
“Jon wouldn’t kill you,” Ryan said. “He’s fucking crazy about you.”
Brendon tripped over his own feet and Ryan looked over to see the younger boy staring up at him from under his bangs.
“Is not,” he said, voice pitched low.
Somehow Spencer managed to reach around Ryan and smack Brendon upside the head. Hard. Brendon yelped and glared over at him, but Spencer just shook his head.
“Don’t be a dumbass, Brendon,” he said. “Trust us on this one.”
Brendon made a face and opened his mouth to say something back, but Ryan cut him off, shaking his arm lightly. “We trusted you,”he reminded him.
Ryan could feel Spencer staring at him and Brendon looked between the two of them before sighing.
“Yeah,” he said. “Okay. Maybe.” He didn’t look convinced but Ryan recognized the set of his shoulders as hopeful and Ryan glanced sideways to share a smile with Spencer.
They caught a cab on the street corner and headed straight for Ryan’s apartment building, stuffed side-by-side in the backseat. Brendon leaned against the window and stared out at the city, lost in thought, while Ryan leaned his head on Spencer’s shoulder, their entwined hands sandwiched between Spencer’s thighs. The cab driver gave them an inscrutable look when he pulled over to the curb but didn’t say anything disparaging, particularly not after the fairly hefty tip Ryan left him.
Jon was sitting in the lobby looking scruffy and out of place and the doorman kept shooting him dirty looks, pausing to smile apologetically at Ryan as if to say sometimes people like him just find their way in and I can’t get rid of them, what can you do? Ryan twisted his lips in response, not quite managing a polite smile, and walked right up to Jon.
“Hey,” he said.
Jon looked up and then his eyes darted to where Brendon was hovering behind Ryan, clinging to the back of his shirt. “Hey,” he said. “So, apparently Ashlee’s been pulling numbers and addresses from Pete’s Blackberry or something. Wanna meet her?”
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