when everything's coming your way (you're in the wrong lane) | part three of five

[whisperdlullaby]

[ master post] [ part one] [ part two] [part three] [ part four] [ part five] [ extras]

The first thing Spencer does when he gets home is rush to his room to call Ryan. He already knows how it’s going to go; it’ll start with the usual lecture, followed by him teasingly (or not so teasingly, depending on his mood) calling him a slut. Then, after a few minutes of silence, Ryan will cave, and carefully ask, "So… how was it?"

However, when he calls, he waits through five complete rings before it goes to voicemail. He hangs up, disappointed, and figures he must already be asleep. He was looking forward to telling him that at least one of them is no longer a complete and hopeless virgin.

He changes into his PJ’s, tossing his jeans into the hamper once he notices a small come stain near the zipper. He makes a mental note to do the laundry before his mom does, and inexorably notices it, lining them up for excruciating sex talk number three.

Just as he’s pressing the power button on his computer, his mom's voice calls from the bottom of the stairs, asking him to come down. Groaning, he reluctantly pulls himself from his chair and treads downstairs.

When he reaches the kitchen, his parents are sitting at the table, hands folded together with grim, slightly bemused expressions on their faces. Spencer frowns, racking his brains for something that he's done wrong. He came home on time, even a minute before eleven, and he hasn't done anything else that would warrant him a lecture ― at least nothing his parents could possibly know about ― so he immediately jumps to the next conclusion: someone died.

"What ― " Stopping short, his gaze catches the two packs of condoms and lube he had bought with Ryan, sitting on the table in front of them. His cheeks immediately flush with heat, mortified. "Where did you get those?" he asks tightly, voice straining with guilt and anger, knowing they couldn't have found those, hidden in the back of his nightstand drawer, without searching his room first.

They ignore him, and his mom is the first to speak. "You're fifteen years old, Spencer," she states with a saddened expression.

He swallows, feeling his gut twist into knots. "I know that," he snaps.

"That's way too young to be having sex."

"I'm not ― " He stops himself, taking a deep breath in an attempt to prolong the inevitable blow-up. "I'm not having sex," he tries again, and he doesn't think he's lying. Not technically, anyways. Maybe if this was the 50's, but it's not, and the last time he checked exchanging two quick hand-jobs isn't considered sex.

"Then why do you have these?" she asks, gaze flicking towards the condoms in disgust as if they were skeletons instead. His dad remains silent next to her, face pulled into anger and mistrust, hurt, which Spencer almost finds to be worse.

"They're not even open," he points out. "Obviously I can't be having too much sex if there isn't even one taken out. Just because I bought them doesn't mean I'm doing it. I was just ― I thought I'd be careful."

Shifting her gaze downwards, she clears her throat, starting slowly as if thinking over the words as she speaks. "I know that Jon's older… that he could be pressuring you into things…"

"Jon hasn't pressured me into anything," Spencer grinds out through clenched teeth, cheeks throbbing with humiliation. "He hasn't even asked me to." First Brendon and now this, Spencer is quickly coming to the realization that this just might be the worst ending to his first sexual experience ever.

She looks up, searching his eyes with uncertainty. "You're still my baby, Spencer," she says quietly, voice breaking, and for a brief moment, Spencer's worried she might burst out into tears. "I don't ― You're not supposed to grow up this fast." Spencer's dad reaches over, wrapping a hand around hers.

"Mom," he tries weakly, shifting uncomfortably as guilt runs through him. He sighs, and says, "I swear, I'm not lying. Me and Jon aren't ― we aren't doing that. And he's not pressuring me either. He's not like that."

She sighs, resting her forehead onto her hand. An awkward silence hangs thick over them, the minutes on the clock above them ticking slowly by. Finally, his dad looks up, nodding towards the door. "You can go back to your room now," he says firmly.

Spencer doesn't need to be told twice as he scrambles away, sneaking one last look at his mom while he turns the corner. When he gets to his room, he opens his phone and scrolls to Jon's name, leaving the cursor there for exactly one minute before snapping it back closed.

*

The next morning Spencer wakes up to the condoms and lube sitting on his computer chair. A note sits on top; be safe, it reads, scrawled out in his mother's handwriting.

Spencer groans, and buries them at the bottom of his dresser drawer.

*

His parents don't bring up Jon coming for dinner that night, and Spencer couldn't be more relieved. The thought of Jon sitting around and having dinner with them, things already awkward and tense, would be unbearable beyond belief. He's happy his parents can at least realize that. The last thing he needs is his parents accusing Jon of pressuring and corrupting 'their baby.'

He tries calling Ryan again, but this time, it goes straight to voicemail. He frowns, growing concerned. Within the next hour he calls five more times, leaves three voicemails and sends him six texts, all of which go unanswered.

Finally, at three, two hours after he first called, he decides he can't sit there and worry any longer, and bikes down to his house. Sometimes, he wonders where he stopped being Ryan's friend, and became his mother. Ryan mostly teases him about it, tells him he gets all his fussing and nagging from his own overly-maternal mother, but Spencer knows that deep down, he appreciates it. After all, he needs it from someone since his own turned out to be such a failure, disappearing when he was barely a year-old.

Spencer waits on his front step for five minutes, ringing the doorbell at thirty second intervals, foot jiggling nervously. There's no car in the driveway, and when Spencer steps out onto the yard to look up at Ryan's window on the second floor, the curtains are drawn and there's no sign of movement.

He tries the doorbell one last time, gnawing on his bottom lip, when finally the door opens, revealing Ryan. A wave of relief washes over him before it's quickly replaced with anger.

"You dick!" he cries, and pushes past Ryan into his house. "What the fuck?"

Ryan shrugs, barely, running his hands through his tangled hair. Spencer stops freaking out long enough to notice that Ryan resembles something of death, purple underneath his eyes and baggy sweats hanging off his scraggly body. He frowns, and asks, rushed out with worry, "What's wrong? What happened? Is it your dad? What did he do now? Do you need to stay at my house? 'Cause you totally can, my parents ― "

"For Christ sake," Ryan snaps, shutting the door behind Spencer. "No, it's not my dad. It's not always my dad, Spencer."

Spencer bites down onto his lip, shoulders dropping. "Sorry," he mumbles, embarrassed.

Ryan shrugs, sighing. "It's okay."

"So…" he starts after a long pause, "what's wrong then?"

"Nothing's wrong," he says, but it lacks any will to make it sound even somewhat believable.

"Ryan," Spencer presses, gentle, "come on. I know you, and I know something's wrong. Tell me and we can try to fix it."

Ryan laughs, dryly. "Good luck with that."

Spencer frowns, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

He sighs again, eyes darting down the hallway, junk littered along the edges of the flooring. "It's just Pete," he admits quietly, after a few minutes pass.

"What about him?"

Ryan shrugs, hair hanging in front over his eyes as he stares down at his feet. "He dumped me, I guess."

"He ― He dumped you?" Spencer repeats, floundered. He wasn't even aware they were a couple.

"I guess so. I mean, I don't know," he mumbles, avoiding Spencer's gaze. "If we were even together. Apparently we weren't."

"Is that what he said?" Spencer asks carefully.

"Yeah." Straightening, he brings his chin up, suddenly defiant, as if realizing something. "I mean, whatever," he says, shrugging indifferently, but Spencer can see right through it. "It doesn't matter anyway."

"Ryan." Spencer frowns, and Ryan brings his chin up higher. He opens his mouth, probably trying to shrug it off once more, but Spencer reaches forward before he has the chance, wrapping his arm around his neck and pulling him into his chest.

Ryan remains stiff at first, but slowly, he wraps his arms around Spencer's waist, sinking into his hold. "I'm so fucking stupid," he mutters into his shoulder, and Spencer holds on tighter. "I don't even ― I should've known. I should've listened."

When Spencer pulls away, Ryan drops his gaze once again, but not quick enough to hide the small pool resting in the corners of his eyes. Something ugly tugs at his gut, and it's like last night with his mom all over again, except that much more painful. Spencer's seen Ryan at the lowest of the low; he's seen him with split lips and black eyes, but only once has he ever seen him shed more than a single tear that he didn't immediately brush away.

"Hey, come on," Spencer says, gently nudging his shoulder. "It'll be okay. He was a dick, anyway. There's bigger, better fish in the sea."

Ryan rolls his eyes, chuckling softly at his lame analogy. He can still laugh, at least. "Yeah. I mean, you and Jon were right after all," he shrugs, letting out a long exhale of breath, "like a twenty year-old would really be interested in me. Or, I guess anyone, really." He laughs at the end, as if brushing it off as a joke, but Spencer catches some truth to it.

"Ryan, come on," he protests. "Don't be stupid. People are interested in you."

He rolls his eyes. "Like who?"

"Like Tom for one."

Ryan raises an eyebrow. "Tom Conrad?" he repeats, doubtful.

Spencer nods.

"Yeah, right," he scoffs.

"I mean it."

Ryan hugs his arms across his chest, eyes drifting away. "Whatever," he replies, short and disbelieving. "Either way, Pete's the only one who's ever actually done anything about it."

"Does doing something about it mean attacking you at a concert?" Spencer asks, quirking an eyebrow, and Ryan pulls a face. "There have been plenty of people over the years that’ve shown interest, but you don't open your eyes long enough to notice. Like Tom? Seriously? He joined the school newspaper for you. If he were anymore obvious he'd have a huge 'I heart Ryan Ross' tattooed across his forehead."

"Shut up." He rolls his eyes, but Spencer can see the bashful smile tugging at his lips.

"So," he says after a moment, smiling softly himself, "do you maybe want to like, I don't know, stop standing in your hallway like idiots and go watch TV or something?"

Ryan pulls his arms closer to his chest, and bites his lip, unsure. "Don't you have to go see Jon or something?" he asks carefully.

"No." He pulls his phone from his pocket, switching it off and flashing it in front of Ryan. "See," he says, "no boyfriend."

"Okay. Sure," Ryan says, face lighting. Spencer realizes then, that this is the closest he's felt to Ryan since Jon came along; he feels like best friends again. Before now, he couldn't remember the last time they hung out without any form of hostility towards each other.

Ryan starts up the stairs first, and it's not until they reach the top that Spencer notices a slight limp to his step. "What happened to your leg?" He frowns.

Ryan freezes, if only for a moment, the muscles underneath his t-shirt contracting. "Oh, I just tripped up the stairs yesterday. My ankles a bit strained," he replies, noncommittally, pushing the door to his room open.

Spencer follows behind, watching the limp in his step with uncertainty. "It wasn't your ― " Ryan cuts him off before he has a chance to finish, spinning around to face him, features darkened.

"Don't even say it," he snaps. "It wasn't. I just tripped. By myself. It happens."

Spencer sighs, eyeing him one last time before letting it go. After all, it does happen; Spencer would know. He was the one who tripped up the school stairs last week in front of a large group of upperclassmen.

Ryan turns the power on his television and Nintendo, grabbing both controllers and throwing one at Spencer, who manages to catch it just as it knocks into his chest. He shoots Ryan a glare, and he shrugs loosely in reply. "You need to work on your reflexes." He takes a seat on the edge of his bed as the game starts up, and Spencer catches the small, pained expression that comes across his face before he quickly covers it up.

Spencer frowns worriedly, wondering how many bruises are hidden beneath his clothing. He knows he can't push things like this, that if Ryan doesn't want to talk about it, then he won't. He knows that if he asks more, Ryan will only get annoyed and push away, building up that wall until it’s nearly impossible to talk to him about anything. Most of the time, when Ryan's dad has an especially bad month or receives a little more money on his paycheck to buy booze, Spencer is left to freak out in his own head, wishing there was something he could do, but knowing there's not.

He lets Ryan beat him five times at Mario Kart, though.

*

"So, uh. Guess what?" Spencer asks, breaking off a piece of his strawberry Poptart.

Across from him, Ryan raises an unenthused eyebrow, barely batting an eyelash as he shoves half the pastry into his mouth in one bite.

"Well," Spencer starts nervously. "Uh. I guess I'm not a complete and hopeless virgin anymore."

Ryan's gaze instantly snaps to meet Spencer's, expression frozen. "What do you mean?"

Spencer shrugs, feeling vaguely shy and a little bit embarrassed as he lets out a strained laugh. "Oh, you know. Just, um. Me and Jon, like, I don't know. Got each other off? I guess." He blushes deeper, entire face now engulfed in cherry. He feels stupid because this is Ryan after all; they've confided in much worse things over the years. Not that this is bad or anything, because it's not. In fact, it's really, really good. Spectacular, even. "You know, with our hands." He waves one in the air, as if Ryan needs to be reminded what a hand is.

He waits, as if taking a moment to think this over, and then goes back to his Poptart, unfazed. "Oh."

"Oh?" Spencer repeats, incredulously. "That's it?"

"I guess so?"

Spencer stares at him, aghast, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Who are you?" he asks after a beat. Ryan frowns, as if confused over his reaction, and Spencer continues before he has a chance to reply, "I thought you'd have a little more to say than that. You know, at least lecture me or something."

Shrugging, Ryan pops the last bite into his mouth. "I don't know. It's been over a month, it was bound to happen sometime."

Spencer stares at him while Ryan goes onto his new Poptart, shoving it into his mouth like nothing had happened. He waits a total of three minutes before asking, careful and drawn-out, "Aren't you going to ask me how it was or something?"

Ryan looks up, face blank. "Okay," he says. "How was it?"

"Um," Spencer starts, flabbergasted. "Good?"

Ryan nods. "Good." Shoving the last bite into his mouth, he gets up, grabbing his plate and dumping it into the sink with a clatter. "Come on," he says, heading towards the door leading to his living room, "I'll kick your ass in Halo now."

Spencer listens to the sound of his footsteps retreating up the stairs, staring at the now cold pastry. He blinks, replaying the conversation over in his head. "What the - ?" he mutters to himself, floundered as Ryan calls his name from the top of the stairs.

*

It's late when Spencer finally leaves Ryan's, the sun already set and the moon peaking out over the rooftops across the street. It's cool for a March night, the wind softly blowing, and the air nips him through his sweater. The second he steps outside he pulls his phone from his pocket, switching it on. He doesn't bother reading all five of Jon's texts before pressing speed-dial 2.

Jon picks up on the third ring, and says, skipping any formal greetings, "There you are! Shit, for awhile I thought you were dead."

"Sorry," Spencer murmurs, choosing to walk his bike. His last attempt to talk on the phone while riding ended him in a horrible crash involving Mrs. Perkins rosebush. It’s safe to say that he's learned his lesson since then.

"It's okay. I was just worried, I guess," he replies, voice muffled. Spencer smiles, chest fluttering, and imagines a pink blush spreading across Jon's cheeks on the other side of the line. "Your phone’s been off all day. How come?"

"I was with Ryan," he explains. "BFF bonding time."

"Oh, I see. Exciting," he says, but there's something in his tone that makes Spencer think otherwise.

"What's wrong?" he asks, finding it increasingly difficult to wheel his bike down the road with one hand, and trying to deal with a moody boyfriend in the other.

"I don't know. Nothing." He pauses, and after no reply from Spencer, he says, "I just ― I don't know. Would he really have made that big of deal if your phone was on?"

"Probably not," he replies, irritation rapidly forming in his gut. He doesn't get why, for once, they can't both leave him alone. He's slowly starting to realize that it's impossible to please them both. "But I figured I owed him at least a day of undivided attention."

"I guess so."

"Look," Spencer says after a long moment of silence, "I'll call you back when I get home, okay? I'm trying to walk my bike while talking and it's proving to be really hard." That, and he doesn't have the patience to deal with Jon right now. Spending a day with a pouty Ryan was enough to go around, and he's starting to feel exhausted by all of it.

"Oh," Jon says, and then, "Okay. Sure."

"Bye." Not waiting for Jon's reply, Spencer clicks off his phone and shoves it into his pocket. He climbs onto his bike, and spends the ride home not thinking about nagging best friends or clingy boyfriends.

*

Monday morning Ryan shows up to school dressed in all black and eyes rimmed with a heavy coat of smudged kohl. Ryan's never been one to skip the dramatics.

Spencer sympathizes at first, pulling him into a hug when he first sees him that morning, but by lunch time, after Ryan spends a half an hour moping and poking at his burger, barely speaking more than a word, Spencer's mostly just feeling annoyed. He gets that he liked Pete, that this was his first almost-relationship, but that's just it. It was an almost, and it barely lasted for a week. Being sad is fine, Spencer can get that, but this is getting to be a little too much.

Thankfully, Jon comes to the rescue, sliding into the chair next to him, and greeting him with a chaste kiss, arm sliding around the back of his chair. Spencer catches Ryan roll his eyes over his macaroni.

"Hi, Ryan," Jon says, cheerily. On a scale of one to ten, Spencer can't quite pin down just how fake it is, but he assumes it's somewhere near the top.

Not looking up from his plate, Ryan mutters a disinterested, "Hi."

"How are you doing?" Jon asks, sympathy laced thickly in his voice.

Ryan snaps his head up to look at him, eyes flashing with heat and Spencer tenses, eyes slipping shut as he imagines ten different ways to strangle his dumb-ass boyfriend. He was hesitant about telling Jon in the first place, but he figured he'd find out on his own eventually; he figured he'd be smart enough not to go mentioning it around Ryan. Apparently, he had thought wrong.

"You told him?" Ryan demands.

Spencer cracks one eye open to see Ryan glaring at him, face pulled tight and flushed red with anger. He swallows, and says, "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd care. I mean, he would've found out eventually."

"You're unbelievable," he hisses.

Jon fiddles with his ear, eyes drifting across the cafeteria in discomfort, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. Good, Spencer thinks bitterly. So he should be.

"And what else have you told him about me?"

"Ryan," he sighs, exasperated, "I didn't think it was that big of a deal. It's not like you told me not to tell."

"I shouldn't have to," he snaps. "You should know there are some personal things in my life I'd rather not have you sharing with your boyfriend."

Spencer groans, jaw clenching in frustration. "Ryan," he cries. "Why are you freaking out so much over this? It's like you're just trying to start a fight with me."

"The fact that you don't even get why I'd be mad at you, makes me even madder!"

"Uh, I'm just going to go…" Jon mumbles awkwardly, pulling himself from his chair.

Ryan and Spencer both turn to glare at him the same time, eyes flashing with mirrored anger. "Stay," they demand in unison, and Jon carefully sits back down, swallowing. Spencer will be damned if he gets away that easily, and yet he's still forced to sit here through the wrath of Ryan thanks to his idiocy.

"You're taking this a little bit too far," he says, calm as he can manage.

"No, I'm not," he insists harshly, stabbing his lunch with his plastic fork, "it's the fact that if you can't keep this one little thing to yourself, no matter how small it may seem to you, how the hell am I supposed to trust you with the other stuff anymore? I miss the days when I could tell you things and not have to worry about you telling him later on." He jerks his chin towards Jon at the mention, disdain floating thickly in his eyes.

Jon's face scrunches together, clearly offended, but Spencer's glad he at least has the sense to keep his mouth shut this time.

"That's not fair," Spencer says after a moment, feeling cornered. "It was only little thing. You can't tell me you can't trust me anymore just because I happened to mention to him that some asshole dumped you after a week."

Ryan's expression suddenly changes, pulling into something harsher. He shakes his head, lips pulled into a thin line. Pushing away the tray of half-eaten food, he gets up from his seat. "Whatever, Spencer," he spits. Before Spencer has a chance to think of a rebuttal, Ryan's pushing past a group of freshman girls next to their table, and disappears out of the cafeteria.

Spencer stares after him, skin prickling with frustration and guilt. Jon shifts next to him, clearing his throat uncomfortably, reminding Spencer of his presence. Turning to glare at him, he snaps, "This is all your fault! You couldn't have just kept your mouth shut. You know what Ryan's like."

"I tend to forgot how truly crazy he really is sometimes," he responds, dryly, rolling his eyes.

Spencer punches him in the arm with as much force as he can conjure up, scowling. "Shut up. You're an asshole."

Jon flinches, and moves slightly to the right, away from Spencer. "What?" he defends. "It's true. It was some loser twenty year-old loser interested in a sixteen year-old, what did he expect? We tried to tell him. And what? Like I wouldn't have figured it out myself. I knew this was going to happen since day one."

"That's not the point," he hisses, rolling his fist along the edge of the table, irritation bubbling inside his veins.

Jon remains silent, and Spencer can feel his eyes on him, but he refuses to look up. After a moment, he murmurs, "Don't be mad at me."

Spencer wouldn't call this a fight-fight, but it's the first disagreement between them that reaches beyond what movie to watch or what flavor of chips to get. It's frustrating and he's pissed off, but there's a part of it that's also a little invigorating. He likes that he can be the one to get mad at Jon and still have him come crawling back, tail tucked between his legs. Spencer can name at least fifteen people off the top of his head that would love to have that kind of power.

Spencer rolls his eyes. "Ryan's mad at me because of you."

"And he'll get over it," Jon replies, simply. "He always does."

Spencer turns to face him, and slowly, he inhales, the tension in his shoulders slowly retreating. Jon's right, and he knows it. "I could've at least prolonged the next fight if it wasn't for you," he points out difficultly.

"Yeah, but it didn't." Wrapping his arms around Spencer's neck, he pulls him into him, despite his initial struggle. "Chill," he insists, pecking the corner of his mouth, "he'll be over it by the end of the day."

*

Apparently Jon’s wrong on this one, because when he shows up at Ryan's locker at the end of the day, just like he does every other Monday and Thursday, he's nowhere in sight. When he asks the girl at the locker next to his if she saw him, she tells him he left not even a minute earlier.

Spencer curses underneath his breath, thanks her, and returns to cursing. Ryan is a drama queen, this is nothing new, but this is taking it a bit too far.

He could give him the benefit of the doubt, that maybe it did just slip his mind, thinking it was another day of the week when Spencer hangs out with Jon, but he doubts it. Ryan never forgets.

Spencer manages to catch Jon just as he's closing his locker door, a familiar green backpack slung over his shoulder. "Ryan ditched me," he says as a greeting, "can you drive me there so I can bitch at him?"

Jon rolls his eyes, but there's softness to it as he slings an arm over Spencer's shoulder, leading him towards the staircase. He takes that as a yes.

Spencer still feels a twinge of pride whenever he walks down the hallway with Jon, his arm wrapped around his shoulder or hand fit snugly with his. Spencer's never been one o feel superior over others, but sometimes, he can't help it. Jon is hot, okay?

In the car, Jon turns in the opposite direction of Ryan's house. When Spencer shoots him a questioning look, he just smirks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "What? You don't want to go make out in my backseat for a bit?"

Rolling his eyes, Spencer laughs, heat creeping up the back of his neck. And yeah, actually, he kind of really does. They could go back to his house and make out on an actual bed, but there's something about backseats that are slightly more exhilarating; he feels more rebellious this way.

Jon pulls into an empty playground parking lot, coming to a stop at the very end. They've been here once or twice before, knowing the chances of them being left alone are high, since it remains mostly abandoned except on warm, summer afternoons.

Spencer crawls into the backseat first, Jon following behind him, and he presses his lips to Spencer's before he even makes contact with the seat. Spencer's fairly sure he's more familiar with the backseat of Jon's car than he is with his own parent's SUV. The first few times they had done this, Spencer felt a bit sleazy. Now it's more of a thrill to him, knowing someone could walk by and peek in at any moment.

Nudging Spencer down, Jon slides on top, tongue flicking along his bottom lip. Spencer kisses him back hungrily, hands slipping around the back of his neck and pressing into the warm skin.

They've barely been kissing for a minute when Jon's hips begin to grind down against his, their breath picking up. A small whimper escapes from the back of Spencer's throat, and Jon snakes a hand between them, popping the button open on his jeans. When he tugs the fly down, Spencer pulls back, regretfully. "Wait, wait," he says between heavy pants of air, "I can't. I'm going to Ryan's after." The second the words come out of his mouth he realizes the idiocy; like he's really going to turn down his second hand job, ever, because of Ryan. He goes to tell him fuck it, but Jon's already attempting to tug his jeans down his hips, anyway. "What ― "

"Sh," Jon interrupts.

Spencer snaps his mouth shut, frown deepening, but lifts his hips so Jon can pull his pants and boxers down his thighs. He swallows, entire face heating into a dark crimson; even though Jon has seen him before, it was never eyelevel. This whole, Jon-seeing-him-naked thing, might take a while longer to get used to.

He's still confused until Jon shimmies down his legs and bends down, lips brushing along the inside of his thigh, and suddenly, he gets it. "Fuck," he gasps, sitting up on his elbows and cranes his neck to peer down at him. "Jon."

Looking up through thick eyelashes, Jon smiles cheekily, and nips the sensitive skin just below his hardening cock.

"Are you ― " Spencer's cut off as Jon's mouth nudges over, nose dragging over the coarse, wiry hair, hot breath brushing against him. "Shit," he curses. He is totally about to get a blow job. In the backseat of Jon's car. In a children's playground parking lot.

Fuck.

Jon's tongue is the first thing to come into contact, nothing more than a quick lick over the tip, but Spencer presses his head back against the worn cushion, whimpering. For awhile, Spencer thought he'd be thirty before he ever had a mouth on his dick.

He keeps his hands beside him, fingers tugging on his own shirt. He figures Jon probably wouldn't appreciate him pulling his hair like bloody murder while taking him in, inch by inch.

Feeling himself hit the back of Jon's throat, no problem, he can't help but think of all the practice he must've had to be able to do that. However, the thought is quickly pushed away as Jon's mouth slides back up, tonguing the tip.

When Jon's hand comes into contact with his balls, Spencer's hands take on a life of their own, and shoot to his head, fingers knotting into the small tufts of hair. Jon doesn't seem to mind though, lips still stretched around him, so Spencer keeps them there, chest rising and falling with rapid, heavy breaths. "Shit," he babbles. "Jon, fuck. What the ― Oh god, I love you. I love you. Shit. You are awesome."

Jon smiles around him, hands now working on his shaft, and Spencer is pretty sure Jon should win an award for giving the world’s most awesome head. He's aware he has nothing else to compare to, but he really doubts it could get much better than this.

"I'm sorry. Sorry," he pants, thumb pressing against Jon's cheek, the tip of his index finger resting on the corner of his mouth, stretched around his cock. Hands down, Jon sucking dick ― his dick, most importantly ― is the hottest thing ever. "But, like. I'm totally going to come soon. I'm sorry, I'm not even embarrassed. I'm a virgin, okay, and this is really fucking hot."

Jon chuckles as Spencer hits the back of his throat once more, and he slams his head against the seat, fingers digging into Jon's scalp. "Shit, I'm gonna ― " Spencer moans, and promptly releases inside Jon's mouth without further warning.

He makes a small, choking noise in response, but he keeps his mouth on him anyway. Spencer watches his Adam's Apple in utter amazement, bobbing up and down as he swallows. It's official, Jon is never allowed to leave him. He's his forever.

Only once Spencer's finished completely, not a single drop left in him, Jon pulls off, licking his lips. He smiles smugly as Spencer looks up at him in awe. "See, not a drop. You have nothing to worry about."

Spencer laughs, mind still off and floating somewhere above them. "Thanks."

Jon slides back down, covering his body like a warm blanket. He pulls his jeans and underwear with him, and Spencer lifts his hips, allowing him to slide them back on the rest of the way. Tucking him into his boxers, still leaving the fly of his jeans undone, Jon presses a wet, messy kiss to his lips.

Spencer pulls back, nose scrunched, the taste of himself on the back of his tongue. "Ew. Gross."

"I think it tastes good," he purrs, wiggling his eyebrows, and Spencer makes a face. "God." Jon nudges his nose against his, and murmurs huskily, "You're so hot when you're turned on, all incoherent and rambling." He presses his hips against Spencer's thigh, cock straining against the denim.

Spencer seriously has the most awesome boyfriend ever.

Sitting up on his elbow, Jon looks down at him with a large, overly-pleased smirk on his face. Spencer frowns, confused and slightly worried. "So, um," he starts, the other hand not holding himself up, creeping up Spencer's shirt and running along his belly, "you love me, huh?" He breaks out into a grin as Spencer returns with a horrified expression.

"Shut up," he hisses, cheeks reddening. "It was my first blow job and it was awesome. I didn't know what I was saying."

"Okay," he says, long and drawn-out, tone disbelieving. He's just teasing, Spencer knows he is, but he punches him in the arm anyways.

"Shut up," he repeats, the tips of his ears now burning red. "You're never going to let this go, aren't you? Just like the condom thing."

Jon shrugs, eyeing the ceiling of his car in contentment. "I don't know. Maybe, maybe not."

Spencer scowls. "You're seriously lucky you just gave me an amazing blowjob."

"Or what?"

"Or I would make you suffer with that," he says, cheekily, grazing his hand along the bulge poking against the crotch of his jeans.

Jon laughs, bending down to press a kiss to Spencer's mouth, tongue flicking along his. He smirks as Spencer pops the button open, humming into his mouth, "Well, that's a good thing then, huh?"

*

An hour and one, terrifying attempt at a blowjob later, Jon drops Spencer off at Ryan's. He's surprised to see Mr. Ross' car in the driveway again, and when he answers the door, smiling and welcoming him inside, eyes clear and breath smelling of peppermint, Spencer thinks he might be wrong with what he had assumed was going on with Ryan.

Upstairs, music is blasting from underneath Ryan's door, intrusive and somehow, even more emo-sounding than the usual music he's accustomed to. He knocks, but he doubts Ryan can hear over the noise, so he opens it himself, hoping for the best. He's relieved to find Ryan lying on his bed, fully clothed, and staring up at the ceiling, appearing to be in deep thought.

"Hey," he yells, shutting the door behind him and Ryan looks up, startled.

"What are you doing here?" He frowns, settling back into his pillows.

"I came to apologize," he replies, walking over to his stereo and cranks the volume down a few notches, back to human level. The Hawthorne Heights CD case is open next to it, and Spencer knows this is never a good sign; Ryan only brings it out for drastic measures.

"I don't really feel like talking right now."

"Well, too bad, 'cause you're going to anyways," Spencer replies stubbornly. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, Ryan's long legs brushing against his back. "I'm going to say something, and want you to just listen, okay? And then when I'm done, you can say whatever it is you want, and I'll do the same for you." Spencer looks over at Ryan for confirmation, and slowly, he nods. "Okay," he starts, taking a deep breath, "I get why you'd be a little upset over me telling Jon, but I almost feel like you're taking this too far. I can never do anything right anymore. It's like you're always finding some reason to get mad at me, and it's getting really fucking exhausting."

Ryan remains silent except for a small sigh, and it vaguely surprises Spencer. He was expecting him to instantly jump in, defending himself and blaming Jon, like always. "That's not true," he eventually says. "It's just ― It's been really stressful lately, and I just miss hanging out with my best friend, you know? Maybe it's a bit selfish but I'm not used to sharing you, and sometimes ― I don't know," he ducks his head, tone turning meek, "I get the feeling you care more about Jon than you do about me."

"Ryan, come on. You know that's not true," Spencer insists, quiet but firm. "You're my best friend, and that means more to me than Jon, or any other boyfriend for that matter. It's just really hard. I try to balance my time but it's like I've constantly got the two of you pulling me in opposite directions. I can never win with you guys, and neither of you seem to understand that." Ryan's expression changes, pulling into something of guilt, and Spencer quickly adds, "And I know it doesn't make it any better, but he's my first boyfriend, you know? It's so strange to like this person so much and want to be around them all the time. Of course I want to hang out with you too, and it's horrible, but I ― I guess in the beginning I was almost thinking that we've had years before and we'll have years after to hang out, but not Jon, so I should make the most of what I do have with him, you know? But then I realized that's a horrible way to think, that I can't ditch you along the way or else you won't be there in the future, and now I'm trying. Really hard."

Ryan sighs, resting his head against the pillow, and presses his palm to his face. "Shit, I bet you were wishing it worked out with Pete so you didn't have to deal with me so much, huh?" He laughs into his hand, but Spencer can tell even by the muffled sound, that he knows it's anything but funny.

"No, actually," Spencer admits, "I don't."

Ryan pulls his hand from his face, frowning.

"You know I didn't trust that guy from the beginning," Spencer says, and reaches forward to smooth a comforting hand along Ryan's calf. "Honestly, Ryan, I know what he did really sucks, but if you think about it, it's almost better that he did it now, instead of months down the road when it would've hurt even more." Ryan shrugs, seemingly unconvinced. "You know it would've," Spencer presses, looking him in the eye.

Ryan blinks, and Spencer catches the wetness in his eyes before he's pulling his knees to his chest, pressing his face into his lap. Sighing, Spencer scoots over until he's next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and nudges his forehead against ear. "Come on, Ryan," he says softly, "it's okay. He's just some jerk."

Little by little, Ryan lifts his head back up and looks at Spencer, eyes still brimmed with tears. "Spencer." It's cracked, tiny and vulnerable, like a child, and even though a part of Spencer wants to shake Ryan by the shoulders and tell him to move on, it's enough to make his heart ache.

"Ryan, what ― "

He shakes his head, hair hanging in front of his eyes. "I don't ― I didn't want to tell you. I ― I can't."

"Ryan," Spencer frowns, voice straining with worry, "what is it? You can tell me."

He shakes his head again, swallowing. "No," he chokes out, "I can't."

"Ryan ― "

He mumbles into his legs, and Spencer freezes, color draining from his face, hoping he'd heard wrong. He had to, he must’ve, because there's no way Ryan would ―

Shit.

Spencer takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and braces himself. "What?"

"I slept with him," Ryan repeats, clearer this time. When Spencer opens his eyes, Ryan's looking straight ahead, Adam's Apple bobbing as he pushes the ball of his hands into his eye sockets. His shoulders are tensed, hair covering his face and Spencer stares at him, lost.

"I didn't want to tell you," he says after a few minutes of silence, Spencer's mouth opening and closing as he tries to rack his brain for something to say, but he can't seem to get passed the fact that Ryan slept with Pete. Ryan sniffs, and wraps his knees in an even tighter hug. "I didn't want you to ― I just ― " He stops himself, shaking his head.

Spencer swallows, large enough to make a sound, and breathes out a bewildered, "Shit, Ryan." Wrapping an arm around Ryan's waist, he pulls him backwards until his spine bumps into his chest. Ryan's resistant at first, but Spencer ignores him, pressing his nose into his shoulder, and he feels him slowly begin to relax, sinking into him.

"I wasn't going to tell you," he repeats, and Spencer can feel his shoulders shake. "I was just ― fuck. I was so ― so embarrassed. I don't get it, Spencer. I don’t. All this time I've been judging everyone else, you included, and Christ. Jon's your boyfriend. Even if you did have sex with him, at least you know he likes you. And there I go, sleeping with some guy after a week."

"When ― When was this?" he asks carefully, hooking his chin onto Ryan's shoulder.

"On Friday."

"You mean ― " Spencer starts, thinking back to Saturday morning when he had come over, demanding why he hadn't been answering his phone. When Ryan was limping, saying it was because of his leg, and Spencer believed him. He knows Ryan like the back of his hand, but somehow, he still believed him. "You slept with him and then he ― "

"Dumped me?" he finishes, flatly. "Yeah." His rests his head against Spencer's chest, pushing the heels of his hands to his eyes. "We pretty much did it, and then he was being all weird and distant and then he drove me home, and he ― " he swallows, taking an unsteady breath before continuing, "he told me that like, he doesn't want a relationship or whatever." His expression suddenly changes, turning into something darker. "Which is like, God. All along he was telling me all this crap. That he liked me, that anyone would be lucky to have me as their boyfriend. He kept telling me that when you're older, sex isn't like it is in high school, and basically everyone just ― does it right away. And like, I don't even know. I just ― I fucking believed him."

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut, and Spencer feels so stupid. He feels like an asshole. He should've known, he should've been more supportive, instead of telling him to get over it. He knows Ryan, he should've known there was something else.

"Even after the first night, he kept pressuring me to have sex with him, and I kept saying no. And then on Friday, I just ― I did because I didn't think he'd stick around much longer if I didn't. Turns out," he scoffs, "he didn't stick around anyway.

"All this time I've been calling other teenagers naive, but look at me; you can't get much more stupid than that. To believe such shit. That he actually liked me and sex was just something I had to do to like, I don't know, actually have a relationship with him," he spits, tears now gone and replaced with anger.

Spencer sucks in a breath, still at a loss for words. Pressing his face into the back of Ryan's shoulder, he squeezes him around his waist.

"I didn't want to tell you because it was so hypocritical. I just feel so ― so sick. It's like I can't stand being in my own skin. I can't ― it's not something I can just take back, Spin."

Spencer wishes he knew what to say. He feels like an idiot, a horrible best friend, just sitting there without a single word to say as Ryan pours his heart out next to him, practically in tears. "Ryan," he starts helplessly, "I'm so sorry. I don't know ― I'm not sure what to say…"

He shrugs loosely. "It's fine. This is better than what I expected. I thought you'd yell at me and call me a slut."

"No, I think you're punishing yourself enough as it is."

Ryan sniffs, quiet for a moment before says in a small voice, "I wish I just would've listened to you and Jon. Why didn't I listen, Spencer?"

"I - I don't know," he answers lamely.

"I just thought that ― that maybe for once someone really liked me. Someone real who wasn't just on the internet, you know?"

"Come on. You know that's not true," Spencer protests.

"You keep saying that, Spencer, but I don't see anyone lining up to date me." Spencer goes to open his mouth, but Ryan cuts him off, rolling his eyes, "Yeah, yeah. Tom, I know. You told me once or twice."

"What's wrong with Tom?" Spencer demands.

"Nothing," he says. "Nothing is wrong with Tom, that's the thing. I'm just finding it a bit hard to believe he actually likes me."

"Why?"

"Because, it's Tom, and it's me," he replies, eyes widening, looking at Spencer like he should know this.

"So? I thought that about Jon," he points out, "and now look."

"That's different," he says.

"How?"

Ryan shrugs. "It just is."

"It actually isn't, at all," Spencer says, sighing in exasperation, "but whatever."

Ryan presses his lips together, stubborn as always and unwilling to cave. There's a long lull, neither of them speaking until Spencer clears his throat, smiling lopsidedly at Ryan and poking at his ribcage. "So, um. Do you want to like, watch a movie and stuff our faces with Ben & Jerry's, and I don't know, cuddle or something?" he suggests, teasing. Well, kind of.

Ryan rolls his eyes but he laughs, and Spencer can tell it's genuine from the way his belly rumbles underneath his t-shirt. That’s a relief, at least. "Okay," he agrees, fighting back the smile. "But I don't have any ice cream though."

Spencer pulls a face, already standing up and patting his wallet in his back pocket. "Well, let's go then. We can't have a chick, crying fest without it."

"You know, my best friend really is a loser," he notes, standing up. He heads towards the door, still dressed in sweats and an oversized sweater.

"So is mine," Spencer replies flippantly, kicking him in the butt as he follows him out.

*

"You can ask me, you know."

Spencer blushes, pulling a pillow in front of his face. "I don't want to, like ― " He shrugs, cheeks flaming in guilt.

Ryan chuckles, rolling his eyes. "It was okay," he says, spooning ice cream into his mouth. "I mean, I expected more. It really fucking hurt, and then it was just uncomfortable, and then by the time it started to get somewhat good, it was over."

Spencer's eyes widen, and he bites at the loose end of the pillow case nervously. Suddenly, he doesn't feel so set on allowing Jon to stick his cock inside of him. "Like really, really hurt? Like how?"

Ryan's eyes roll up to the ceiling in contemplation. "Like you're getting ripped in two, almost. It hurt so bad for awhile that I was actually scared he was doing it wrong and something was going to like, I don't know. Break or something."

Face blanching, Spencer gulps. Okay, right. Definitely crossing sex of his list. Celibacy is cool in some cultures, right?

Ryan, noticing his expression of horror, laughs lightly. "Don't freak out," he says. "I'm sure it gets better, you know? There's obviously a reason why people keep doing it." He rolls his eyes dryly, picking at a loose thread on his quilt. "It probably helps when the guy's not an asshole either. I don't think he was too concerned with trying to make it feel good for me in the first place, so." He shrugs indifferently, like he doesn't care, but Spencer can see right through it; the sadness in his eyes.

Reaching out, he squeezes Ryan's shoulder consolingly, and he turns to look at him, sending him a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks," he murmurs softly. "You know, for being here for me. I know you probably want to be with Jon."

"No," Spencer replies instantly, and he's surprised to see how much he actually means it. "That's what friends are for, right?"

Ryan laughs, shaking his head at the sap. "Yeah, I guess so." He smiles, and drops his head onto Spencer's shoulder, breathing heavily through his mouth.

Spencer didn't realize just how much he had missed Ryan until now.

*

By the time Friday rolls around, Jon's anything but impressed.

He pulls Spencer off to the side at lunch, hands shoved into his pockets and face pulled into an irritated scowl. "So, are we going to ever hang out again or what?" His eyes flick over to Ryan a couple tables away, head ducked as he chews on his pizza.

"Yes, Jon." He sighs, feeling his own rush of agitation run through him. "Ryan's just having a hard week. He needed his best friend."

Jon rolls his eyes. "What, because his 'boyfriend' dumped him?" he asks sardonically.

"Actually, no," Spencer snaps, jaw tightening and cheeks flushing with anger. "And don't be an asshole."

Jon rolls his shoulders, a guilty expression coming over his face. Spencer pulls his arms tighter across his chest and stares at him, expectedly. "Well, what is it then?"

"I can't tell you that," Spencer replies. "It has to do with Ryan, not me, and seeing as what happened the last time, I really doubt he'd appreciate me telling you this."

Jon nods, understandably, but he doesn't look any more content as he runs his fingers through his scruff. "Can you come to a party with me tonight, at least?" he asks after a moment.

"If Ryan wants to, then yeah."

Jon gives a frustrated huff, displeased by the answer, but Spencer shoots him an unimpressed look and he snaps his mouth shut. "Fine, whatever. Cool," he says forcedly. Spencer's pretty sure his boyfriend is a twelve year-old.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go back to eat my lunch now," Spencer says, inching back towards the table where Ryan sits. "You can either join us or go whine somewhere else."

Jan narrows his eyes, as if considering doing just that, but Spencer doesn't wait for his decision before turning back on his heel and heads towards the table. Thirty seconds later, Jon comes sulking up behind him, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to him. He doesn't say anything, and Spencer smiles into his hand, victoriously.

*

Jon agrees to pick them up at Ryan's house, but doesn't sound too overjoyed at doing so.

Tom's in the passenger seat when he arrives, and Ryan gives Spencer a light punch in the back on the way to the car, hissing. "You didn't tell me Tom was coming."

Spencer laughs, because he might've maybe known, but didn't want to tell Ryan about it in case he chickened out. Which he probably would have, knowing him.

"Dick."

"Hey, you'll thank me," Spencer replies, grinning mischievously as they approach the car. "Now's your chance to make a move."

"Shut up." He scowls, cheeks flushing red, but Spencer's already sliding into the backseat.

Tom is the first to greet them ― or well, Ryan at least ― as he turns around to flash him a slightly bashful smile. "Hi, Ryan."

"Um. Hey," he replies uneasily, a small rash of light pink poking up from underneath his V-neck.

Spencer takes a hold of his bottom lip between his teeth, biting back the laugh. Jon meets his gaze through the rear-view, grinning as he backs out of the driveway. "Hi to you too, Tom," Spencer says, smiling wickedly.

"Oh, um. Yeah, hey, Spencer," he mumbles, the part of his face that Spencer can see behind the seat flushing red.

Ryan shoots him a heavy, stop-it-right-now-before-I-eat-your-firstborn glare, and Spencer smiles back, batting his eyelashes in innocence. He can't help it sometimes; Ryan's too easy to bug.

"You guy's haven't eaten, right?" Jon asks. When they both shake their head, he says, "I was thinking we could stop and get some dinner."

"Sure!" Spencer automatically pipes in, grinning at the prospect of a double date. Next to him, Ryan sinks further into his seat.

They stop at Georgie's, a popular burger joint a few blocks from their school, and Spencer lets Jon and Tom go ahead as he lags behind with Ryan, poking him in the ribs. "This is so a double-date right now."

Ryan scowls, but Spencer knows he totally loves it. "I hate you."

"And he loves you." He grins, ruffling his hair before skipping ahead to Jon, snaking an arm around his waist.

Inside, Spencer squeezes into the U-shaped booth next to Jon, leaving Tom and Ryan with no choice but to sit next to each other on the end. They both look shy and awkward as they fidget around, a space that could fit an entire other body between them. Spencer kind of loves how cute and ridiculous they are.

Jon rests a hand on his knee underneath the table, and nudges his forehead against his temple, lips brushing against his ear. "Missed you," he murmurs.

Facing him, Spencer smiles and leans forward for a kiss. "Me too," he agrees. Even though Jon was a giant pain in the ass three-quarters of the past week, he couldn’t help missing him.

"Do they do this to you all the time too?" Spencer hears Tom ask after a moment of exchanging kisses. He pulls away from Jon, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and trying not to blush.

"Yes," Ryan replies, "all the time."

"It's pretty disturbing."

"Tell me about it," Ryan agrees dryly, and Spencer turns to face him, sticking out his tongue.

"You like it."

Ryan makes a face, grimacing. "No. I really don't."

Jon laughs, squeezing Spencer's knee.

Their waitress is a few years older than them, looking tired and worn out with her hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She smiles at them, the nametag clipped on her black t-shirt reading Mona. "Hey, guys. What can I get you to drink?"

They order a round of Cokes, and she disappears into the back to get them. The diner's pretty busy for a Friday night, packed with teenagers such as themselves, their stop before a party or a first date. He looks at Ryan and Tom, now in the beginnings of awkward small talk, and smiles to himself.

By the time they've ordered and their food has come, the space between them has closed and they've made plans for Tom to come take pictures of the musical rehearsal for the newspaper. Even Jon looks pleased, and the only thing Spencer wishes for is that this came sooner.

Once they've finished their meals, Jon digs into his pocket to pay for himself and Spencer. When Ryan takes out his wallet, however, Tom is nudging it away, saying, "Don't worry about it. I'll pay for it."

Ryan's entire face turns red as he looks up at him, shaking his head. "Oh, no. I ― "

"No, really. It's okay. Save your money." Without another word, Tom pulls out two crumpled twenty dollar bills from his wallet, throwing them onto the table. His cheeks are pink as well, and Spencer has to bite onto his fingertips to stop himself from squealing.

Ryan ducks his head, clear he's trying to bite back the grin, but he fails miserably. "Oh, um. Thank you," he murmurs.

Spencer waits until after they leave the restaurant, tailing behind with Ryan again, before tackling him, and squeals into his ear, quiet enough so Tom doesn't overhear. "Oh my god," he cries excitedly, squeezing his elbow. "I am so excited for you."

He rolls his eyes, blushing face illuminated in the artificial, light streaming down from the diner's sign. "Shut up," he says, but he's grinning from ear to ear.

Spencer laughs, squeezing onto his arm once more, and Ryan grins harder.

*

It's barely past nine when they arrive at the party. The house is on the outskirts of town, five times bigger than his own, yet it's packed to the brim with people. Spencer barely recognizes half of them, all bleary eyed and stumbling around. He's been to exactly four parties in his life, all of which involved a game of spin the bottle and non-spiked punch.

Spencer spots a guy standing by the staircase, chugging back a bottle of straight whiskey. He switches his gaze to Ryan, worriedly, and asks, "Are you okay? Are you sure you want to be here? Because we can leave if you want."

"Relax, idiot," Ryan replies, rolling his eyes. "I can be around alcohol without having a mental breakdown, you know."

Chewing on his bottom lip, Spencer looks over him unsurely. "Okay, but if you're uncomfortable just tell me and we'll go."

"Yes, mother," he drawls, dryly.

Jon wraps an arm around Spencer, hand pressing along the small of his back as he leads them through the crowd and into the kitchen. Tom goes off to greet some guy, slapping him on the back and grinning. Spencer catches Ryan's eyes lingering for a moment before they're flicking away to take in his surroundings. Spencer knows that look. He totally wants him.

Jon places a case of beer down onto the table already scattered with bottles, cans and plastic cups. Spencer runs his eyes across it all with wide eyes, wondering where everyone had gotten it from. Surely, they couldn't have stolen it all from their parents, and it's not like he sees too many twenty-one year olds walking around.

"How'd you get that?"

"What? The beer?" Jon asks, and Spencer nods. "I don't know," He shrugs, ripping the case open and pulling out two bottles, "there's this beer vendor down the street I always go to. They never ask for ID because of the beard, I guess."

"Huh," Spencer muses.

"Here," he says, handing him one of the beers.

Spencer gazes down at it hesitantly, and then over to Ryan whose attention is now back on them, seemingly unfazed. When he notices Spencer is looking at him approval, he rolls his eyes and says, "Oh my god. I don't care, okay?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he confirms through gritted teeth.

Spencer sighs in defeat, going to pop the lid off his beer. It doesn't work out so well though, and it leaves him with a burning, red rash on the inside of his palm. He frowns, handing it off to Jon who is already chugging his own back.

He laughs, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and takes the bottle from Spencer. He gets it off with one try, white foam fizzing to the top. Glaring, Spencer grabs it back from him. "You suck," he says, taking a small sip.

He's drunken alcohol before, once last Christmas and once at their family vacation two summers ago. Both had been with his cousin, Jeremy, when they were bored and decided to sneak it behind their parent's back. He hadn't gotten drunk, buzzed maybe, and he ended up passing out with exhaustion before it got to be any fun.

Jon smiles smugly, taking a sip as Tom reappears at their side, a red cup in his hand. His eyes instantly slide over to Ryan's empty hands, expression perking at the chance. "Do you want anything to drink, Ryan? Alcohol? Coke? Punch?"

"Um," Ryan starts, wrapping his arms around his chest shyly, "water's fine, I guess. Thanks."

"Good choice." Tom smiles. "I wouldn't trust anything else here."

Ryan giggles as Tom pushes his way through a group of girls towards the sink. "He so wants you." Spencer smiles at Ryan over his beer.

He rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance, but the blush sweeping across his cheeks eliminates any believability. "Shut up."

"Even ask Jon," Spencer insists. "Right, Jon?" He nudges his hip encouragingly, raising an eyebrow. "Tom totally wants Ryan."

"I'm not saying anything." Jon puts up his hands, but there's a smile tugging on his lips that tells different.

"That means yes," Spencer tells Ryan.

"You." Jon chuckles fondly, and wraps an arm around his head, pulling him into his side.

Spencer slaps his hand away, yanking himself from his hold. "Asshole," he says, immediately smoothing down his hair, "don't mess up my hair."

"You don't want to know who you just sounded like there," Jon says, cracking up. Spencer narrows his eyes at him. He doesn't think he wants to either.

Taking the last sip of his beer, Jon lets out a loud belch, slamming the bottle down onto the counter. Spencer scrunches his nose in disgust, but Jon ignores him as he reaches for a second. Spencer's barely taken two sips out of his; he's never been much of a beer fan, tastes too stale and bitter against his tongue. He much prefers those fruity drinks him and Jeremy snuck in Mexico, but he doubts there's any of those floating around here.

Tom appears at their side again, a glass of ice water in tow. He hands it over to Ryan, smiling sheepishly. "There you go. I found a jug in the fridge."

"Thanks," Ryan murmurs, eyes ducking shyly from his.

Spencer resists the urge to wrap them both in a giant, bear-hug. That, or throw them into a locked room until they admit they have adorable, schoolgirl crushes on each other. At least with Tom, he can take the added relief that he won't fuck and chuck his best friend, like Pete had so gladly done. Well, he hopes he doesn't at least. Spencer knows where to find him if he does.

Jon nods towards the bottle still full in his hands. "Are you going to drink that or what?" he asks. "If not, I'll have it."

"No," Spencer refuses, cradling it to his chest, "I'll drink it." To prove a point, he brings it to his lips, chugging back the bitter liquid until he splutters.

"I didn't mean to chug it, dumb-ass," Jon retorts. "Have you even drank before?"

Spencer narrows his eyes, offended, the fizz from the beer bubbling up his throat. "Yes, I've drank before, thank you."

"Okay. Whatever you say, Princess," he teases.

"I'll show you," he replies, loftily, and lifts the bottle back to his mouth, chugging back the rest.

Jon grins, and says, "You're on."

*

part four