a sensation of falling (eventual gsf) - part 4
master post | to remember, i | to remember, ii | to dream | to move, i | to move, ii | to wake | fanart | fanmix
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
[to move: a new direction]
Spencer slams his book shut, frustrated. Restlessness makes his fingers twitch against the cover and he’d really, really like to go mess around on his kit, but he’s got mid-terms soon and he’s seriously unprepared. He’d hoped that the atmosphere of the college library would be conducive to getting some work done, but-he looks around-it’s too damn quiet.
His gaze flickers over the room again. Heads are bent, intent on whatever they’re studying. There’s a quiet shuffle of pages turning and Spencer kind of wants to yell. He hates these moods, and fortunately they don’t happen often. But dammit, he’s got to study. Freshman year had been, well, not a breeze what with the adjusting to a new city, a new life, but it had been filled with core classes. Easy classes. Physics has entirely too much math, but Spencer enjoys the challenge.
What he needs is some noise, something that will make him work at ignoring all the extraneous stuff and focus on his books. And coffee. Coffee would be good, too.
Spencer gathers up his stuff and takes off. Starbucks it is then.
*
Laughter erupts behind the counter, but Spencer’s barely paying any attention. The table he’s seated at looks like a copier vomited all over it. On his left, a notebook is spilling out half its contents and on his right is a mostly empty coffee cup. There's a tiny bit that he swirls around for the third time. He sets it back down with a sigh.
Ten minutes later, his fingers slide around the cup and it’s halfway to his mouth when he remembers that there’s still nothing in it. Frowning, he’s about to get up when a voice over his shoulder, asks, “Hey, dude, you need a refill?"
The voice is quiet, but there’s humor at its edges. Something niggles at the back of his head, but Spencer just nods with a quiet please and dismisses it. The barista fills it up and Spencer's reaching for it almost before he's done.
"Sorry, I couldn't get to you earlier, we had a rush. But watching you frown at your empty cup was entertaining, I can't lie." The guy chuckles and Spencer's hand stills at the sound. It's been nearly two years, but he knows that laugh. He's almost afraid to look, but it's like a compulsion. He can't stop himself.
He's got a little bit more weight, but his nose is the same crooked one from summers spent on the dock, running through the fields. "Jon," Spencer whispers.
Jon tilts his head, grinning. "Yeah, how'd you know? Oh, wait, duh." He reaches to the strap on his apron. "My nameta-"
It's not there and Jon glances back up, curious. "I just started yesterday. Have we met before?" Spencer chokes on the beginnings of hysterical laughter. It causes the coffee in his hand slosh over the edge of his cup and he hisses at the sudden burn, dropping the cup.
"Dude, are you okay?" He grabs Spencer's elbow and drags him into the men's bathroom. Spencer just stands there staring at Jon's down-turned head as he sticks Spencer's hand under the cold water. Jon looks up and Spencer sucks in a giant gulp of air. Concern is etched all over Jon's face, the look so familiar that Spencer's stomach ties itself into knots. A second later, he's on his knees in front of the toilet, heaving until there's nothing left.
"Shit, man. Are you-"
Spencer scrambles backwards when Jon's hand lands on his shoulder, spitting out, "Don't touch me!"
Jon holds up his hands, backing off, but not moving away. The wall tile is cool against his back and Spencer tries to think, to process.
"Listen," Jon says softly. Oh god, he's even got the lisp, Spencer notes. "Obviously something's wrong. Is there anyone I can call for you?"
My shrink, Spencer wants to say, since he's obviously finally gone crazy, but he shakes his head. He doesn't trust himself to speak. They both startle at a knock on the door. A muffled voice asks, "You okay in there, Jonny Walker?"
Keeping his eyes on Spencer's, Jon throws over his shoulder, "Good, yeah. Thanks." To Spencer, "We are, aren't we? Good, that is." He stands, holding out a hand. Spencer stares at it for a minute before raising his gaze. Jon smiles.
Swallowing hard, Spencer reaches out and slides his hand into Jon's. It's so strange. Spencer can feel the callouses, the strength there as he pulls Spencer up. He's fine until he's standing, until Jon says, "Pretty good grip you got there, you play?" And he realizes that Jon can touch him, can feel him. This is real.
Spencer pushes past Jon, knocks into a couple people as he rushes out of the building, and doesn't look back.
*
He calls Ryland, but hangs up the minute his voice comes on the phone.
*
“Hey-" Jon barely gets the words out before Spencer slams the door in his face.
“Okay, man.” The sigh is audible through the door. Jon's voice is wary, slightly frustrated, as he continues, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I freaked you out somehow and I’d really like to apologize. Maybe even find out what I did.” There’s a pause and Jon raps his knuckles on the door. “But I’m not doing it to your door, okay?”
Spencer doesn’t respond, just slumps against the door.
“Right,” Jon mutters. Louder, “And I’m keeping your bag until you open the door.”
He focuses on each breath. In. Out. After a few minutes, Jon leaves.
*
Jon comes back the next day, and the day after that. He comes back every day that week.
*
“These books are kinda heavy, Spencer Smit-oh.”
Jon looks startled. Spencer’s grip on the door frame makes his fingers ache. The door’s open, but he can’t seem to make himself speak. They stare at each other. This Jon is a little softer around the edges, Spencer thinks again. He wonders if this Jon's hair does the same soft curls when it's not straightened and hanging ridiculously in his face like it is now. Not that Spencer has any room to talk. In a fit of restlessness he'd taken a pair of scissors to his own hair two days ago. It's sticking up in soft spikes all over now.
“Hey,” Jon says. He’s studying Spencer even as Spencer can’t seem to stop staring. "I like your hair. Although," he frowns, tilting his head to the side. "You do kind of look like a lesbian now." Startled, Spencer laughs. It's true, he kind of does, he knows.
"There it is," Jon says softly, grinning. There’s something on Jon’s face, a quiet question. And curiosity, definitely. He seems to know that Spencer’s really fragile.
Spencer opens the door and steps back. After a moment’s hesitation, Jon comes in.
*
It's strange, being around Jon again.
He's the same, and yet he's not at all. This Jon-realrealreal-is a little more sarcastic, a little more passive-aggressive. He'll dog Spencer for answers, over and over, until Spencer wants to yell and then three seconds later, let it slide altogether. This Jon still likes to touch though, throw his arm around Spencer's shoulders, knock his elbow against Spencer's arm. A thousand little touches that each time, Spencer has to keep himself from flinching at. There's always a second's hesitation right after, but Jon never drops his arm. Never says a word even though he's got to have noticed. And when Jon does finally move away, drops his arm, his hand, Spencer wants to grab it back. He has to stop himself from holding on too tight, like Jon will slip away again.
It's frustrating and terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. And Spencer can't seem to make himself walk away.
*
He wants to ask sometimes, if there's a Thomas, a William, for Jon. But Spencer's not sure he could take the answer, be it yes or no, so he never does.
*
Over the next few weeks, Jon persistently seeks out Spencer. Movies and concerts and study sessions, any excuse he can seem to get Spencer out of his apartment. He discovers that Spencer drums and after a moment's hesitation, Spencer thinks fuck it and they walk a half mile down the road to a small storage building. Jon seems to know this is something important, not saying a word until Spencer rolls up the unit door. It's only 10 x 15, but it's big enough for Spencer's simple kit. There's an electrical outlet on one wall, a small heater/fan nearby.
"We should jam sometime, Spencer Smith," is all Jon says. He plays bass, Spencer knows. Like Brent.
It's nice to have a friend again.
*
They share a love of music, Spencer learns. Jon tends towards more classic stuff, the Beatles and the Beach Boys. Mellow, like Jon himself. Spencer's more a fan of music with interesting beats, diverse and difficult. Anything that makes him focus and quiets the noise in his own head. And while they're never quite his favorite, Spencer enjoys Jon's enthusiastic attempts to convince Spencer otherwise.
*
Spencer doesn't go home for Christmas, and Jon just looks at him, but doesn't ask any questions. They do some Christmas shopping and Spencer finds himself talking about his family, about his sisters, as they wander through Forever 21. He stares at Jon and thinks he has no idea what size to get. It's been over a year since he's seen them.
Something must show on his face because Jon reaches out, a hand on Spencer's elbow. "You all right, Spence?"
He shakes the hand off, reaching up to scrub his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. "Yeah, it's nothing." He'll call tonight, talk to his mom. She'll know what the girls will want. She'll be happy that he's asked.
"Wanna get something to eat?" he asks, looking over at Jon. Patting his stomach, Jon just grins, letting him change the subject. "You know it, Smith."
*
Jon only asks about the pills once, early into the spring semester.
He's digging through Spencer's backpack for a pen. "Jesus, Jon. They're in the front pocket," -and Spencer hears the tell-tale sound of rattling before Jon pops back up, bottle in hand. He's reading the label, a frown marring his brow.
"Spence? What's this?"
In his head he grabs them out of Jon's hand, yells at him for touching. Instead, Spencer just shrugs. "I have trouble sleeping."
Jon just stares at him and Spencer can see that he wants to push it, ask why. But he just nods and bends down to put them back. When he rises, he's got one of Spencer's spare pens in his hand, and they continue to study in silence.
*
Spencer looks up at the sound of a shutter-click. Jon lowers his camera a bit, grinning like as asshole and Spencer glares at him. The camera goes off again and he growls, "Jon."
"Come on, Spencer," Jon whines as he slides into the seat across from Spencer. "It's amazing outside. We should head down to Oz."
Spencer raises an eyebrow, then deliberately glances outside. There's a soft layer of snow on the ground, more coming down in intermittent flurries at the wind's whim. Looking back at Jon, Spencer says slowly, "It's fucking snowing, Jon. You are high if you think I'm going anywhere other than back to my apartment. I'm sure as hell not going to the park."
He glances down at the table, glaring at the messy scrawl. What the hell was he thinking taking a comparative literature class? Sighing, Spencer drops his head into his arms on the table. He can't write for shit.
Jon sets his camera down on the table and presses the shutter again. Spencer narrows his eyes and Jon steeples his hands innocently over the top of it a second later. "We should go see the great and powerful Oz, Spence." He taps a finger on Spencer's paper. "Then you can ask for a brain."
Barking out a startled laugh, Spencer lifts his head. He's about to call Jon an ass, when Jon aaahs quietly, a happy tilt to the corner of his mouth.
Confused, Spencer grins out a curious, "What?"
"You should smile more, Spencer Smith." Jon's eyes always crinkle in the corner when he's really happy. Spencer realizes abruptly that he's always known that. Something turns in his stomach; it's not unpleasant, but definitely a bit unsettling.
Spencer rolls his eyes. He can feel a faint heat across his cheeks. "Whatever, Walker. I smile all the time."
"No," Jon disagrees. "You really don't."
*
"Fuck, Spencer, move your ass." Jon pushes at his back. "I need coffee. Need, need, need." He shoves again and Spencer sends his elbow back into Jon's chest. "Motherfucker, knock it off. The line's moving as fast as it can."
"We'd be at the counter already if I was working," Jon mutters. His head is resting in between Spencer's shoulder blades. Spencer rolls his eyes. They've just finished a marathon study session for finals and Spencer's eyes feel gritty, his hands shaking a little from lack of sleep. Apparently Jon gets extremely whiny and needy for coffee when he's been awake for more than 18 hours.
"Wuss," Spencer grumbles under his breath.
The line moves and just as Spencer's about to step away and leave Jon hanging, someone shoves into them and the both stumble forward. Spencer's patience is frayed and he turns around to bitch, but the person is already apologizing.
"Shit, sorry abou-Spencer?"
"Hey," Spencer swallows. "Trevor."
"Wow, Spencer. Um, it's been a while." Spencer nods. He can feel Jon's curiosity as he looks back and forth between the two of them. They're both standing there staring at each other. Jon coughs and Spencer startles at the sound. The noise seems to remind Trevor that there's another person there. "Oh! Ah, sorry about that-" He waves a hand around, looking back at Spencer almost immediately.
"You look good," Trevor says quietly. "Happy."
Spencer swallows again, looking down at his feet. "Thanks."
He watches as Jon steps in closer. "So, I'm Jon."
There's a subtle edge in Jon's voice. Glancing up, Spencer can see the false smile on Jon's mouth as he offers a hand to Trevor.
"Oh! Right. I'm-I'm Trevor." He winces a little at Jon's grip.
"So, I gathered." The tone is bordering almost on rude now and Spencer frowns at Jon. There's a little reproach in the under-his-breath way he says Jon's name. When he looks back at Trevor, it's to see a widening smile. Before Spencer can say anything, apologize for Jon's behavior, Trevor's already taking his leave. "Anyway, I've gotta get out here. Study, study, study, you know?" Spencer nods.
Trevor takes a step closer and Spencer can feel Jon tense up beside him. What the hell? Trevor bites his lip. To keep from laughing, Spencer can tell. They hug awkwardly and then Trevor's gone.
After they've gotten their coffee and are walking back to his apartment, Spencer looks at Jon and says, "What the fuck was that all about?"
"What?"
"Don't be an asshole. You know what, that-" He waves a hand about. "That display with Trevor."
Jon shrugs and Spencer grinds his teeth. "Jon."
"Fine," he huffs out. "You never mentioned an ex-boyfriend wandering around the place." He sounds disgruntled, like Spencer deliberately didn't tell him. Or like he doesn't approve. Something twists in Spencer's stomach.
"Is that a problem?"
"No! Fuck. I just--well, I'd figured you pretty much asexual, Spence. You never look at girls, you never look at anyone." Except you, Spencer thinks abruptly. Shit. "And the whole thing caught me off guard."
"Oh."
They continue walking for a bit in silence and then Spencer offers in a quiet voice, "It was at the end of my freshman year. I-I wasn't really ready though."
"For dating a guy?"
"For having a relationship with someone. They, you know, expect to get as much as they give." Spencer takes a sip of his coffee to avoid looking at Jon. "I didn't really have a lot to give at the time." He doesn't talk about being scared to sleep next to someone even with the pills, or how Trevor would barely speak to him by the end. Jon hums in agreement. "It takes a lot of work, I'll give you that."
A few more steps and he starts talking about a band coming into town next weekend. They've got dual drummers, something he thinks Spencer would really be interested in seeing.
It's not until hours later that Spencer realizes Jon never really answered his question.
*
Jon's been acting a little weird the last week, quiet and withdrawn. They're sitting in the living room, nearly on opposite ends of the couch, watching a rerun of The Office when Spencer calls him on it.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jon mutters into his chest. He's slumped way down on the couch and it looks kind of uncomfortable. It's also typical Jon avoidance.
"No, really. You're acting weird. What gives?" He's about to reach over and punch Jon in the arm when he gives a heavy sigh and answers, "Trevor."
That-that is not what Spencer was expecting at all. He stills.
"It just got me thinking, you know?" Spencer raises an eyebrow in question. Jon elaborates with, "Guys."
Oh..
Spencer has no idea what to do with that. Although Jon's dated other people during the time Spencer's known him, they've always been girls. They've also never lasted past a few dates. Spencer's startled out of his thoughts by Jon's next words.
"I think you should kiss me."
"Oh, fuck no." Spencer shoves off the couch immediately, heading for the kitchen. This is not a conversation he wants to have now. Or ever.
"Why not?"
Spencer stops on the opposite side of the kitchen, leaning back against the counter. He gives Jon an incredulous look. "What the hell, do you hear yourself?"
There's a familiar stubborn look on Jon's face and Spencer swallows. Jon doesn't answer, just moves into Spencer's space. He puts an arm out to stop Jon. There's a pressure, Jon leaning forward into the touch even as he stops moving closer and Spencer can feel the heat under his hand.
In his mind, Spencer flashes to a memory-the light reflecting off the lake, watching the way Jon's skin looks warm from the sun. Pulling away from the cabinet puts him chest to chest with Jon. After a moment's hesitation, he dips his head and tries not to think about how this might be what he's wanted all along.
The beard feels strange, prickly yet soft, as he slides his fingers through it. As his fingers settle, cupping Jon's cheek, there's a small sigh and a parting of lips. Spencer reaches out then, to catch a taste. Jon's fingers tighten where they're resting on Spencer's waist. He can feel the way Jon trembles just a little and that, more than anything, makes him pull back. Jon follows with a little whine of disappointment. Spencer stares down at his lips, shiny and slick. Then he makes himself step away.
From somewhere he pulls out a nonchalant tone. "So. Kiss accomplished. Can we go back to watching TV now?" Sliding past Jon, he heads back into the living room.
Jon looks like he wants to argue, but just nods in agreement. So they end up back on the couch, sitting on opposite ends again. Spencer doesn't remember a single thing they watch that night.
*
Under his shirt Spencer can feel the sweat roll down his back. Even though the temperature has risen, the wind still holds a chill as it moves across his skin. As he steps out of the storage unit, he looks up and his breath catches. Jon's standing there, waiting, arms crossed over his chest.
"You are avoiding me, Spencer Smith."
Spencer huffs out, "And you are ridiculous Jon Walker," before starting down the street to his apartment. Unsurprisingly, Jon quickly steps into stride with him. Spencer lengthens his stride, forcing Jon to walk faster. It's kind a dick move, but he doesn't really want to talk to Jon right now. Talking to Jon means talking about the kiss and God, he doesn't even want to think about that.
It's all he's been thinking about for the last three days.
"You're freaking out." Jon tugs on his elbow. "And slow down, asshole."
Jerking away, Spencer hisses out, "Jesus, Jon, what?"
"You are freaking out," he repeats. "Which is hilarious given that I'm the one who's never kissed a guy before Tuesday."
That startles Spencer into stopping and he nearly ends up with an armful as he spins around. "What?"
"So. Here's the thing." He steps in closer, ignoring the question, and Spencer's breath catches. "I like you, Spencer Smith." Smiling ruefully, Jon rubs his hand over the back of his neck and glances up directly into Spencer's eyes. "Like like you even. And seeing how you've been acting, I think the feeling's mutual."
"Of course, I like you Jon." Spencer's still trying to get a full breath in his lungs. "We're friends."
"But I think we could be more. I think we should give it try." Softer, "I think you have a lot to give." Spencer swallows hard. They've made it to the apartment and he leans against the building. He can feel the roughness catching at his t-shirt. "Jon-"
It's Spencer that shakes this time, when Jon kisses him.
*
It's not like a lot changes.
Jon's still sarcastic, still likely to say shit under his breath when he's pissed. They still sit on the couch, jam in the storage space, study, argue. All of it.
So it's not like a lot changes, but so much has.
Now, Jon crowds in closer. He pushes Spencer's space even more, until Spencer gives. Jon throws himself into sex so whole-heartedly that it makes Spencer's head spin. It's a nice feeling, controllable chaos, and Spencer lets himself get caught up in it.
*
The bed bounces a little as Jon flops down next to Spencer. They're both slick with sweat and there's come cooling on Spencer's chest. Jon mumbles sleepily, "I love sex." Spencer huffs a laugh, using the corner of the sheet to clean himself off. "I never would have guessed."
Jon rolls into Spencer's side, nosing at his shoulder. He murmurs, "Wanna stay," and slides his hand down to tangle with Spencer's. He does his best not to stiffen. This isn't an issue that Jon's pushed before, even though Spencer knows he's getting tired of having to leave every night.
"Yeah, sure."
"That is not the rousing response I was hoping for, Smith." There's the light feeling of teeth on his shoulder, a reproach.
"I don't think it's really appropriate for someone who's had their dick in me to call me by my last name." Jon blushes and Spencer is secretly delighted that he can still get one up on Jon. "Stop avoiding the question." The feeling dissipates fairly quickly at Jon's quiet, "Please?"
"Jon-"
"I'll go get your pills while you think about it." He slides out of bed, stopping to slip on his boxers and steps out of the bedroom. The light from the bathroom falls into the hallway, and Spencer can hear Jon stop to fill up a glass of water. A moment later he's back, handing the pill bottle and water to Spencer. He watches Jon watch him shake one out. Spencer pauses, staring down at the pale blue pill in the palm of his hand. He's dependent, he knows. Scared. Looking back up, he sees the question that's always there in Jon's eyes, the one he never asks.
He's not strong enough to tell Jon about the nightmares, about knowing Jon before. He's not strong enough to talk about that, but he can give Jon this. Give himself this. He swallows the pill quickly and slides over to the other side of the bed. It's worth it to see the way Jon's eyes soften, the smile that spreads across his face.
*
"Are you ever going to tell me what happened that first day?" Jon asks quietly. Spencer can feel the question in between his shoulder blades, where Jon's breath settles even as he slides an arm over Spencer's hips, settling low across his hips. It's the fourth night in a row that Jon's stayed over.
He doesn't answer and after a while, Jon's breath evens out. Spencer closes his own eyes and falls into another dreamless sleep.
to move, ii
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
[to move: a new direction]
Spencer slams his book shut, frustrated. Restlessness makes his fingers twitch against the cover and he’d really, really like to go mess around on his kit, but he’s got mid-terms soon and he’s seriously unprepared. He’d hoped that the atmosphere of the college library would be conducive to getting some work done, but-he looks around-it’s too damn quiet.
His gaze flickers over the room again. Heads are bent, intent on whatever they’re studying. There’s a quiet shuffle of pages turning and Spencer kind of wants to yell. He hates these moods, and fortunately they don’t happen often. But dammit, he’s got to study. Freshman year had been, well, not a breeze what with the adjusting to a new city, a new life, but it had been filled with core classes. Easy classes. Physics has entirely too much math, but Spencer enjoys the challenge.
What he needs is some noise, something that will make him work at ignoring all the extraneous stuff and focus on his books. And coffee. Coffee would be good, too.
Spencer gathers up his stuff and takes off. Starbucks it is then.
*
Laughter erupts behind the counter, but Spencer’s barely paying any attention. The table he’s seated at looks like a copier vomited all over it. On his left, a notebook is spilling out half its contents and on his right is a mostly empty coffee cup. There's a tiny bit that he swirls around for the third time. He sets it back down with a sigh.
Ten minutes later, his fingers slide around the cup and it’s halfway to his mouth when he remembers that there’s still nothing in it. Frowning, he’s about to get up when a voice over his shoulder, asks, “Hey, dude, you need a refill?"
The voice is quiet, but there’s humor at its edges. Something niggles at the back of his head, but Spencer just nods with a quiet please and dismisses it. The barista fills it up and Spencer's reaching for it almost before he's done.
"Sorry, I couldn't get to you earlier, we had a rush. But watching you frown at your empty cup was entertaining, I can't lie." The guy chuckles and Spencer's hand stills at the sound. It's been nearly two years, but he knows that laugh. He's almost afraid to look, but it's like a compulsion. He can't stop himself.
He's got a little bit more weight, but his nose is the same crooked one from summers spent on the dock, running through the fields. "Jon," Spencer whispers.
Jon tilts his head, grinning. "Yeah, how'd you know? Oh, wait, duh." He reaches to the strap on his apron. "My nameta-"
It's not there and Jon glances back up, curious. "I just started yesterday. Have we met before?" Spencer chokes on the beginnings of hysterical laughter. It causes the coffee in his hand slosh over the edge of his cup and he hisses at the sudden burn, dropping the cup.
"Dude, are you okay?" He grabs Spencer's elbow and drags him into the men's bathroom. Spencer just stands there staring at Jon's down-turned head as he sticks Spencer's hand under the cold water. Jon looks up and Spencer sucks in a giant gulp of air. Concern is etched all over Jon's face, the look so familiar that Spencer's stomach ties itself into knots. A second later, he's on his knees in front of the toilet, heaving until there's nothing left.
"Shit, man. Are you-"
Spencer scrambles backwards when Jon's hand lands on his shoulder, spitting out, "Don't touch me!"
Jon holds up his hands, backing off, but not moving away. The wall tile is cool against his back and Spencer tries to think, to process.
"Listen," Jon says softly. Oh god, he's even got the lisp, Spencer notes. "Obviously something's wrong. Is there anyone I can call for you?"
My shrink, Spencer wants to say, since he's obviously finally gone crazy, but he shakes his head. He doesn't trust himself to speak. They both startle at a knock on the door. A muffled voice asks, "You okay in there, Jonny Walker?"
Keeping his eyes on Spencer's, Jon throws over his shoulder, "Good, yeah. Thanks." To Spencer, "We are, aren't we? Good, that is." He stands, holding out a hand. Spencer stares at it for a minute before raising his gaze. Jon smiles.
Swallowing hard, Spencer reaches out and slides his hand into Jon's. It's so strange. Spencer can feel the callouses, the strength there as he pulls Spencer up. He's fine until he's standing, until Jon says, "Pretty good grip you got there, you play?" And he realizes that Jon can touch him, can feel him. This is real.
Spencer pushes past Jon, knocks into a couple people as he rushes out of the building, and doesn't look back.
*
He calls Ryland, but hangs up the minute his voice comes on the phone.
*
“Hey-" Jon barely gets the words out before Spencer slams the door in his face.
“Okay, man.” The sigh is audible through the door. Jon's voice is wary, slightly frustrated, as he continues, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I freaked you out somehow and I’d really like to apologize. Maybe even find out what I did.” There’s a pause and Jon raps his knuckles on the door. “But I’m not doing it to your door, okay?”
Spencer doesn’t respond, just slumps against the door.
“Right,” Jon mutters. Louder, “And I’m keeping your bag until you open the door.”
He focuses on each breath. In. Out. After a few minutes, Jon leaves.
*
Jon comes back the next day, and the day after that. He comes back every day that week.
*
“These books are kinda heavy, Spencer Smit-oh.”
Jon looks startled. Spencer’s grip on the door frame makes his fingers ache. The door’s open, but he can’t seem to make himself speak. They stare at each other. This Jon is a little softer around the edges, Spencer thinks again. He wonders if this Jon's hair does the same soft curls when it's not straightened and hanging ridiculously in his face like it is now. Not that Spencer has any room to talk. In a fit of restlessness he'd taken a pair of scissors to his own hair two days ago. It's sticking up in soft spikes all over now.
“Hey,” Jon says. He’s studying Spencer even as Spencer can’t seem to stop staring. "I like your hair. Although," he frowns, tilting his head to the side. "You do kind of look like a lesbian now." Startled, Spencer laughs. It's true, he kind of does, he knows.
"There it is," Jon says softly, grinning. There’s something on Jon’s face, a quiet question. And curiosity, definitely. He seems to know that Spencer’s really fragile.
Spencer opens the door and steps back. After a moment’s hesitation, Jon comes in.
*
It's strange, being around Jon again.
He's the same, and yet he's not at all. This Jon-realrealreal-is a little more sarcastic, a little more passive-aggressive. He'll dog Spencer for answers, over and over, until Spencer wants to yell and then three seconds later, let it slide altogether. This Jon still likes to touch though, throw his arm around Spencer's shoulders, knock his elbow against Spencer's arm. A thousand little touches that each time, Spencer has to keep himself from flinching at. There's always a second's hesitation right after, but Jon never drops his arm. Never says a word even though he's got to have noticed. And when Jon does finally move away, drops his arm, his hand, Spencer wants to grab it back. He has to stop himself from holding on too tight, like Jon will slip away again.
It's frustrating and terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. And Spencer can't seem to make himself walk away.
*
He wants to ask sometimes, if there's a Thomas, a William, for Jon. But Spencer's not sure he could take the answer, be it yes or no, so he never does.
*
Over the next few weeks, Jon persistently seeks out Spencer. Movies and concerts and study sessions, any excuse he can seem to get Spencer out of his apartment. He discovers that Spencer drums and after a moment's hesitation, Spencer thinks fuck it and they walk a half mile down the road to a small storage building. Jon seems to know this is something important, not saying a word until Spencer rolls up the unit door. It's only 10 x 15, but it's big enough for Spencer's simple kit. There's an electrical outlet on one wall, a small heater/fan nearby.
"We should jam sometime, Spencer Smith," is all Jon says. He plays bass, Spencer knows. Like Brent.
It's nice to have a friend again.
*
They share a love of music, Spencer learns. Jon tends towards more classic stuff, the Beatles and the Beach Boys. Mellow, like Jon himself. Spencer's more a fan of music with interesting beats, diverse and difficult. Anything that makes him focus and quiets the noise in his own head. And while they're never quite his favorite, Spencer enjoys Jon's enthusiastic attempts to convince Spencer otherwise.
*
Spencer doesn't go home for Christmas, and Jon just looks at him, but doesn't ask any questions. They do some Christmas shopping and Spencer finds himself talking about his family, about his sisters, as they wander through Forever 21. He stares at Jon and thinks he has no idea what size to get. It's been over a year since he's seen them.
Something must show on his face because Jon reaches out, a hand on Spencer's elbow. "You all right, Spence?"
He shakes the hand off, reaching up to scrub his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. "Yeah, it's nothing." He'll call tonight, talk to his mom. She'll know what the girls will want. She'll be happy that he's asked.
"Wanna get something to eat?" he asks, looking over at Jon. Patting his stomach, Jon just grins, letting him change the subject. "You know it, Smith."
*
Jon only asks about the pills once, early into the spring semester.
He's digging through Spencer's backpack for a pen. "Jesus, Jon. They're in the front pocket," -and Spencer hears the tell-tale sound of rattling before Jon pops back up, bottle in hand. He's reading the label, a frown marring his brow.
"Spence? What's this?"
In his head he grabs them out of Jon's hand, yells at him for touching. Instead, Spencer just shrugs. "I have trouble sleeping."
Jon just stares at him and Spencer can see that he wants to push it, ask why. But he just nods and bends down to put them back. When he rises, he's got one of Spencer's spare pens in his hand, and they continue to study in silence.
*
Spencer looks up at the sound of a shutter-click. Jon lowers his camera a bit, grinning like as asshole and Spencer glares at him. The camera goes off again and he growls, "Jon."
"Come on, Spencer," Jon whines as he slides into the seat across from Spencer. "It's amazing outside. We should head down to Oz."
Spencer raises an eyebrow, then deliberately glances outside. There's a soft layer of snow on the ground, more coming down in intermittent flurries at the wind's whim. Looking back at Jon, Spencer says slowly, "It's fucking snowing, Jon. You are high if you think I'm going anywhere other than back to my apartment. I'm sure as hell not going to the park."
He glances down at the table, glaring at the messy scrawl. What the hell was he thinking taking a comparative literature class? Sighing, Spencer drops his head into his arms on the table. He can't write for shit.
Jon sets his camera down on the table and presses the shutter again. Spencer narrows his eyes and Jon steeples his hands innocently over the top of it a second later. "We should go see the great and powerful Oz, Spence." He taps a finger on Spencer's paper. "Then you can ask for a brain."
Barking out a startled laugh, Spencer lifts his head. He's about to call Jon an ass, when Jon aaahs quietly, a happy tilt to the corner of his mouth.
Confused, Spencer grins out a curious, "What?"
"You should smile more, Spencer Smith." Jon's eyes always crinkle in the corner when he's really happy. Spencer realizes abruptly that he's always known that. Something turns in his stomach; it's not unpleasant, but definitely a bit unsettling.
Spencer rolls his eyes. He can feel a faint heat across his cheeks. "Whatever, Walker. I smile all the time."
"No," Jon disagrees. "You really don't."
*
"Fuck, Spencer, move your ass." Jon pushes at his back. "I need coffee. Need, need, need." He shoves again and Spencer sends his elbow back into Jon's chest. "Motherfucker, knock it off. The line's moving as fast as it can."
"We'd be at the counter already if I was working," Jon mutters. His head is resting in between Spencer's shoulder blades. Spencer rolls his eyes. They've just finished a marathon study session for finals and Spencer's eyes feel gritty, his hands shaking a little from lack of sleep. Apparently Jon gets extremely whiny and needy for coffee when he's been awake for more than 18 hours.
"Wuss," Spencer grumbles under his breath.
The line moves and just as Spencer's about to step away and leave Jon hanging, someone shoves into them and the both stumble forward. Spencer's patience is frayed and he turns around to bitch, but the person is already apologizing.
"Shit, sorry abou-Spencer?"
"Hey," Spencer swallows. "Trevor."
"Wow, Spencer. Um, it's been a while." Spencer nods. He can feel Jon's curiosity as he looks back and forth between the two of them. They're both standing there staring at each other. Jon coughs and Spencer startles at the sound. The noise seems to remind Trevor that there's another person there. "Oh! Ah, sorry about that-" He waves a hand around, looking back at Spencer almost immediately.
"You look good," Trevor says quietly. "Happy."
Spencer swallows again, looking down at his feet. "Thanks."
He watches as Jon steps in closer. "So, I'm Jon."
There's a subtle edge in Jon's voice. Glancing up, Spencer can see the false smile on Jon's mouth as he offers a hand to Trevor.
"Oh! Right. I'm-I'm Trevor." He winces a little at Jon's grip.
"So, I gathered." The tone is bordering almost on rude now and Spencer frowns at Jon. There's a little reproach in the under-his-breath way he says Jon's name. When he looks back at Trevor, it's to see a widening smile. Before Spencer can say anything, apologize for Jon's behavior, Trevor's already taking his leave. "Anyway, I've gotta get out here. Study, study, study, you know?" Spencer nods.
Trevor takes a step closer and Spencer can feel Jon tense up beside him. What the hell? Trevor bites his lip. To keep from laughing, Spencer can tell. They hug awkwardly and then Trevor's gone.
After they've gotten their coffee and are walking back to his apartment, Spencer looks at Jon and says, "What the fuck was that all about?"
"What?"
"Don't be an asshole. You know what, that-" He waves a hand about. "That display with Trevor."
Jon shrugs and Spencer grinds his teeth. "Jon."
"Fine," he huffs out. "You never mentioned an ex-boyfriend wandering around the place." He sounds disgruntled, like Spencer deliberately didn't tell him. Or like he doesn't approve. Something twists in Spencer's stomach.
"Is that a problem?"
"No! Fuck. I just--well, I'd figured you pretty much asexual, Spence. You never look at girls, you never look at anyone." Except you, Spencer thinks abruptly. Shit. "And the whole thing caught me off guard."
"Oh."
They continue walking for a bit in silence and then Spencer offers in a quiet voice, "It was at the end of my freshman year. I-I wasn't really ready though."
"For dating a guy?"
"For having a relationship with someone. They, you know, expect to get as much as they give." Spencer takes a sip of his coffee to avoid looking at Jon. "I didn't really have a lot to give at the time." He doesn't talk about being scared to sleep next to someone even with the pills, or how Trevor would barely speak to him by the end. Jon hums in agreement. "It takes a lot of work, I'll give you that."
A few more steps and he starts talking about a band coming into town next weekend. They've got dual drummers, something he thinks Spencer would really be interested in seeing.
It's not until hours later that Spencer realizes Jon never really answered his question.
*
Jon's been acting a little weird the last week, quiet and withdrawn. They're sitting in the living room, nearly on opposite ends of the couch, watching a rerun of The Office when Spencer calls him on it.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jon mutters into his chest. He's slumped way down on the couch and it looks kind of uncomfortable. It's also typical Jon avoidance.
"No, really. You're acting weird. What gives?" He's about to reach over and punch Jon in the arm when he gives a heavy sigh and answers, "Trevor."
That-that is not what Spencer was expecting at all. He stills.
"It just got me thinking, you know?" Spencer raises an eyebrow in question. Jon elaborates with, "Guys."
Oh..
Spencer has no idea what to do with that. Although Jon's dated other people during the time Spencer's known him, they've always been girls. They've also never lasted past a few dates. Spencer's startled out of his thoughts by Jon's next words.
"I think you should kiss me."
"Oh, fuck no." Spencer shoves off the couch immediately, heading for the kitchen. This is not a conversation he wants to have now. Or ever.
"Why not?"
Spencer stops on the opposite side of the kitchen, leaning back against the counter. He gives Jon an incredulous look. "What the hell, do you hear yourself?"
There's a familiar stubborn look on Jon's face and Spencer swallows. Jon doesn't answer, just moves into Spencer's space. He puts an arm out to stop Jon. There's a pressure, Jon leaning forward into the touch even as he stops moving closer and Spencer can feel the heat under his hand.
In his mind, Spencer flashes to a memory-the light reflecting off the lake, watching the way Jon's skin looks warm from the sun. Pulling away from the cabinet puts him chest to chest with Jon. After a moment's hesitation, he dips his head and tries not to think about how this might be what he's wanted all along.
The beard feels strange, prickly yet soft, as he slides his fingers through it. As his fingers settle, cupping Jon's cheek, there's a small sigh and a parting of lips. Spencer reaches out then, to catch a taste. Jon's fingers tighten where they're resting on Spencer's waist. He can feel the way Jon trembles just a little and that, more than anything, makes him pull back. Jon follows with a little whine of disappointment. Spencer stares down at his lips, shiny and slick. Then he makes himself step away.
From somewhere he pulls out a nonchalant tone. "So. Kiss accomplished. Can we go back to watching TV now?" Sliding past Jon, he heads back into the living room.
Jon looks like he wants to argue, but just nods in agreement. So they end up back on the couch, sitting on opposite ends again. Spencer doesn't remember a single thing they watch that night.
*
Under his shirt Spencer can feel the sweat roll down his back. Even though the temperature has risen, the wind still holds a chill as it moves across his skin. As he steps out of the storage unit, he looks up and his breath catches. Jon's standing there, waiting, arms crossed over his chest.
"You are avoiding me, Spencer Smith."
Spencer huffs out, "And you are ridiculous Jon Walker," before starting down the street to his apartment. Unsurprisingly, Jon quickly steps into stride with him. Spencer lengthens his stride, forcing Jon to walk faster. It's kind a dick move, but he doesn't really want to talk to Jon right now. Talking to Jon means talking about the kiss and God, he doesn't even want to think about that.
It's all he's been thinking about for the last three days.
"You're freaking out." Jon tugs on his elbow. "And slow down, asshole."
Jerking away, Spencer hisses out, "Jesus, Jon, what?"
"You are freaking out," he repeats. "Which is hilarious given that I'm the one who's never kissed a guy before Tuesday."
That startles Spencer into stopping and he nearly ends up with an armful as he spins around. "What?"
"So. Here's the thing." He steps in closer, ignoring the question, and Spencer's breath catches. "I like you, Spencer Smith." Smiling ruefully, Jon rubs his hand over the back of his neck and glances up directly into Spencer's eyes. "Like like you even. And seeing how you've been acting, I think the feeling's mutual."
"Of course, I like you Jon." Spencer's still trying to get a full breath in his lungs. "We're friends."
"But I think we could be more. I think we should give it try." Softer, "I think you have a lot to give." Spencer swallows hard. They've made it to the apartment and he leans against the building. He can feel the roughness catching at his t-shirt. "Jon-"
It's Spencer that shakes this time, when Jon kisses him.
*
It's not like a lot changes.
Jon's still sarcastic, still likely to say shit under his breath when he's pissed. They still sit on the couch, jam in the storage space, study, argue. All of it.
So it's not like a lot changes, but so much has.
Now, Jon crowds in closer. He pushes Spencer's space even more, until Spencer gives. Jon throws himself into sex so whole-heartedly that it makes Spencer's head spin. It's a nice feeling, controllable chaos, and Spencer lets himself get caught up in it.
*
The bed bounces a little as Jon flops down next to Spencer. They're both slick with sweat and there's come cooling on Spencer's chest. Jon mumbles sleepily, "I love sex." Spencer huffs a laugh, using the corner of the sheet to clean himself off. "I never would have guessed."
Jon rolls into Spencer's side, nosing at his shoulder. He murmurs, "Wanna stay," and slides his hand down to tangle with Spencer's. He does his best not to stiffen. This isn't an issue that Jon's pushed before, even though Spencer knows he's getting tired of having to leave every night.
"Yeah, sure."
"That is not the rousing response I was hoping for, Smith." There's the light feeling of teeth on his shoulder, a reproach.
"I don't think it's really appropriate for someone who's had their dick in me to call me by my last name." Jon blushes and Spencer is secretly delighted that he can still get one up on Jon. "Stop avoiding the question." The feeling dissipates fairly quickly at Jon's quiet, "Please?"
"Jon-"
"I'll go get your pills while you think about it." He slides out of bed, stopping to slip on his boxers and steps out of the bedroom. The light from the bathroom falls into the hallway, and Spencer can hear Jon stop to fill up a glass of water. A moment later he's back, handing the pill bottle and water to Spencer. He watches Jon watch him shake one out. Spencer pauses, staring down at the pale blue pill in the palm of his hand. He's dependent, he knows. Scared. Looking back up, he sees the question that's always there in Jon's eyes, the one he never asks.
He's not strong enough to tell Jon about the nightmares, about knowing Jon before. He's not strong enough to talk about that, but he can give Jon this. Give himself this. He swallows the pill quickly and slides over to the other side of the bed. It's worth it to see the way Jon's eyes soften, the smile that spreads across his face.
*
"Are you ever going to tell me what happened that first day?" Jon asks quietly. Spencer can feel the question in between his shoulder blades, where Jon's breath settles even as he slides an arm over Spencer's hips, settling low across his hips. It's the fourth night in a row that Jon's stayed over.
He doesn't answer and after a while, Jon's breath evens out. Spencer closes his own eyes and falls into another dreamless sleep.
to move, ii