a thin line between - part one
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At fourteen, Brendon gets his first wet dream and the ability to smell from thirty feet away whether or not Tyler Greensman took a shower that week. The dreams are normal, if not a bit embarrassing. The smell thing, however, takes nearly six months for him to master. Brendon just thanks god that the two are completely unrelated.
At sixteen, Brendon has mostly stopped believing in God, stopped believing in most everything his parents have put their faith in and what he's grown up surrounded by. He doesn't blame his loss of faith on that rare, recessive genetic trait that makes him completely different, but he's fairly sure that his parents do.
At eighteen, Brendon's been living in a crap apartment for nearly nine months. But a month later he's got a recording contract and a way out of Las Vegas. He doesn't speak to his family for another thirteen months, but being on the road with Ryan, Spencer, and Brent is enough most of the time.
Then he meets Shane.
~*~
The nightmares start about two days after Brendon leaves on vacation with Sarah. They're vague, blurry flashes of horrible things and Spencer has no idea why he can't get rid of them. Three days later, he tries a over-the-counter sleep aid and wakes up, voice raw. From screaming, he realizes, a few minutes later, after his heartbeat has settled around normal and he can breathe without taking in huge gulps of air.
"Fuck," he mutters, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his arms. The darkness answers with silence. A few minutes later, Bogart crawls out from under the bed and jumps up next to Spencer. He noses under Spencer's elbow and nudges a cold nose against his chin. Spencer curls a hand around the dog's head, scratching behind soft ears.
He doesn't go back to sleep.
*
Brendon calls during hour 33 of Spencer's foray into self-induced insomnia and even though Spencer assures him that everything is fine, there’s a slight slur to his words. Brendon reluctantly says goodbye and Spencer nearly misses the table when he goes to put the phone down.
Bogart shuffles out of his way when he turns toward the couch, but doesn't move far. It's kind of cool how the dog hasn't really left his side since that night, like he's doing his best to protect Spencer from his demons. Flopping down on the couch, Bogart's quick to jump up beside him and settle his head on Spencer's lap and Spencer returns the favor by running fingers over his fur.
With a sigh, Spencer leans back. It's a bad idea, but he's so tired. Two minutes later, he's asleep.
*
He's distantly aware of the shouting, the horrendous howl of whatever's chasing him through his mind. There's the pressure of something gripping his shoulder and Spencer lashes out. A second later the pressure's gone.
"Ow, fuck! Shit, Spence, wake the fuck up!"
Spencer's eyes snap open to see Shane ass-end over the coffee table, Bogart prancing around him with the occasional yap-howl thing that Spencer recognizes from his dream.
"What the hell was that, Smith? I get a frantic call from Brendon to come make sure you're okay and I walk in with Bogie howling his fucking head off and you thrashing around on the couch."
Bogart's doing his best to climb up Shane now that he's settled down enough to figure out that's who it is. Shane wraps an arm around him, putting him back on the floor.
"What the fuck?" he asks.
Spencer glances over and sees that he's only been asleep for about thirty minutes. It's just enough to make him even more tired, the adrenaline rush of Shane's appearance fading quickly.
"Bogie, knock it off."
The dog quiets immediately and Spencer pushes off the couch, reaching out to help Shane up. He stares at Spencer for a moment before sighing and accepting the help. Now that they're standing face to face, Spencer can see where he'd made contact. The corner of Shane's eye is red, the skin beginning to puff up.
"Shit," he mutters, guilt rolling through him. "Let's go get some ice for that."
He turns away, heading toward the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he throws a, "Sorry, man. You came in on the wrong part of a bad dream."
Hopefully his tone is nonchalant enough. He doesn't really want to talk about it, doesn't want it to be a big deal.
"No shit. Ow."
When he turns around, Shane is pushing on the swelling skin. He winces and Spencer slaps his hand away. "Quit poking at it, dumbass."
Shane gives him a rueful smile and Spencer can't help his fond eye roll as he steps away to find a towel. There's one left in the drawer and he makes a mental note to do laundry as he piles up some ice. Twisting the ends up, he hands it over. Shane winces again when it presses against his face, but gamely keeps it there.
There’s a smart remark on Spencer’s tongue, but before he can say anything, his stomach grumbles loudly enough to be embarrassing. It makes him realize that he hasn't eaten since early this morning. Shane grins at him and then makes another pained face when it pulls the skin at the corner of his eye.
Pushing him towards the table, Spencer starts grabbing sandwich fixings from the fridge. "Sandwich?"
There's an affirmative noise from the other side of the refrigerator door and when Spencer stands up, hands full, Shane is staring intently at him. Spencer focuses on setting the items in his hands down on the counter, then turns away to grab the bread from the pantry.
"Spence-"
He can hear the concern in Shane's voice, the curiosity. He doesn't want to talk about it.
"Turkey or ham? I've even got some of the vegan bologna that Brendon's keeps trying to tell me is actually good-"
He's halfway back in the fridge when Shane says his name again, quiet but intense. Shutting the door with a frustrated sigh, Spencer turns to look at Shane. He grinds his teeth together as Shane stares back at him. There's a sharpness in Shane's gaze that rarely makes a presence. It always unnerves Spencer a little, since Shane can be an intense guy, but usually only behind the camera.
Focused on Spencer, it feels like Shane's trying to get right inside his head. Spencer doesn't even want what's currently there and he definitely doesn't want his friends exposed to it. Even though he wants to, Spencer doesn't look away.
Whatever Shane sees on his face makes him frown, but his shoulders drop a little and a second later the corner of his mouth tilts up as he asks, "I thought Brendon gave up the whole 'vegan' thing a year ago?"
It's a concession, Spencer knows, but it's one he'll take.
With a snort, he replies. "It's mostly for Sarah. She's been trying it out for the last month or so." He grins at Shane. "With a much better commitment track record than Bren."
It's kind of sweet really, how Brendon shows his support of Sarah. When Spencer points out that Brendon spends more time at her place than she spends at theirs, Brendon just looks at him with stupid puppy eyes and says in a ridiculously earnest voice, "Don't you want to be a supportive friend, Spencer Smith? Hasn't Sarah been good to you?" So Spencer usually ends up putting the stuff in their shopping cart, trying hard not to break something rolling his eyes.
Shane laughs and Spencer finishes up the sandwiches. Sliding the plates down on the table, he moves to sit down, remembers chips and crosses back over to the pantry. When he finally does sit, he looks up to see a definite spark of laughter in Shane's eyes. He frowns.
"What?"
Shane shakes his head, reaching for the bag of chips and opening them. "I always kind of forget how much of a happy homemaker you are."
"Well," Spencer scowls and reaches a hand towards Shane's plate. "I can always-"
"No!" Shane grabs at his plate, nearly losing the bag of chips in the process. It wouldn't be the first time Spencer's retaliated when someone brings up his home-making tendencies.
"All right then, shut the fuck up and eat your sandwich."
Shane huffs and takes a huge bite. Spencer drops his gaze to his own plate, determinedly not noticing another wince. He digs into his own sandwich, eating slower than normal. The amount of caffeine he's been shot-gunning makes his stomach a little unreliable. He looks up to see Shane staring at him again.
"So what are you working on now?" he asks before Shane can ask any more questions.
The distraction works; Shane starts talking, hands waving around. His sandwich is dangerously close to losing its contents all over the table, but Spencer will take the mess.
>><<
Shane admits to great curiosity. The phone call from Brendon hadn’t really been frantic like he’d told Spencer, but there had definitely been something in Brendon's voice that worried him. Walking into the disaster that had been happening at the house, with Bogart making such a racket and Spencer in the throes of a nightmare, gave his worry a little validation.
It's late when Shane knocks on the door, late enough to be considered rude, but he can see lights on through the blinds. He knocks again, tensing when something clatters in the hallway. When the door swings open, he's expecting Spencer to look rough and he does, with the skin under his eyes so dark as to look bruised.
Shane can see Spencer’s about to protest-he's shown up at Spencer's for the last three days-but Shane holds up the bag in his hand and says with a winning smile, "Thai, Spencer. You can't turn down Thai, it's against the rules," and slips inside the house. He ignores the put-upon sigh from Spencer and heads straight into the living room. It’s empty.
"Where's Bogart?" Shane starts unpacking the bag, looking up as Spencer comes up behind the couch.
"Shane-"
He wiggles a carton at Spencer. "Spring rolls and Panang, mmmm."
Spencer shakes his head, but Shane can see the corner of his mouth curl up in amusement as he turns away. Sliding the back door open, Spencer starts to whistle but a second later Bogart's prancing around his feet. He does a couple circles, whining, before running over to greet Shane.
*
They make a dent in the ridiculous amount of food on the coffee table, but Shane notes that Spencer ends up pushing most of his around, not eating much. Afterwards, they play Xbox for a while, but Spencer's movements are sloppy and Shane suggests watching a movie when he sees Spencer’s growing frustration.
There's relief on Spencer's face, panic underlying it. Shane chooses an action movie, one with a lot of explosions and a lot of noise. He plays it louder than necessary, wincing occasionally, but Spencer doesn't seem to mind.
No matter how loud the movie is, Spencer's lack of sleep is obviously catching up with him. He gets up several times, waving off Shane's offer to pause the movie. He comes back with a couple of Red Bulls and ends up downing both of them during the course of the movie. Despite that, Spencer's barely keeping upright by the end of the movie. The end credits are starting to roll when Shane looks over and sees that Spencer has finally succumbed to sleep. He's slumped against the arm of the chair, head tilted at a slightly painful angle.
Shane turns the movie off, moving the channel to some TV shopping network and gets up carefully. Gathering up the trash, he moves around as quietly as possible. When he comes back from the kitchen he finds Bogart with his chin setting on the couch next to Spencer's legs, soft little sighs escaping every so often.
Spencer’s arm twitches. As Shane watches, Spencer’s face twists a little, a discomfiting noise slipping out. Shane frowns as it worsens almost immediately and the look on Spencer's face turns pained. Taking a seat on the arm of the couch, Shane reaches out and places a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. He keeps the touch light just in case, wary of being punched again.
It seems to settle Spencer, but a second later, he shivers violently. A horrible sound falls from Spencer's mouth and Shane tightens his grip without thinking. There’s another full body shake and Shane watches as Spencer turns his face, trying to bury it into the back couch cushion. It’s like he's trying not to look at whatever is in front of him inside his dream. His hair falls into his face and without thinking, Shane reaches up to push it behind his ear. Spencer turns into it, his cheek sliding into the curve of Shane's hand.
It's an intimate gesture and even being alone, the only one awake, it still makes him blush a little. Something twists in his stomach and he's about to move his hand when Spencer breathes a little sigh, his body relaxing. Shane smoothes his thumb over the curve of Spencer's cheek. The skin under Spencer's eyes is thin; the veins so close to the surface. His eyelashes flutter then still, creating shadows against shadowed skin. Shane thinks about how soft they look and then stands abruptly.
His arm's tired anyway.
Stretching, he moves away from the couch and heads down the hallway to the bathroom.
There’s a bottle in the bathroom trashcan. Shane finishes washing his hands and reaches down to pick it up. It's a generic over-the-counter sleep aid and the bottle's almost completely full. Tossing them back into the trash, Shane wanders further down the hall.
Spencer's bed is made, neat except for a few rumples in the bedspread, like maybe he'd tried to lay down but it hadn't lasted long enough to move around.
He moves back into the kitchen, dropping a glance over at the couch; Spencer hasn't really moved. There's a six-pack of large Red Bulls in the refrigerator and a brand-new canister of coffee on the counter.
A noise from the living room interrupts his search and he heads back toward the other room. Spencer's restless again, hands clenching into the material of the couch. He frowns in his sleep, his forehead wrinkling. When he flinches, throwing an arm out like he's trying to push something away, Shane decides that is enough. He sits down on the other side and as gently as he can, pulls Spencer back against his chest. It's going to be a long night and he'd like to be as comfortable as possible. At first, Spencer struggles against Shane.
"Hey, Spence-Hey, it's okay."
He tries to make his voice as soothing as possible, like when Dylan has something in her paw and is reluctant to let him get it out. Spencer reacts in a similar fashion, tensing up to move again but relaxing into Shane's grip a moment later.
It's not the most comfortable position, Spencer is not exactly a lightweight, but a wiggle there and pulling his arm out from between him and the couch and curling it over Spencer's chest makes it a little easier to settle in. He doesn't expect to fall asleep, but Spencer's a warm weight against his chest and it's nearly 3 am.
He doesn't dream and apparently neither does Spencer.
*
Shane jerks awake and immediately groans as his back protests loudly. A pain shoots up his neck when he raises it. He's mostly lying all the way down on the couch, so they must have shifted sometime during the night. However, there's no sign of Spencer as he looks around. A second later, there’s a noise from the kitchen. He gets up, wincing as things twinge that shouldn't. "I'm getting old, shit," he mutters as his back snaps and crackles like he's 80 instead of 27.
When he enters the kitchen, Spencer gives him a glance then quickly turns his attention back to the mushrooms on the cutting board. A little thrill of amused glee shoots through Shane when he notes that the tips of Spencer's ears are red.
"How's my widdle cuddle bear this-" He looks at his watch. 1:14. Shit. "This afternoon?"
Spencer rolls his eyes. "Shut it, ass-face." He points his knife at Shane and adds, "Also, never a good idea to taunt the guy with the knife."
Laughing, Shane leans up against the other side of the island. In a quieter voice, he asks, "Sleep okay?"
"Oh. Yeah, good." Spencer's chin stays tucked in closer to his chest, but he does glance up when he mumbles, "Thanks." He doesn't really give Shane any time to respond, adding, "Hungry?"
Shane's stomach chooses that moment to announce very loudly that yes, he is indeed hungry. "I’ve got a meeting at three, so I need to get my ass home and cleaned up."
Spencer follows him down the hallway, standing in the doorway as Shane heads down the front steps. At the bottom, Shane turns. "So," he catches Spencer's gaze. "I'll come by a little earlier tonight, yeah?"
There’s a protest on Spencer’s tongue, but he bites his lip instead and looks away, an obvious argument going on inside his head. Shane watches, sees it when Spencer comes to a decision. He won't admit the flutter of relief in his stomach when Spencer looks back at him and with a small, self-conscious smile, answers, "That'd be good, yeah."
Shane tosses over his shoulder, "And you're getting dinner tonight, Smith! My wallet's getting thin supporting your ass."
As he slides into the car, Spencer hollers, "You turned it down once, Valdes. No guarantees."
Slamming the door, he leans over to wave like an idiot and Spencer rolls his eyes and heads back into the house. Shane grins to himself as he drives off.
Regan gives him a look as he rushes through the apartment, shedding clothes and headed for the shower, but doesn't say anything. Shane's kind of grateful; he’s not sure how he’d respond.
*
After a few days the circles under Spencer's eyes are gone and he refuses to let Shane stay over again. Shane protests, but Spencer is adamant.
Shane's phone rings at 10:47 pm. two days later, right as he's about to sit down and edit some footage that’s been on his to-do list for a month.
"So, hey." Spencer sounds tired. Shane's not surprised but something jumps in his stomach when Spencer continues. "I've got sushi from that place on McKinnon." Shane loves that place. "Wanna share?"
He leaves a note for Regan.
When he wakes the next morning with Spencer twisted like a pretzel around him, he mutters, "This is bullshit, we're using the bed next time, dammit."
Spencer snorts from where his face is tucked into Shane's armpit. "Deal."
*
It takes less than a week to settle into a routine. During the day, both of them go about their regular routine: Spencer does whatever the hell he normally does when they're off tour (mostly spending a lot of time with Pete, Ashlee, and most importantly, Bronx). Shane makes phone calls, edits video, and plots his next project and how to get other people to pay for it. He also buys two pretty sweet monitors that are taking way too long to get to him.
He tries to spend as much time with Regan as he can get, in the early evenings when she gets off work, on the weekends when he's not shooting. He tries to explain, but it sounds ridiculous even to his own ears. There's a new level of impatience growing as the days pass and he's coming home as she's heading out. He feels bad, but Spencer looks better than he has since Brendon left. Shane’s hoping that once Brendon gets home, they’ll be able to sort everything out and all the tension will be a thing of the past.
*
They're at the kitchen table for once, digging into some leftovers and laughing when Spencer's eyes widen. "Holy shit! Brendon." He's half out of his chair even as Shane twists around to see. "Did I forget that I was supposed to pick you up? Fuck."
Brendon looks a little startled to see Shane. It's after midnight, so Shane can understand. Before Brendon can say anything, Spencer's wrapping him up in a bear hug. A wide, happy smile spreads over Brendon’s face as he hugs back.
"No, we took an earlier flight." He pulls back a little, but keeps Spencer's arm around his shoulders. "We both wanted to get home, you know?"
He glances at Spencer. "I figured you'd be in bed though and I could surprise the shit out of you in the morning." Nodding toward Shane, he continues. "But I guess that's not gonna happen."
Spencer drags him over to the table, demanding details about their trip. It’s ridiculously late when Brendon cracks a yawn so big, it looks painful. They decide to call it a night.
There's an awkward moment when they get up and Shane says, "Well, we'll see you tomorrow then."
Brendon gives him a funny look. "We?"
Spencer jumps in. "We were, uh, supposed to go surfing in the morning." He looks over at Shane. "Right?"
"Yeah." He nods his head, playing along. That funny feeling is back in his stomach. "Yeah, we were, but I don't think that's gonna happen." When he looks down at his watch it reads 4:09. "I'm not getting up before noon, dudes."
Brendon laughs and Spencer sends Shane a thankful look. Shane gives him a small smile before turning back to Brendon. "Good to have you back, bro."
There’s another hug from Brendon, his nose tucked just under the hollow of Shane’s ear. His hugs are a familiar thing and Shane relaxes into it, wrapping his own arms tightly around Brendon. There’s a whispered thank you against his neck and a second later, Brendon's bouncing backwards. Another yawn escapes and Shane laughs.
"All right, all right, I get the message."
When he slides into bed-the sheets aren't as soft or as cool-Regan rolls toward him, humming a questioning sound. Shane replies in a soft voice, "Brendon's home." There's a moment of silence and Shane thinks she mumbles a that's good then before she drifts back to sleep.
Shane nods his head in the dark, he supposes that's true.
>><<
Spencer’s appetite is normal again, no shakes from the amounts of caffeine he'd ingested to stay awake or the nausea that had been a constant friend during exhaustion. He's digging into his burger when Brendon drops a bomb on him.
"I think I'm going to move in with Sarah."
It takes a second for Spencer to chew and swallow. Something like panic dances at the back of his mind. "What?"
"We talked about it. On vacation," he clarifies. Brendon shrugs, pushing the fries around on his plate. "I think-" He finally looks up at Spencer. "I think I'm ready, you know?"
No, Spencer doesn't know. He and Haley had called it quits before they'd gotten to that stage. Also, he didn't need Haley to sleep through the night without being chased by all the demons of hell. That little panic is now tap-dancing on his shoulders.
"Spence?"
He snaps his gaze up to Brendon's face. Trepidation at Spencer’s response is there, along with a little confusion, and Spencer feels like an ass. With a wide grin, he grabs a napkin and dabs it under each eye, faking some sniffles. "Aw, my baby's all grown up." There’s a flutter of eyelashes for effect.
Brendon throws a roll at him, concern wiped away by a wide smile. Spencer catches it and rips it in half. "Speaking of babies-"
He offers one half, pausing as something shifts on Brendon's face. It's a little sad, tinged with something else Spencer can't quite decipher. He shrugs it off, launching into the million and one things that Bronx did that Brendon missed.
In the ensuing madness of getting Brendon's shit ready to move, Spencer forgets to ask about it.
*
Spencer feels a little restless and it's not until Brendon looks up, surrounded by four boxes, a stack of newspapers and a few scattered Red Bull cans, and says, "Where the fuck is Shane? He should be helping," that he realizes why. It's a little unsettling to say the least, and he watches as Brendon digs his phone out.
"Yo, Valdes," Brendon says into the phone, waggling his eyebrows at Spencer.
Spencer rolls his eyes in response, turning away and packing more books into a box. He half-listens to the conversation, thoughts tumbling around in his head. He's slept okay the last few days. A little restless, yeah, but no sign of nightmares. Nothing like before, but something still feels a little off. He tunes back in time to hear Brendon demand, "And we wouldn't be adverse to some grub-What?" He snorts at whatever retort Shane gives him. "Yeah, yeah. See you in a few."
"More free labor," Brendon tells him, tucking the phone back in his pocket. "And it should come with food."
Spencer nods. For some stupid reason, he feels a little apprehensive at seeing Shane. It's stupid, really. He notices Brendon shoving a photograph haphazardly into one his boxes. "What are you doing? I gave you the newspaper for a reason, Urie."
They spend the next half hour arguing about proper packing techniques and Spencer's startled by the door bell. When he opens the door, he can't help but laugh as Shane stands there, two bags of food raised up and says, "I'm having a distinct feeling of deja vu."
Brendon must have finally untangled himself from the mess in the living room because he makes Spencer jump when his chin suddenly rests on Spencer's shoulder. He asks, "Deja vu?"
Even behind the sunglasses, he can see Shane look at him. Shrugging, he twists around, pushing Brendon back down the hallway. "Food time, come on."
Brendon squints at him, not deterred at all. He's about to say something when Spencer smirks. "Shane can decide who's right on the correct way to pack things for moving."
Scoffing, Brendon finally spins around, detangling himself from Spencer's grip. "Shane knows nothing about packing. He's always got a 'job' when he needs shit moved, and everyone else ends up doing it for him."
"Hey!"
Spencer looks over his shoulder at the exclamation. Shane shuts the door with his foot, looking up in time to catch Spencer's gaze. There's a rueful look on his face and he shrugs. "I, um, can't really negate that statement."
Shaking his head as they move into the kitchen, Spencer says sadly, "You are no good to me at all, sheesh."
The bags of food land on the table. "Now that is not true at all."
Brendon hums in agreement and starts digging around one of the bags. Throwing his hands up, Spencer grumbles, "Fine, fine, but don't come crying to me when all your shit's broken."
"Okay." Brendon takes a huge bite out of the burrito in his hand, completely unconcerned.
Spencer looks over to Shane for solidarity and finds him watching Spencer. It's a little unsettling, twisting something around in his stomach. He can feel his ears heating up, too. Grabbing a burrito, he takes a page from Brendon and digs into his food.
If his mouth is full, maybe he won't stick his foot in it.
*
It’s not the last time he catches Shane watching him. Several times over the course of the afternoon, Spencer looks up to find Shane studying him. It's not only that; Spencer keeps leaning into Shane when he's close by, a total disregard of space made comfortable by the last few weeks. It's only when he sees Brendon looking at them funny that Spencer makes a conscious effort to keep himself in check.
They're closing up a box, Shane holding the flaps together as Spencer tapes it shut, when he asks quietly, "How are you doing?"
"Fine." Checking over his shoulder, Brendon's still in his room. "I. I'm good."
"You've been sleeping okay, then. No nightmares?"
Spencer shakes his head. "Nope." It's the truth. He may not be sleeping great-it’s always a bit restless and he’s pretty sure it’s because he got used to having someone there asleep with him-but there hasn't been a single nightmare in the last week. He twists his wrist, tearing the tape and smoothing it down the side of the box. "Not a one."
"Oh." Shane straightens up. "That's. That's good."
It's kind of ridiculous, Spencer thinks. They slept together for the last two weeks and all of a sudden when they're not, it's as if conversation is the most awkward thing ever. It still doesn't mean that he wouldn’t like to curl up with Shane and take a nap right now.
Oh.
That sudden realization is definitely not helping any of the anxiety-inducing thoughts rolling around in his head right now. The panic in Spencer’s head doesn’t seem to show on his face because Shane keeps going.
"What about, um, when Brendon's out of the house? You know what you're going to do then?"
Spencer doesn't know how to answer that. Admitting out loud that Brendon is actually part of the problem is something that Spencer’s not comfortable with doing yet. Not on top of the fact that he apparently didn't just miss sleeping with someone, he missed sleeping with Shane.
"Spencer?"
Shane's obviously expecting an answer, but Spencer can only shake his head. With a frustrated sigh, Shane leans in. "Spence, come on. You know what's going to happen-"
"No, I don't. We can't say that for sure." He turns, blindly reaching into a nearby box. He really, really doesn't want to have this conversation right now.
"What the hell?" Shane moves around the box at their feet until his shoulder brushes Spencer's. "You're not one to usually ignore the obvious, man. And I'm pretty sure you've figured out that it's got something to do with-"
Spencer cuts him off as Shane's voice starts to rise. "Dammit, Shane. Don't-"
"Have you talked to him about it?"
Spencer looks at him like he's crazy. "God, no."
"Why not? He should know."
"What? That I can't sleep without him here? That if he goes off and lives with his girlfriend that I'll be haunted, tormented by horrible nightmares. I can't do that."
Throwing his hands up, Shane says, "I don't know, maybe he can sleep over here once or twice a week?"
"Then what? You'll take the other days? I'm pretty sure Regan's already got something to say about that." A look passes over Shane’s face, but he steps in closer and Spencer's breath catches in his throat. He can feel the line of warmth along his side and Jesus, this is ridiculous. Shane opens his mouth to say something.
"Guys?"
They both jump back from each other, startled. Brendon's staring at the two of them, a frown on his face. "Everything okay in here?"
It's almost like a comedy, Spencer notes, the way he and Shane turn away at the same time and start messing with the shit in separate boxes. He can feel Brendon's stinkeye as he passes by them and into the kitchen. He's completely unsurprised when Brendon calls out a few minutes later, "Shane? Can I talk to you for a sec?"
Shane glances over at Spencer, a wary look on his face, before he heads into the kitchen. There's a murmur of voices, quiet enough that Spencer can't really make out any of the conversation.
It's no big deal, Spencer thinks, it's only sleeping. Despite whatever his brain is trying to make up. Still, Spencer waits barely two minutes before he shuffles over so he can hear more clearly.
"-girlfriend, Bren. Come on."
Man, Spencer knew it was going to be something like that, but he can feel his face heating up. Taking a chance, he glances around the door frame. The two of them are mostly turned away and Brendon's doing that shoulder thing, one hand tucked into his jeans. "Right, right, I know. It's just, um, you guys seem-"
Shane sighs. "We spent a lot of time together while you were gone, yeah. He just-" Shane stops, chin down and Spencer stares at his profile. He knows he's trying to explain without really telling Brendon any real details.
"Just what? What was going on anyway?" Brendon's voice is a little impatient now and Shane shrugs this time, lifting his head to look directly at Brendon.
"I think Spencer should be the one to tell you."
There's confusion in Brendon's voice, definitely frustration, as he huffs out, "What, why?" It's not hard to imagine the look on his face.
"I just-Ask him about it, okay?" Shane puts an arm around Brendon's shoulder, pulling him into his side. "I don't think it's my place. That's all."
"Fine, geez." Brendon's shoulders slump. "I just wanted to, you know, see what was going on between you two."
"Nothing, B, just trying to be a good friend."
"That you are, dude. That you are." The smile is evident in Brendon's voice and Spencer can't help the tilt at the corner of his mouth.
Shane grins. "But you know, Spencer does have those hips-"
"Freak." Brendon hip-checks him and Shane stumbles away, laughing.
"Just sayin'."
Before Brendon can retort his phone rings. Even from the back, Spencer can see Brendon brighten. It's Sarah's ringtone. Shane rolls his eyes as Brendon shoos him away. Brendon moves out on to the deck and Shane glances over to where Spencer’s standing in the doorway, his smile fading. As he passes by Spencer, he mutters, "You need to tell him."
Spencer sighs heavily, leaning back against the wall. Shane goes back to packing and Spencer watches and wonders what the hell is going on with his life.
*
The first night is good.
The second is a little rougher. He wakes up three times, heart pounding. The first two times he reaches for Bogart before he realizes that the dog's not there. Around 5:30 am, he gets up and makes a pot of coffee. He drinks it at the kitchen table, watching a sunbeam travel along the tile in the kitchen. He contemplates calling Shane for all of three seconds and then pushes the thought out of his head.
Later that afternoon, he kidnaps Brendon's dog, declaring visitation rights. Brendon starts to protest, but Sarah's dragging him out the door and Spencer is triumphant. "Besides," he shouts after Brendon, waving the dog's paw goodbye. "Your dog likes me better anyway!"
Brendon flips him off as they drive away.
Looking down at the dog in his arms, he tells him, "Just you and me, huh?" Bogie licks his chin.
Spencer will take that as a yes.
*
It's like nothing changed, Bogart follows him everywhere. He settles on Spencer's lap when Spencer lets him. When he doesn't, the dog sits as close as possible. It should be annoying, but Spencer finds it comforting.
A little after midnight, Spencer can barely keep his eyes open. After the third time he jerks awake, Bogart jumping out of the way just in time to avoid being squished, he decides he might as well be comfortable and heads to bed.
He's out almost instantly, the last thing he recalls is the warm line of Bogart against his hip.
>><<
The sound of the phone is startling in the quiet dark of the bedroom. Despite the fact that Shane wakes almost at once, he fumbles the cell and it lands on the floor. He leans over the side of the bed, hand scrambling after it. Regan noises a question, and Shane can feel her turn over towards him. He finally finds the phone.
"'lo?" He clears his throat. "Hello?"
There's a labored pull of air on the other end, then a dog bark in the background. "Spencer?"
There’s a murmur of consent.
"Spence, are you ok-" A retching sound interrupts his question and a second later Shane jerks the phone away from his ear when it clatters loudly to the floor on the other end. Bogart starts whining, accented by little yip-yowls. Shane tosses the covers off and gets up. "Shit."
"What is it?" Regan's voice is still sleep-slurred as Shane stumbles out of bed, searching for his pants. The room is dark and he trips over the shoes he'd toed off earlier. The phone is pressed tightly against his ear. He can hear Spencer breathing at least, although Bogart's still whining.
"Shane?"
He turns in the dark, jeans gripped triumphantly in his hand. There's enough moonlight filtering in through the closed blinds that he can see she's sitting up, waiting.
"What?" he says, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he tries to slide into his jeans.
"What's going on?" There's a note of rising panic in her voice. Distracted, Shane finally manages not to fall over and buttons his jeans. He chases down the shoe he'd tripped over and it's only when Regan says sharply, "Shane!" that his attention shifts. Shane flinches as Bogart reacts to her voice, barking sharply.
Sitting on the bed, he slips his shoes on, not bothering with socks. "It's Spencer, he's sick."
"Again?" A note of disbelief this time. Shane spent the better part of the last two weeks with Spencer; he can understand that Regan would be a little miffed. Still.
"I told you, Regs, Spencer's been sick, not sleeping well." He finishes putting his shoes on, standing again. "It's probably a relapse, okay? I'm just going to-"
"Brendon's home now, why can't you let him handle it?"
He answers, distracted by the search for his wallet. "Dammit, where's-Brendon doesn’t know how to help."
He finds it in the cushion of the chair where he'd thrown his pants earlier just as Regan retorts, "Oh? So you're the only one who knows how to cure him? That sounds kind of ridiculous-"
In his ear there's the sound of retching again. "Seriously, Regan, I don't have time to argue about this right now. I need to go-"
"Help Spencer, I get it."
He's sliding on his hoodie, switching the phone from one ear to the other when Regan asks, voice soft, "Is there something going on between the two of you?" The question startles him so much that he nearly drops the phone. What the hell? Heat flares up on his face and he's suddenly glad he never turned a light on.
"What!?"
"You just." He can hear her shrug in the dark. "You're over there all the time now..."
"I told you. Spencer's been sick-"
"Then get him some fucking medicine, Shane! Let the doctors take care of it!"
He hates how hurt she sounds and he moves back toward the bed, only something’s happening on the other end of the line. He needs to go. "Look, I can't-Let me take care of this and when I get back we'll talk, I promise. Okay?"
Kneeling on the bed, he bends down to kiss her. She turns a little and it brushes at the corner of her mouth. He can feel how tight her jaw is and drops another one on her cheek. After a moment he moves, heading toward the door.
"I gotta go. Spencer-" He trails off and Regan sighs.
"Spencer, right."
He looks over his shoulder, knows she's watching him in the dark. He opens his mouth, to say what, he doesn't know, but she waves him away. "I'll be here when you get back."
There's something in her voice that makes Shane's chest ache a little, but he's distracted by Bogart barking and turns to go.
*
Shane breaks a few laws getting over to Spencer's house. The good thing is that it's late enough that there's hardly any traffic. The phone is on the seat next to him on speakerphone, and he tries to keep up a running stream nonsense, mostly for his own state of mind. In his head though, is this whirlwind of thought-Brendon's voice, Regan's, asking nearly the same question-all of it overlaid with the sound of dry heaves and those little sounds of terror that Spencer makes in his sleep sometimes, before things settled down.
The more he thinks about it, his hands tightening on the steering wheel, the more confused he gets. It's not like Spencer is a bad-looking dude, but Shane's never really been interested in guys. Not really, not since-
He shakes his head, trying to focus on the road ahead of him. It'd be stupid to get in an accident because he was too busy wondering why his girlfriend and his best friend thought he was cheating. Besides, Shane thinks as he finally pulls into Spencer's driveway and shuts off the car, Spencer's always been Brendon's.
That thought nearly makes him trip and he stops abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk. Brendon loves Sarah, that's obvious, but the more he thinks about, Shane knows he's right. The sound of Bogart scratching on the other side of the door has him fumbling for the keys, still trying to wrap his mind around that epiphany.
When he finally gets the door open, the dog runs around his feet a couple of times and then settles, nose down between his paws, whining. The house is dark.
"Spencer?"
There's no answer from the interior.
Scooping the dog up into his arms, he moves inside. He heads toward Spencer's bedroom. The light's on in the bathroom and it illuminates the room. The sight of the empty bed, with its blankets tossed about makes him frown. Spencer's not a restless sleeper, not really, when he finally gets down without the dreams so that means he's definitely having the nightmares again.
There's a sound from the bathroom and Bogart starts wiggling, wanting down. He takes off like a shot toward the bathroom and Shane follows him. He's kind of afraid of what he's going to find.
Spencer is splayed on the tile floor, back against the glass of the shower. He's so pale Shane's breath catches in fear. A second later though, Spencer shivers violently. His eyes snap open and Shane barely has time to note the glassy, blank look in them before Spencer's leans forward to dry-heave into the toilet.
"Fuck." Shane moves further into the bathroom, kneeling down. He brushes Spencer's hair back, pushing it behind his ear. The skin under his fingertips is clammy. "Spencer?"
The line of tension in Spencer's back relaxes and he leans into Shane, sighing. One arm is curved around the toilet seat and Spencer's cheek rests along it. He must have closed his eyes because it's a bit startling when he opens them, looking at Shane. The haze in them dissipates as Shane watches Spencer focus on him.
With Herculean effort, Spencer moves back away from the toilet. He doesn't seem to have enough energy to do anything other than lean back against the shower again. Shane's hand falls away. They sit there in silence; Shane doesn't have a clue what to say other than 'I told you so'. Which he had, yeah, but nothing like this ever happened in the last few weeks. He’s not quite sure how to deal with this.
Finally, he gets up. Spencer makes a frantic little noise in his throat at the movement and Shane reassures him, saying quickly, "I'm not leaving, just. It's okay." Grabbing a washcloth from under the sink, he stands there impatiently waiting for the water to heat up. Once it has, he soaks the washcloth and kneels back down.
Spencer flinches a little when the wet cloth hits his skin, but settles almost immediately. When Shane's done, he tosses the rag up into the sink and slides down to sit next to Spencer. He pulls Spencer closer, an arm around his shoulder. Spencer curls into his side, head dropping down to Shane's shoulder. Shane concentrates on the way Spencer's breath blows against his neck, hitching every so often as his body jerks. With a start, Shane realizes that Spencer's trying to stay awake.
"Hey," he says softly, tightening his hand where it's curved around Spencer's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay, Spence. I'm here, you can sleep."
At his words, the last bit of resistance falls away and within minutes, Shane feels Spencer slip into sleep, body lax against his side. It's not the most comfortable position, but it doesn't really matter.
It takes a very long time for Shane to fall asleep.
>><<
"You're being fucking stupid."
Spencer glares over his shoulder, shoving the toaster handle harder than necessary. "Fuck you, I don't-"
"You do need to see a doctor, Spence. This isn't normal!" Shane's all up in his space suddenly, insistent, and Spencer can't help but think about this morning, waking up practically wrapped around Shane on the floor of the bathroom. His face heats up and he snaps, "What am I supposed to tell them then?"
"I don't know-" Dryness laces Shane's words. "Maybe tell them the truth? That you can't sleep?"
Spencer breathes a little easier when Shane turns away, flinging himself down into one of the chairs at the table.
"I really don't care, Spence, but you need to go. Talk to someone who might have a clue as to what's happening to you."
"I really don't think-"
"I'll tell Brendon."
That stops Spencer cold. He fumbles the toast and it drops on the counter. A frantic grab stops it from going off the edge and keeps him from having to respond immediately.
He doesn't know why he doesn't want to tell Brendon. Well, part of it is that he's never seen Brendon this happy, not in the entire time he's known him. Not even when they got signed-when Brendon could leave that shitty one bedroom apartment behind and get out of Vegas-did he seem as happy as he is now. And it sure as hell the happiest Spencer's seen him since the band split. He's reluctant to do anything to break that peace.
Liar, whispers through his head. You just don't want to admit that it has anything to do with Brendon.
Fuck.
"Fine." Shaking his head, he looks over at Shane. A memory of a line of warmth along his side floats through his head and he turns his attention back to the toast. "Fine," he repeats, rubbing a hand over his face. Who knows, maybe they'll actually be able to do something. Shane can't sleep over forever, no matter how much-
Spencer shakes that thought away before it can complete itself, taking a huge bite out of a buttered slice.
Fuck.
*
Shane's in the hallway, pacing back and forth, phone pressed to his ear. Even from inside the waiting room, Spencer can see the tension in Shane's back. He grabs a magazine and doesn't look up until Shane flings himself into the chair next to him.
Keeping his gaze down on the magazine in his hands, he tells Shane, "You don't have to stay. I'm a big boy, you know."
"You're kidding, right?" Spencer can feel the incredulous look directed his way. "Regs will-She's worried about you too, you're her friend. She's just-" There's a shrug from the corner of his eye, but Shane doesn't finish his statement.
"I'm just sayin', you don't have to-"
"Mr. Smith?"
Spencer gets up and moves over towards the nurse. It takes him a second to realize he's by himself. Looking back over his shoulder, he sees Shane still seated. "You coming?"
Shane kind of startles, but grins and stands up. "Aw, Spence. You need someone to hold your hand when they bring out the big needle?"
Rolling his eyes, Spencer refuses to answer and just follows after the nurse. No need to tell Shane that he doesn't care for needles much.
*
Shane closes the door behind him, adjusting the strap of his bag and says, "You should go take a nap."
"What?"
"You look dead on your feet, Spence." Shane shrugs. "I'm here, so you should rest while you can."
"It's the middle of the afternoon."
Tilting his head to the side, Shane gives him a look. "And how much sleep have you had since Brendon left?"
"Fuck you, you aren't my mom, Shane. You don't need to stay." Spencer scowls down at his hands. "And I'm pretty sure Regan isn't happy that you're over here all the time anyway."
"I told you, let me worry about her, okay?" Spencer tries to decipher the look on Shane's face. "She's at work anyway, so it doesn't matter right now. Quit being a dick and go lay down."
"Can I take a piss first? Geez." The words are grumpy, but Spencer doesn't really fight it when Shane pushes him down the hallway.
He fumbles around in the bedroom, changing into some sleep pants and a soft, worn out t-shirt. The sound of Shane messing around echoes down the hallway. The glass door opens and closes, Bogart’s nails clicking on the floor as he runs into the house. He meets Spencer at the bathroom, and Spencer bends down to scratch behind the dog's ears before closing the door. When he comes out, wiping the vestiges of water on his pants, Bogart's patiently waiting. His tail thumps against the wood floor and Spencer can't help grinning. Brendon really did pick a winner with this one.
The scrape of a chair across the tile in the kitchen makes him look up, and a second later, Shane appears at the end of the hallway. They stare at each other for a minute, until Shane's shoulders drop and he sighs.
"You know I'm just looking out for you, right?"
The sincerity on Shane's face makes Spencer feel like an ass. He knows he's been acting like one, but the whole thing makes him feel guilty, too. The truth is he's grateful for Shane, maybe a little too grateful, if the way his stomach keeps twisting lately is any indication. But he hates the nightmares and after last night's episode, he's just about willing to do anything to make this shit stop.
Wrapping his arms around his stomach, he leans against the wall. "Of course I know that. I haven't even really thanked you either, but it's-Just. It's kind of embarrassing, really."
The tips of his ears are getting hot. Great.
"Embarrassing?" Shane frowns at him, confused. "Why?"
He rolls his eyes. "I'm a grown man and it's like, I don't know, the equivalent of needing a night light?" His ears are definitely burning now, which means his cheeks are probably red, too. "Or those links that Brendon used to send Ryan. Shit."
Ryan would probably laugh his ass off to know that Spencer's life is bad pornfiction. Without the porn. Spencer's face feels really hot now and cripes, it’s like he’s 17 again.
"Oh man." Shane grins. "I'd totally forgotten about that."
He gives Spencer a look, smile dimming. "You talk to Ryan lately?"
"No," Spencer answers shortly. Shane's eyebrow goes up. He doesn't really want to talk about Ryan right now, maybe not ever, with what's currently going on. "No, I haven't."
Avoiding further questions, Spencer pushes off the wall. "I think I'm going to go-" He waves a hand toward his bedroom. "Nap." God, he feels like a 5-year old. He rolls his eyes as Shane's grin widens again, and moves into his bedroom.
"Leave your door open!" Shane hollers.
Spencer shouts back, "Fine, Mom," his voice full of sarcasm. It's ridiculous, but he doesn't shut the door.
*
Bogart jumps off the bed at one point and Spencer's eyelids flutter, but they're too heavy and he slips back into sleep a second later.
*
There's terror at the edges of his vision and his heart pounds so hard, he's afraid it will burst from his chest. A hand smoothes over his forehead, a quiet voice comforting in the haze of his dream, and the black bleeds away from the corner of his eyes as he settles.
*
Eyes snapping open, he heaves in a huge gasp of air. Spencer keeps still, trying to calm his heart down. The sun is setting and his room is cloaked in a golden wash of light. The house is quiet.
Stumbling out of bed and down the hallway, Spencer finds Shane passed out on the couch. It takes a moment for Spencer to figure out that Shane's clutching his cell phone in one hand and what is probably a script of some sort in the other. There's a little war going on in Spencer's sleep-drugged brain, whether to head back into the bedroom or just give in and lay down on the couch.
Shane shifts and Spencer thinks fuck it, pulling the phone and paper out of loose fingers and pushing until Shane makes a little protesting noise but moves further into the couch. As Spencer fits himself into the space left, Shane snuffles a, "Hungry?", eyes fluttering open.
"No," Spencer mumbles, "g’back to sleep."
Shane's warm and comfortable, putting his arm over Spencer, and it's barely a few minutes until they're both fast asleep again.
*
The ringing of the phone startles Spencer awake. He flails, the only thing saving him from falling ass-end off the couch is Shane's hand grabbing his shirt. Once he's upright, the stiffness in his neck makes him groan. Shane echoes the sentiment two seconds later. Spencer hears him muttering something about 'never again' but he ignores him for making a mad dash to the phone.
The answering machine is half a second away from clicking on when Spencer finally grabs the phone. "This is Spencer."
Mr. Smith? the voice on the other end questions.
"Yes, this is Spencer Smith."
Shane gives him a look as he passes by. Spencer watches him start making coffee, throwing him a thankful smile.
We've received the results from your blood work- Frowning, he looks at the clock. It's a quarter to nine and Spencer figures there's a damn good reason they both feel crappy for sleeping on the couch; they'd been out for over twelve hours. He cracks his neck, tuning back in, -increased levels of serotonin in your system, but other than that, nothing stands out.
"Serotonin?" He glances over at Shane, who just shrugs. "What would that do?"
Well, high levels of serotonin has been known to affect sleep cycles and patterns, so it's entirely possible that's what we're looking at. Spencer makes a mental note to Google it later. Now, you stated yesterday that you weren't on any medications, correct?
He hums agreement.
No antidepressants then? Using more than the prescribed amount may-
"No, nothing like that," he interrupts. Spencer frowns, brain working ahead. It's no surprise then when the doctor continues. There are certain...recreational drugs, ecstasy, for example, that can tend to keep high levels of serotonin in the system.
The question is there, but the doctor is obviously reluctant to accuse Spencer of lying. Jesus, it's been a year since he's smoked up, and he's never felt curious enough to try anything else.
His voice is a little cold when he responds. "I haven't overdosed on meds and I'm not partaking in illegal drugs, sir. Is there anything else?" Anything helpful, he wants to add.
The doctor clears his throat. I'm extremely reluctant to do so, but I could prescribe a sleep aid. However-
Over the counter sleeping pills had made everything twice as bad. Spencer's not interested in knowing what a clinical dose might do.
"No, thank you," he interrupts again. His mother would probably smack him for being so rude. There's a sigh on the other side of the line.
Mr. Smith, it's extremely important that usage of recreational drugs be-
Spencer breaks in, voice cold. "That's okay, doctor. I appreciate your help." The phone gets hung up a little harder than it should, and Spencer slumps back against the counter, shoulders dropping.
"So." He looks up at the sound of Shane's voice. Leaning against the opposite counter, Shane's eyes are curious and sympathetic. "So I guess we should figure out a schedule then, huh?"
Spencer looks away and doesn't answer.
Part Two
At fourteen, Brendon gets his first wet dream and the ability to smell from thirty feet away whether or not Tyler Greensman took a shower that week. The dreams are normal, if not a bit embarrassing. The smell thing, however, takes nearly six months for him to master. Brendon just thanks god that the two are completely unrelated.
At sixteen, Brendon has mostly stopped believing in God, stopped believing in most everything his parents have put their faith in and what he's grown up surrounded by. He doesn't blame his loss of faith on that rare, recessive genetic trait that makes him completely different, but he's fairly sure that his parents do.
At eighteen, Brendon's been living in a crap apartment for nearly nine months. But a month later he's got a recording contract and a way out of Las Vegas. He doesn't speak to his family for another thirteen months, but being on the road with Ryan, Spencer, and Brent is enough most of the time.
Then he meets Shane.
~*~
The nightmares start about two days after Brendon leaves on vacation with Sarah. They're vague, blurry flashes of horrible things and Spencer has no idea why he can't get rid of them. Three days later, he tries a over-the-counter sleep aid and wakes up, voice raw. From screaming, he realizes, a few minutes later, after his heartbeat has settled around normal and he can breathe without taking in huge gulps of air.
"Fuck," he mutters, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his arms. The darkness answers with silence. A few minutes later, Bogart crawls out from under the bed and jumps up next to Spencer. He noses under Spencer's elbow and nudges a cold nose against his chin. Spencer curls a hand around the dog's head, scratching behind soft ears.
He doesn't go back to sleep.
*
Brendon calls during hour 33 of Spencer's foray into self-induced insomnia and even though Spencer assures him that everything is fine, there’s a slight slur to his words. Brendon reluctantly says goodbye and Spencer nearly misses the table when he goes to put the phone down.
Bogart shuffles out of his way when he turns toward the couch, but doesn't move far. It's kind of cool how the dog hasn't really left his side since that night, like he's doing his best to protect Spencer from his demons. Flopping down on the couch, Bogart's quick to jump up beside him and settle his head on Spencer's lap and Spencer returns the favor by running fingers over his fur.
With a sigh, Spencer leans back. It's a bad idea, but he's so tired. Two minutes later, he's asleep.
*
He's distantly aware of the shouting, the horrendous howl of whatever's chasing him through his mind. There's the pressure of something gripping his shoulder and Spencer lashes out. A second later the pressure's gone.
"Ow, fuck! Shit, Spence, wake the fuck up!"
Spencer's eyes snap open to see Shane ass-end over the coffee table, Bogart prancing around him with the occasional yap-howl thing that Spencer recognizes from his dream.
"What the hell was that, Smith? I get a frantic call from Brendon to come make sure you're okay and I walk in with Bogie howling his fucking head off and you thrashing around on the couch."
Bogart's doing his best to climb up Shane now that he's settled down enough to figure out that's who it is. Shane wraps an arm around him, putting him back on the floor.
"What the fuck?" he asks.
Spencer glances over and sees that he's only been asleep for about thirty minutes. It's just enough to make him even more tired, the adrenaline rush of Shane's appearance fading quickly.
"Bogie, knock it off."
The dog quiets immediately and Spencer pushes off the couch, reaching out to help Shane up. He stares at Spencer for a moment before sighing and accepting the help. Now that they're standing face to face, Spencer can see where he'd made contact. The corner of Shane's eye is red, the skin beginning to puff up.
"Shit," he mutters, guilt rolling through him. "Let's go get some ice for that."
He turns away, heading toward the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he throws a, "Sorry, man. You came in on the wrong part of a bad dream."
Hopefully his tone is nonchalant enough. He doesn't really want to talk about it, doesn't want it to be a big deal.
"No shit. Ow."
When he turns around, Shane is pushing on the swelling skin. He winces and Spencer slaps his hand away. "Quit poking at it, dumbass."
Shane gives him a rueful smile and Spencer can't help his fond eye roll as he steps away to find a towel. There's one left in the drawer and he makes a mental note to do laundry as he piles up some ice. Twisting the ends up, he hands it over. Shane winces again when it presses against his face, but gamely keeps it there.
There’s a smart remark on Spencer’s tongue, but before he can say anything, his stomach grumbles loudly enough to be embarrassing. It makes him realize that he hasn't eaten since early this morning. Shane grins at him and then makes another pained face when it pulls the skin at the corner of his eye.
Pushing him towards the table, Spencer starts grabbing sandwich fixings from the fridge. "Sandwich?"
There's an affirmative noise from the other side of the refrigerator door and when Spencer stands up, hands full, Shane is staring intently at him. Spencer focuses on setting the items in his hands down on the counter, then turns away to grab the bread from the pantry.
"Spence-"
He can hear the concern in Shane's voice, the curiosity. He doesn't want to talk about it.
"Turkey or ham? I've even got some of the vegan bologna that Brendon's keeps trying to tell me is actually good-"
He's halfway back in the fridge when Shane says his name again, quiet but intense. Shutting the door with a frustrated sigh, Spencer turns to look at Shane. He grinds his teeth together as Shane stares back at him. There's a sharpness in Shane's gaze that rarely makes a presence. It always unnerves Spencer a little, since Shane can be an intense guy, but usually only behind the camera.
Focused on Spencer, it feels like Shane's trying to get right inside his head. Spencer doesn't even want what's currently there and he definitely doesn't want his friends exposed to it. Even though he wants to, Spencer doesn't look away.
Whatever Shane sees on his face makes him frown, but his shoulders drop a little and a second later the corner of his mouth tilts up as he asks, "I thought Brendon gave up the whole 'vegan' thing a year ago?"
It's a concession, Spencer knows, but it's one he'll take.
With a snort, he replies. "It's mostly for Sarah. She's been trying it out for the last month or so." He grins at Shane. "With a much better commitment track record than Bren."
It's kind of sweet really, how Brendon shows his support of Sarah. When Spencer points out that Brendon spends more time at her place than she spends at theirs, Brendon just looks at him with stupid puppy eyes and says in a ridiculously earnest voice, "Don't you want to be a supportive friend, Spencer Smith? Hasn't Sarah been good to you?" So Spencer usually ends up putting the stuff in their shopping cart, trying hard not to break something rolling his eyes.
Shane laughs and Spencer finishes up the sandwiches. Sliding the plates down on the table, he moves to sit down, remembers chips and crosses back over to the pantry. When he finally does sit, he looks up to see a definite spark of laughter in Shane's eyes. He frowns.
"What?"
Shane shakes his head, reaching for the bag of chips and opening them. "I always kind of forget how much of a happy homemaker you are."
"Well," Spencer scowls and reaches a hand towards Shane's plate. "I can always-"
"No!" Shane grabs at his plate, nearly losing the bag of chips in the process. It wouldn't be the first time Spencer's retaliated when someone brings up his home-making tendencies.
"All right then, shut the fuck up and eat your sandwich."
Shane huffs and takes a huge bite. Spencer drops his gaze to his own plate, determinedly not noticing another wince. He digs into his own sandwich, eating slower than normal. The amount of caffeine he's been shot-gunning makes his stomach a little unreliable. He looks up to see Shane staring at him again.
"So what are you working on now?" he asks before Shane can ask any more questions.
The distraction works; Shane starts talking, hands waving around. His sandwich is dangerously close to losing its contents all over the table, but Spencer will take the mess.
>><<
Shane admits to great curiosity. The phone call from Brendon hadn’t really been frantic like he’d told Spencer, but there had definitely been something in Brendon's voice that worried him. Walking into the disaster that had been happening at the house, with Bogart making such a racket and Spencer in the throes of a nightmare, gave his worry a little validation.
It's late when Shane knocks on the door, late enough to be considered rude, but he can see lights on through the blinds. He knocks again, tensing when something clatters in the hallway. When the door swings open, he's expecting Spencer to look rough and he does, with the skin under his eyes so dark as to look bruised.
Shane can see Spencer’s about to protest-he's shown up at Spencer's for the last three days-but Shane holds up the bag in his hand and says with a winning smile, "Thai, Spencer. You can't turn down Thai, it's against the rules," and slips inside the house. He ignores the put-upon sigh from Spencer and heads straight into the living room. It’s empty.
"Where's Bogart?" Shane starts unpacking the bag, looking up as Spencer comes up behind the couch.
"Shane-"
He wiggles a carton at Spencer. "Spring rolls and Panang, mmmm."
Spencer shakes his head, but Shane can see the corner of his mouth curl up in amusement as he turns away. Sliding the back door open, Spencer starts to whistle but a second later Bogart's prancing around his feet. He does a couple circles, whining, before running over to greet Shane.
*
They make a dent in the ridiculous amount of food on the coffee table, but Shane notes that Spencer ends up pushing most of his around, not eating much. Afterwards, they play Xbox for a while, but Spencer's movements are sloppy and Shane suggests watching a movie when he sees Spencer’s growing frustration.
There's relief on Spencer's face, panic underlying it. Shane chooses an action movie, one with a lot of explosions and a lot of noise. He plays it louder than necessary, wincing occasionally, but Spencer doesn't seem to mind.
No matter how loud the movie is, Spencer's lack of sleep is obviously catching up with him. He gets up several times, waving off Shane's offer to pause the movie. He comes back with a couple of Red Bulls and ends up downing both of them during the course of the movie. Despite that, Spencer's barely keeping upright by the end of the movie. The end credits are starting to roll when Shane looks over and sees that Spencer has finally succumbed to sleep. He's slumped against the arm of the chair, head tilted at a slightly painful angle.
Shane turns the movie off, moving the channel to some TV shopping network and gets up carefully. Gathering up the trash, he moves around as quietly as possible. When he comes back from the kitchen he finds Bogart with his chin setting on the couch next to Spencer's legs, soft little sighs escaping every so often.
Spencer’s arm twitches. As Shane watches, Spencer’s face twists a little, a discomfiting noise slipping out. Shane frowns as it worsens almost immediately and the look on Spencer's face turns pained. Taking a seat on the arm of the couch, Shane reaches out and places a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. He keeps the touch light just in case, wary of being punched again.
It seems to settle Spencer, but a second later, he shivers violently. A horrible sound falls from Spencer's mouth and Shane tightens his grip without thinking. There’s another full body shake and Shane watches as Spencer turns his face, trying to bury it into the back couch cushion. It’s like he's trying not to look at whatever is in front of him inside his dream. His hair falls into his face and without thinking, Shane reaches up to push it behind his ear. Spencer turns into it, his cheek sliding into the curve of Shane's hand.
It's an intimate gesture and even being alone, the only one awake, it still makes him blush a little. Something twists in his stomach and he's about to move his hand when Spencer breathes a little sigh, his body relaxing. Shane smoothes his thumb over the curve of Spencer's cheek. The skin under Spencer's eyes is thin; the veins so close to the surface. His eyelashes flutter then still, creating shadows against shadowed skin. Shane thinks about how soft they look and then stands abruptly.
His arm's tired anyway.
Stretching, he moves away from the couch and heads down the hallway to the bathroom.
There’s a bottle in the bathroom trashcan. Shane finishes washing his hands and reaches down to pick it up. It's a generic over-the-counter sleep aid and the bottle's almost completely full. Tossing them back into the trash, Shane wanders further down the hall.
Spencer's bed is made, neat except for a few rumples in the bedspread, like maybe he'd tried to lay down but it hadn't lasted long enough to move around.
He moves back into the kitchen, dropping a glance over at the couch; Spencer hasn't really moved. There's a six-pack of large Red Bulls in the refrigerator and a brand-new canister of coffee on the counter.
A noise from the living room interrupts his search and he heads back toward the other room. Spencer's restless again, hands clenching into the material of the couch. He frowns in his sleep, his forehead wrinkling. When he flinches, throwing an arm out like he's trying to push something away, Shane decides that is enough. He sits down on the other side and as gently as he can, pulls Spencer back against his chest. It's going to be a long night and he'd like to be as comfortable as possible. At first, Spencer struggles against Shane.
"Hey, Spence-Hey, it's okay."
He tries to make his voice as soothing as possible, like when Dylan has something in her paw and is reluctant to let him get it out. Spencer reacts in a similar fashion, tensing up to move again but relaxing into Shane's grip a moment later.
It's not the most comfortable position, Spencer is not exactly a lightweight, but a wiggle there and pulling his arm out from between him and the couch and curling it over Spencer's chest makes it a little easier to settle in. He doesn't expect to fall asleep, but Spencer's a warm weight against his chest and it's nearly 3 am.
He doesn't dream and apparently neither does Spencer.
*
Shane jerks awake and immediately groans as his back protests loudly. A pain shoots up his neck when he raises it. He's mostly lying all the way down on the couch, so they must have shifted sometime during the night. However, there's no sign of Spencer as he looks around. A second later, there’s a noise from the kitchen. He gets up, wincing as things twinge that shouldn't. "I'm getting old, shit," he mutters as his back snaps and crackles like he's 80 instead of 27.
When he enters the kitchen, Spencer gives him a glance then quickly turns his attention back to the mushrooms on the cutting board. A little thrill of amused glee shoots through Shane when he notes that the tips of Spencer's ears are red.
"How's my widdle cuddle bear this-" He looks at his watch. 1:14. Shit. "This afternoon?"
Spencer rolls his eyes. "Shut it, ass-face." He points his knife at Shane and adds, "Also, never a good idea to taunt the guy with the knife."
Laughing, Shane leans up against the other side of the island. In a quieter voice, he asks, "Sleep okay?"
"Oh. Yeah, good." Spencer's chin stays tucked in closer to his chest, but he does glance up when he mumbles, "Thanks." He doesn't really give Shane any time to respond, adding, "Hungry?"
Shane's stomach chooses that moment to announce very loudly that yes, he is indeed hungry. "I’ve got a meeting at three, so I need to get my ass home and cleaned up."
Spencer follows him down the hallway, standing in the doorway as Shane heads down the front steps. At the bottom, Shane turns. "So," he catches Spencer's gaze. "I'll come by a little earlier tonight, yeah?"
There’s a protest on Spencer’s tongue, but he bites his lip instead and looks away, an obvious argument going on inside his head. Shane watches, sees it when Spencer comes to a decision. He won't admit the flutter of relief in his stomach when Spencer looks back at him and with a small, self-conscious smile, answers, "That'd be good, yeah."
Shane tosses over his shoulder, "And you're getting dinner tonight, Smith! My wallet's getting thin supporting your ass."
As he slides into the car, Spencer hollers, "You turned it down once, Valdes. No guarantees."
Slamming the door, he leans over to wave like an idiot and Spencer rolls his eyes and heads back into the house. Shane grins to himself as he drives off.
Regan gives him a look as he rushes through the apartment, shedding clothes and headed for the shower, but doesn't say anything. Shane's kind of grateful; he’s not sure how he’d respond.
*
After a few days the circles under Spencer's eyes are gone and he refuses to let Shane stay over again. Shane protests, but Spencer is adamant.
Shane's phone rings at 10:47 pm. two days later, right as he's about to sit down and edit some footage that’s been on his to-do list for a month.
"So, hey." Spencer sounds tired. Shane's not surprised but something jumps in his stomach when Spencer continues. "I've got sushi from that place on McKinnon." Shane loves that place. "Wanna share?"
He leaves a note for Regan.
When he wakes the next morning with Spencer twisted like a pretzel around him, he mutters, "This is bullshit, we're using the bed next time, dammit."
Spencer snorts from where his face is tucked into Shane's armpit. "Deal."
*
It takes less than a week to settle into a routine. During the day, both of them go about their regular routine: Spencer does whatever the hell he normally does when they're off tour (mostly spending a lot of time with Pete, Ashlee, and most importantly, Bronx). Shane makes phone calls, edits video, and plots his next project and how to get other people to pay for it. He also buys two pretty sweet monitors that are taking way too long to get to him.
He tries to spend as much time with Regan as he can get, in the early evenings when she gets off work, on the weekends when he's not shooting. He tries to explain, but it sounds ridiculous even to his own ears. There's a new level of impatience growing as the days pass and he's coming home as she's heading out. He feels bad, but Spencer looks better than he has since Brendon left. Shane’s hoping that once Brendon gets home, they’ll be able to sort everything out and all the tension will be a thing of the past.
*
They're at the kitchen table for once, digging into some leftovers and laughing when Spencer's eyes widen. "Holy shit! Brendon." He's half out of his chair even as Shane twists around to see. "Did I forget that I was supposed to pick you up? Fuck."
Brendon looks a little startled to see Shane. It's after midnight, so Shane can understand. Before Brendon can say anything, Spencer's wrapping him up in a bear hug. A wide, happy smile spreads over Brendon’s face as he hugs back.
"No, we took an earlier flight." He pulls back a little, but keeps Spencer's arm around his shoulders. "We both wanted to get home, you know?"
He glances at Spencer. "I figured you'd be in bed though and I could surprise the shit out of you in the morning." Nodding toward Shane, he continues. "But I guess that's not gonna happen."
Spencer drags him over to the table, demanding details about their trip. It’s ridiculously late when Brendon cracks a yawn so big, it looks painful. They decide to call it a night.
There's an awkward moment when they get up and Shane says, "Well, we'll see you tomorrow then."
Brendon gives him a funny look. "We?"
Spencer jumps in. "We were, uh, supposed to go surfing in the morning." He looks over at Shane. "Right?"
"Yeah." He nods his head, playing along. That funny feeling is back in his stomach. "Yeah, we were, but I don't think that's gonna happen." When he looks down at his watch it reads 4:09. "I'm not getting up before noon, dudes."
Brendon laughs and Spencer sends Shane a thankful look. Shane gives him a small smile before turning back to Brendon. "Good to have you back, bro."
There’s another hug from Brendon, his nose tucked just under the hollow of Shane’s ear. His hugs are a familiar thing and Shane relaxes into it, wrapping his own arms tightly around Brendon. There’s a whispered thank you against his neck and a second later, Brendon's bouncing backwards. Another yawn escapes and Shane laughs.
"All right, all right, I get the message."
When he slides into bed-the sheets aren't as soft or as cool-Regan rolls toward him, humming a questioning sound. Shane replies in a soft voice, "Brendon's home." There's a moment of silence and Shane thinks she mumbles a that's good then before she drifts back to sleep.
Shane nods his head in the dark, he supposes that's true.
>><<
Spencer’s appetite is normal again, no shakes from the amounts of caffeine he'd ingested to stay awake or the nausea that had been a constant friend during exhaustion. He's digging into his burger when Brendon drops a bomb on him.
"I think I'm going to move in with Sarah."
It takes a second for Spencer to chew and swallow. Something like panic dances at the back of his mind. "What?"
"We talked about it. On vacation," he clarifies. Brendon shrugs, pushing the fries around on his plate. "I think-" He finally looks up at Spencer. "I think I'm ready, you know?"
No, Spencer doesn't know. He and Haley had called it quits before they'd gotten to that stage. Also, he didn't need Haley to sleep through the night without being chased by all the demons of hell. That little panic is now tap-dancing on his shoulders.
"Spence?"
He snaps his gaze up to Brendon's face. Trepidation at Spencer’s response is there, along with a little confusion, and Spencer feels like an ass. With a wide grin, he grabs a napkin and dabs it under each eye, faking some sniffles. "Aw, my baby's all grown up." There’s a flutter of eyelashes for effect.
Brendon throws a roll at him, concern wiped away by a wide smile. Spencer catches it and rips it in half. "Speaking of babies-"
He offers one half, pausing as something shifts on Brendon's face. It's a little sad, tinged with something else Spencer can't quite decipher. He shrugs it off, launching into the million and one things that Bronx did that Brendon missed.
In the ensuing madness of getting Brendon's shit ready to move, Spencer forgets to ask about it.
*
Spencer feels a little restless and it's not until Brendon looks up, surrounded by four boxes, a stack of newspapers and a few scattered Red Bull cans, and says, "Where the fuck is Shane? He should be helping," that he realizes why. It's a little unsettling to say the least, and he watches as Brendon digs his phone out.
"Yo, Valdes," Brendon says into the phone, waggling his eyebrows at Spencer.
Spencer rolls his eyes in response, turning away and packing more books into a box. He half-listens to the conversation, thoughts tumbling around in his head. He's slept okay the last few days. A little restless, yeah, but no sign of nightmares. Nothing like before, but something still feels a little off. He tunes back in time to hear Brendon demand, "And we wouldn't be adverse to some grub-What?" He snorts at whatever retort Shane gives him. "Yeah, yeah. See you in a few."
"More free labor," Brendon tells him, tucking the phone back in his pocket. "And it should come with food."
Spencer nods. For some stupid reason, he feels a little apprehensive at seeing Shane. It's stupid, really. He notices Brendon shoving a photograph haphazardly into one his boxes. "What are you doing? I gave you the newspaper for a reason, Urie."
They spend the next half hour arguing about proper packing techniques and Spencer's startled by the door bell. When he opens the door, he can't help but laugh as Shane stands there, two bags of food raised up and says, "I'm having a distinct feeling of deja vu."
Brendon must have finally untangled himself from the mess in the living room because he makes Spencer jump when his chin suddenly rests on Spencer's shoulder. He asks, "Deja vu?"
Even behind the sunglasses, he can see Shane look at him. Shrugging, he twists around, pushing Brendon back down the hallway. "Food time, come on."
Brendon squints at him, not deterred at all. He's about to say something when Spencer smirks. "Shane can decide who's right on the correct way to pack things for moving."
Scoffing, Brendon finally spins around, detangling himself from Spencer's grip. "Shane knows nothing about packing. He's always got a 'job' when he needs shit moved, and everyone else ends up doing it for him."
"Hey!"
Spencer looks over his shoulder at the exclamation. Shane shuts the door with his foot, looking up in time to catch Spencer's gaze. There's a rueful look on his face and he shrugs. "I, um, can't really negate that statement."
Shaking his head as they move into the kitchen, Spencer says sadly, "You are no good to me at all, sheesh."
The bags of food land on the table. "Now that is not true at all."
Brendon hums in agreement and starts digging around one of the bags. Throwing his hands up, Spencer grumbles, "Fine, fine, but don't come crying to me when all your shit's broken."
"Okay." Brendon takes a huge bite out of the burrito in his hand, completely unconcerned.
Spencer looks over to Shane for solidarity and finds him watching Spencer. It's a little unsettling, twisting something around in his stomach. He can feel his ears heating up, too. Grabbing a burrito, he takes a page from Brendon and digs into his food.
If his mouth is full, maybe he won't stick his foot in it.
*
It’s not the last time he catches Shane watching him. Several times over the course of the afternoon, Spencer looks up to find Shane studying him. It's not only that; Spencer keeps leaning into Shane when he's close by, a total disregard of space made comfortable by the last few weeks. It's only when he sees Brendon looking at them funny that Spencer makes a conscious effort to keep himself in check.
They're closing up a box, Shane holding the flaps together as Spencer tapes it shut, when he asks quietly, "How are you doing?"
"Fine." Checking over his shoulder, Brendon's still in his room. "I. I'm good."
"You've been sleeping okay, then. No nightmares?"
Spencer shakes his head. "Nope." It's the truth. He may not be sleeping great-it’s always a bit restless and he’s pretty sure it’s because he got used to having someone there asleep with him-but there hasn't been a single nightmare in the last week. He twists his wrist, tearing the tape and smoothing it down the side of the box. "Not a one."
"Oh." Shane straightens up. "That's. That's good."
It's kind of ridiculous, Spencer thinks. They slept together for the last two weeks and all of a sudden when they're not, it's as if conversation is the most awkward thing ever. It still doesn't mean that he wouldn’t like to curl up with Shane and take a nap right now.
Oh.
That sudden realization is definitely not helping any of the anxiety-inducing thoughts rolling around in his head right now. The panic in Spencer’s head doesn’t seem to show on his face because Shane keeps going.
"What about, um, when Brendon's out of the house? You know what you're going to do then?"
Spencer doesn't know how to answer that. Admitting out loud that Brendon is actually part of the problem is something that Spencer’s not comfortable with doing yet. Not on top of the fact that he apparently didn't just miss sleeping with someone, he missed sleeping with Shane.
"Spencer?"
Shane's obviously expecting an answer, but Spencer can only shake his head. With a frustrated sigh, Shane leans in. "Spence, come on. You know what's going to happen-"
"No, I don't. We can't say that for sure." He turns, blindly reaching into a nearby box. He really, really doesn't want to have this conversation right now.
"What the hell?" Shane moves around the box at their feet until his shoulder brushes Spencer's. "You're not one to usually ignore the obvious, man. And I'm pretty sure you've figured out that it's got something to do with-"
Spencer cuts him off as Shane's voice starts to rise. "Dammit, Shane. Don't-"
"Have you talked to him about it?"
Spencer looks at him like he's crazy. "God, no."
"Why not? He should know."
"What? That I can't sleep without him here? That if he goes off and lives with his girlfriend that I'll be haunted, tormented by horrible nightmares. I can't do that."
Throwing his hands up, Shane says, "I don't know, maybe he can sleep over here once or twice a week?"
"Then what? You'll take the other days? I'm pretty sure Regan's already got something to say about that." A look passes over Shane’s face, but he steps in closer and Spencer's breath catches in his throat. He can feel the line of warmth along his side and Jesus, this is ridiculous. Shane opens his mouth to say something.
"Guys?"
They both jump back from each other, startled. Brendon's staring at the two of them, a frown on his face. "Everything okay in here?"
It's almost like a comedy, Spencer notes, the way he and Shane turn away at the same time and start messing with the shit in separate boxes. He can feel Brendon's stinkeye as he passes by them and into the kitchen. He's completely unsurprised when Brendon calls out a few minutes later, "Shane? Can I talk to you for a sec?"
Shane glances over at Spencer, a wary look on his face, before he heads into the kitchen. There's a murmur of voices, quiet enough that Spencer can't really make out any of the conversation.
It's no big deal, Spencer thinks, it's only sleeping. Despite whatever his brain is trying to make up. Still, Spencer waits barely two minutes before he shuffles over so he can hear more clearly.
"-girlfriend, Bren. Come on."
Man, Spencer knew it was going to be something like that, but he can feel his face heating up. Taking a chance, he glances around the door frame. The two of them are mostly turned away and Brendon's doing that shoulder thing, one hand tucked into his jeans. "Right, right, I know. It's just, um, you guys seem-"
Shane sighs. "We spent a lot of time together while you were gone, yeah. He just-" Shane stops, chin down and Spencer stares at his profile. He knows he's trying to explain without really telling Brendon any real details.
"Just what? What was going on anyway?" Brendon's voice is a little impatient now and Shane shrugs this time, lifting his head to look directly at Brendon.
"I think Spencer should be the one to tell you."
There's confusion in Brendon's voice, definitely frustration, as he huffs out, "What, why?" It's not hard to imagine the look on his face.
"I just-Ask him about it, okay?" Shane puts an arm around Brendon's shoulder, pulling him into his side. "I don't think it's my place. That's all."
"Fine, geez." Brendon's shoulders slump. "I just wanted to, you know, see what was going on between you two."
"Nothing, B, just trying to be a good friend."
"That you are, dude. That you are." The smile is evident in Brendon's voice and Spencer can't help the tilt at the corner of his mouth.
Shane grins. "But you know, Spencer does have those hips-"
"Freak." Brendon hip-checks him and Shane stumbles away, laughing.
"Just sayin'."
Before Brendon can retort his phone rings. Even from the back, Spencer can see Brendon brighten. It's Sarah's ringtone. Shane rolls his eyes as Brendon shoos him away. Brendon moves out on to the deck and Shane glances over to where Spencer’s standing in the doorway, his smile fading. As he passes by Spencer, he mutters, "You need to tell him."
Spencer sighs heavily, leaning back against the wall. Shane goes back to packing and Spencer watches and wonders what the hell is going on with his life.
*
The first night is good.
The second is a little rougher. He wakes up three times, heart pounding. The first two times he reaches for Bogart before he realizes that the dog's not there. Around 5:30 am, he gets up and makes a pot of coffee. He drinks it at the kitchen table, watching a sunbeam travel along the tile in the kitchen. He contemplates calling Shane for all of three seconds and then pushes the thought out of his head.
Later that afternoon, he kidnaps Brendon's dog, declaring visitation rights. Brendon starts to protest, but Sarah's dragging him out the door and Spencer is triumphant. "Besides," he shouts after Brendon, waving the dog's paw goodbye. "Your dog likes me better anyway!"
Brendon flips him off as they drive away.
Looking down at the dog in his arms, he tells him, "Just you and me, huh?" Bogie licks his chin.
Spencer will take that as a yes.
*
It's like nothing changed, Bogart follows him everywhere. He settles on Spencer's lap when Spencer lets him. When he doesn't, the dog sits as close as possible. It should be annoying, but Spencer finds it comforting.
A little after midnight, Spencer can barely keep his eyes open. After the third time he jerks awake, Bogart jumping out of the way just in time to avoid being squished, he decides he might as well be comfortable and heads to bed.
He's out almost instantly, the last thing he recalls is the warm line of Bogart against his hip.
>><<
The sound of the phone is startling in the quiet dark of the bedroom. Despite the fact that Shane wakes almost at once, he fumbles the cell and it lands on the floor. He leans over the side of the bed, hand scrambling after it. Regan noises a question, and Shane can feel her turn over towards him. He finally finds the phone.
"'lo?" He clears his throat. "Hello?"
There's a labored pull of air on the other end, then a dog bark in the background. "Spencer?"
There’s a murmur of consent.
"Spence, are you ok-" A retching sound interrupts his question and a second later Shane jerks the phone away from his ear when it clatters loudly to the floor on the other end. Bogart starts whining, accented by little yip-yowls. Shane tosses the covers off and gets up. "Shit."
"What is it?" Regan's voice is still sleep-slurred as Shane stumbles out of bed, searching for his pants. The room is dark and he trips over the shoes he'd toed off earlier. The phone is pressed tightly against his ear. He can hear Spencer breathing at least, although Bogart's still whining.
"Shane?"
He turns in the dark, jeans gripped triumphantly in his hand. There's enough moonlight filtering in through the closed blinds that he can see she's sitting up, waiting.
"What?" he says, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he tries to slide into his jeans.
"What's going on?" There's a note of rising panic in her voice. Distracted, Shane finally manages not to fall over and buttons his jeans. He chases down the shoe he'd tripped over and it's only when Regan says sharply, "Shane!" that his attention shifts. Shane flinches as Bogart reacts to her voice, barking sharply.
Sitting on the bed, he slips his shoes on, not bothering with socks. "It's Spencer, he's sick."
"Again?" A note of disbelief this time. Shane spent the better part of the last two weeks with Spencer; he can understand that Regan would be a little miffed. Still.
"I told you, Regs, Spencer's been sick, not sleeping well." He finishes putting his shoes on, standing again. "It's probably a relapse, okay? I'm just going to-"
"Brendon's home now, why can't you let him handle it?"
He answers, distracted by the search for his wallet. "Dammit, where's-Brendon doesn’t know how to help."
He finds it in the cushion of the chair where he'd thrown his pants earlier just as Regan retorts, "Oh? So you're the only one who knows how to cure him? That sounds kind of ridiculous-"
In his ear there's the sound of retching again. "Seriously, Regan, I don't have time to argue about this right now. I need to go-"
"Help Spencer, I get it."
He's sliding on his hoodie, switching the phone from one ear to the other when Regan asks, voice soft, "Is there something going on between the two of you?" The question startles him so much that he nearly drops the phone. What the hell? Heat flares up on his face and he's suddenly glad he never turned a light on.
"What!?"
"You just." He can hear her shrug in the dark. "You're over there all the time now..."
"I told you. Spencer's been sick-"
"Then get him some fucking medicine, Shane! Let the doctors take care of it!"
He hates how hurt she sounds and he moves back toward the bed, only something’s happening on the other end of the line. He needs to go. "Look, I can't-Let me take care of this and when I get back we'll talk, I promise. Okay?"
Kneeling on the bed, he bends down to kiss her. She turns a little and it brushes at the corner of her mouth. He can feel how tight her jaw is and drops another one on her cheek. After a moment he moves, heading toward the door.
"I gotta go. Spencer-" He trails off and Regan sighs.
"Spencer, right."
He looks over his shoulder, knows she's watching him in the dark. He opens his mouth, to say what, he doesn't know, but she waves him away. "I'll be here when you get back."
There's something in her voice that makes Shane's chest ache a little, but he's distracted by Bogart barking and turns to go.
*
Shane breaks a few laws getting over to Spencer's house. The good thing is that it's late enough that there's hardly any traffic. The phone is on the seat next to him on speakerphone, and he tries to keep up a running stream nonsense, mostly for his own state of mind. In his head though, is this whirlwind of thought-Brendon's voice, Regan's, asking nearly the same question-all of it overlaid with the sound of dry heaves and those little sounds of terror that Spencer makes in his sleep sometimes, before things settled down.
The more he thinks about it, his hands tightening on the steering wheel, the more confused he gets. It's not like Spencer is a bad-looking dude, but Shane's never really been interested in guys. Not really, not since-
He shakes his head, trying to focus on the road ahead of him. It'd be stupid to get in an accident because he was too busy wondering why his girlfriend and his best friend thought he was cheating. Besides, Shane thinks as he finally pulls into Spencer's driveway and shuts off the car, Spencer's always been Brendon's.
That thought nearly makes him trip and he stops abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk. Brendon loves Sarah, that's obvious, but the more he thinks about, Shane knows he's right. The sound of Bogart scratching on the other side of the door has him fumbling for the keys, still trying to wrap his mind around that epiphany.
When he finally gets the door open, the dog runs around his feet a couple of times and then settles, nose down between his paws, whining. The house is dark.
"Spencer?"
There's no answer from the interior.
Scooping the dog up into his arms, he moves inside. He heads toward Spencer's bedroom. The light's on in the bathroom and it illuminates the room. The sight of the empty bed, with its blankets tossed about makes him frown. Spencer's not a restless sleeper, not really, when he finally gets down without the dreams so that means he's definitely having the nightmares again.
There's a sound from the bathroom and Bogart starts wiggling, wanting down. He takes off like a shot toward the bathroom and Shane follows him. He's kind of afraid of what he's going to find.
Spencer is splayed on the tile floor, back against the glass of the shower. He's so pale Shane's breath catches in fear. A second later though, Spencer shivers violently. His eyes snap open and Shane barely has time to note the glassy, blank look in them before Spencer's leans forward to dry-heave into the toilet.
"Fuck." Shane moves further into the bathroom, kneeling down. He brushes Spencer's hair back, pushing it behind his ear. The skin under his fingertips is clammy. "Spencer?"
The line of tension in Spencer's back relaxes and he leans into Shane, sighing. One arm is curved around the toilet seat and Spencer's cheek rests along it. He must have closed his eyes because it's a bit startling when he opens them, looking at Shane. The haze in them dissipates as Shane watches Spencer focus on him.
With Herculean effort, Spencer moves back away from the toilet. He doesn't seem to have enough energy to do anything other than lean back against the shower again. Shane's hand falls away. They sit there in silence; Shane doesn't have a clue what to say other than 'I told you so'. Which he had, yeah, but nothing like this ever happened in the last few weeks. He’s not quite sure how to deal with this.
Finally, he gets up. Spencer makes a frantic little noise in his throat at the movement and Shane reassures him, saying quickly, "I'm not leaving, just. It's okay." Grabbing a washcloth from under the sink, he stands there impatiently waiting for the water to heat up. Once it has, he soaks the washcloth and kneels back down.
Spencer flinches a little when the wet cloth hits his skin, but settles almost immediately. When Shane's done, he tosses the rag up into the sink and slides down to sit next to Spencer. He pulls Spencer closer, an arm around his shoulder. Spencer curls into his side, head dropping down to Shane's shoulder. Shane concentrates on the way Spencer's breath blows against his neck, hitching every so often as his body jerks. With a start, Shane realizes that Spencer's trying to stay awake.
"Hey," he says softly, tightening his hand where it's curved around Spencer's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay, Spence. I'm here, you can sleep."
At his words, the last bit of resistance falls away and within minutes, Shane feels Spencer slip into sleep, body lax against his side. It's not the most comfortable position, but it doesn't really matter.
It takes a very long time for Shane to fall asleep.
>><<
"You're being fucking stupid."
Spencer glares over his shoulder, shoving the toaster handle harder than necessary. "Fuck you, I don't-"
"You do need to see a doctor, Spence. This isn't normal!" Shane's all up in his space suddenly, insistent, and Spencer can't help but think about this morning, waking up practically wrapped around Shane on the floor of the bathroom. His face heats up and he snaps, "What am I supposed to tell them then?"
"I don't know-" Dryness laces Shane's words. "Maybe tell them the truth? That you can't sleep?"
Spencer breathes a little easier when Shane turns away, flinging himself down into one of the chairs at the table.
"I really don't care, Spence, but you need to go. Talk to someone who might have a clue as to what's happening to you."
"I really don't think-"
"I'll tell Brendon."
That stops Spencer cold. He fumbles the toast and it drops on the counter. A frantic grab stops it from going off the edge and keeps him from having to respond immediately.
He doesn't know why he doesn't want to tell Brendon. Well, part of it is that he's never seen Brendon this happy, not in the entire time he's known him. Not even when they got signed-when Brendon could leave that shitty one bedroom apartment behind and get out of Vegas-did he seem as happy as he is now. And it sure as hell the happiest Spencer's seen him since the band split. He's reluctant to do anything to break that peace.
Liar, whispers through his head. You just don't want to admit that it has anything to do with Brendon.
Fuck.
"Fine." Shaking his head, he looks over at Shane. A memory of a line of warmth along his side floats through his head and he turns his attention back to the toast. "Fine," he repeats, rubbing a hand over his face. Who knows, maybe they'll actually be able to do something. Shane can't sleep over forever, no matter how much-
Spencer shakes that thought away before it can complete itself, taking a huge bite out of a buttered slice.
Fuck.
*
Shane's in the hallway, pacing back and forth, phone pressed to his ear. Even from inside the waiting room, Spencer can see the tension in Shane's back. He grabs a magazine and doesn't look up until Shane flings himself into the chair next to him.
Keeping his gaze down on the magazine in his hands, he tells Shane, "You don't have to stay. I'm a big boy, you know."
"You're kidding, right?" Spencer can feel the incredulous look directed his way. "Regs will-She's worried about you too, you're her friend. She's just-" There's a shrug from the corner of his eye, but Shane doesn't finish his statement.
"I'm just sayin', you don't have to-"
"Mr. Smith?"
Spencer gets up and moves over towards the nurse. It takes him a second to realize he's by himself. Looking back over his shoulder, he sees Shane still seated. "You coming?"
Shane kind of startles, but grins and stands up. "Aw, Spence. You need someone to hold your hand when they bring out the big needle?"
Rolling his eyes, Spencer refuses to answer and just follows after the nurse. No need to tell Shane that he doesn't care for needles much.
*
Shane closes the door behind him, adjusting the strap of his bag and says, "You should go take a nap."
"What?"
"You look dead on your feet, Spence." Shane shrugs. "I'm here, so you should rest while you can."
"It's the middle of the afternoon."
Tilting his head to the side, Shane gives him a look. "And how much sleep have you had since Brendon left?"
"Fuck you, you aren't my mom, Shane. You don't need to stay." Spencer scowls down at his hands. "And I'm pretty sure Regan isn't happy that you're over here all the time anyway."
"I told you, let me worry about her, okay?" Spencer tries to decipher the look on Shane's face. "She's at work anyway, so it doesn't matter right now. Quit being a dick and go lay down."
"Can I take a piss first? Geez." The words are grumpy, but Spencer doesn't really fight it when Shane pushes him down the hallway.
He fumbles around in the bedroom, changing into some sleep pants and a soft, worn out t-shirt. The sound of Shane messing around echoes down the hallway. The glass door opens and closes, Bogart’s nails clicking on the floor as he runs into the house. He meets Spencer at the bathroom, and Spencer bends down to scratch behind the dog's ears before closing the door. When he comes out, wiping the vestiges of water on his pants, Bogart's patiently waiting. His tail thumps against the wood floor and Spencer can't help grinning. Brendon really did pick a winner with this one.
The scrape of a chair across the tile in the kitchen makes him look up, and a second later, Shane appears at the end of the hallway. They stare at each other for a minute, until Shane's shoulders drop and he sighs.
"You know I'm just looking out for you, right?"
The sincerity on Shane's face makes Spencer feel like an ass. He knows he's been acting like one, but the whole thing makes him feel guilty, too. The truth is he's grateful for Shane, maybe a little too grateful, if the way his stomach keeps twisting lately is any indication. But he hates the nightmares and after last night's episode, he's just about willing to do anything to make this shit stop.
Wrapping his arms around his stomach, he leans against the wall. "Of course I know that. I haven't even really thanked you either, but it's-Just. It's kind of embarrassing, really."
The tips of his ears are getting hot. Great.
"Embarrassing?" Shane frowns at him, confused. "Why?"
He rolls his eyes. "I'm a grown man and it's like, I don't know, the equivalent of needing a night light?" His ears are definitely burning now, which means his cheeks are probably red, too. "Or those links that Brendon used to send Ryan. Shit."
Ryan would probably laugh his ass off to know that Spencer's life is bad pornfiction. Without the porn. Spencer's face feels really hot now and cripes, it’s like he’s 17 again.
"Oh man." Shane grins. "I'd totally forgotten about that."
He gives Spencer a look, smile dimming. "You talk to Ryan lately?"
"No," Spencer answers shortly. Shane's eyebrow goes up. He doesn't really want to talk about Ryan right now, maybe not ever, with what's currently going on. "No, I haven't."
Avoiding further questions, Spencer pushes off the wall. "I think I'm going to go-" He waves a hand toward his bedroom. "Nap." God, he feels like a 5-year old. He rolls his eyes as Shane's grin widens again, and moves into his bedroom.
"Leave your door open!" Shane hollers.
Spencer shouts back, "Fine, Mom," his voice full of sarcasm. It's ridiculous, but he doesn't shut the door.
*
Bogart jumps off the bed at one point and Spencer's eyelids flutter, but they're too heavy and he slips back into sleep a second later.
*
There's terror at the edges of his vision and his heart pounds so hard, he's afraid it will burst from his chest. A hand smoothes over his forehead, a quiet voice comforting in the haze of his dream, and the black bleeds away from the corner of his eyes as he settles.
*
Eyes snapping open, he heaves in a huge gasp of air. Spencer keeps still, trying to calm his heart down. The sun is setting and his room is cloaked in a golden wash of light. The house is quiet.
Stumbling out of bed and down the hallway, Spencer finds Shane passed out on the couch. It takes a moment for Spencer to figure out that Shane's clutching his cell phone in one hand and what is probably a script of some sort in the other. There's a little war going on in Spencer's sleep-drugged brain, whether to head back into the bedroom or just give in and lay down on the couch.
Shane shifts and Spencer thinks fuck it, pulling the phone and paper out of loose fingers and pushing until Shane makes a little protesting noise but moves further into the couch. As Spencer fits himself into the space left, Shane snuffles a, "Hungry?", eyes fluttering open.
"No," Spencer mumbles, "g’back to sleep."
Shane's warm and comfortable, putting his arm over Spencer, and it's barely a few minutes until they're both fast asleep again.
*
The ringing of the phone startles Spencer awake. He flails, the only thing saving him from falling ass-end off the couch is Shane's hand grabbing his shirt. Once he's upright, the stiffness in his neck makes him groan. Shane echoes the sentiment two seconds later. Spencer hears him muttering something about 'never again' but he ignores him for making a mad dash to the phone.
The answering machine is half a second away from clicking on when Spencer finally grabs the phone. "This is Spencer."
Mr. Smith? the voice on the other end questions.
"Yes, this is Spencer Smith."
Shane gives him a look as he passes by. Spencer watches him start making coffee, throwing him a thankful smile.
We've received the results from your blood work- Frowning, he looks at the clock. It's a quarter to nine and Spencer figures there's a damn good reason they both feel crappy for sleeping on the couch; they'd been out for over twelve hours. He cracks his neck, tuning back in, -increased levels of serotonin in your system, but other than that, nothing stands out.
"Serotonin?" He glances over at Shane, who just shrugs. "What would that do?"
Well, high levels of serotonin has been known to affect sleep cycles and patterns, so it's entirely possible that's what we're looking at. Spencer makes a mental note to Google it later. Now, you stated yesterday that you weren't on any medications, correct?
He hums agreement.
No antidepressants then? Using more than the prescribed amount may-
"No, nothing like that," he interrupts. Spencer frowns, brain working ahead. It's no surprise then when the doctor continues. There are certain...recreational drugs, ecstasy, for example, that can tend to keep high levels of serotonin in the system.
The question is there, but the doctor is obviously reluctant to accuse Spencer of lying. Jesus, it's been a year since he's smoked up, and he's never felt curious enough to try anything else.
His voice is a little cold when he responds. "I haven't overdosed on meds and I'm not partaking in illegal drugs, sir. Is there anything else?" Anything helpful, he wants to add.
The doctor clears his throat. I'm extremely reluctant to do so, but I could prescribe a sleep aid. However-
Over the counter sleeping pills had made everything twice as bad. Spencer's not interested in knowing what a clinical dose might do.
"No, thank you," he interrupts again. His mother would probably smack him for being so rude. There's a sigh on the other side of the line.
Mr. Smith, it's extremely important that usage of recreational drugs be-
Spencer breaks in, voice cold. "That's okay, doctor. I appreciate your help." The phone gets hung up a little harder than it should, and Spencer slumps back against the counter, shoulders dropping.
"So." He looks up at the sound of Shane's voice. Leaning against the opposite counter, Shane's eyes are curious and sympathetic. "So I guess we should figure out a schedule then, huh?"
Spencer looks away and doesn't answer.
Part Two