The Fickle Friendship of Fate [joncer, nc-17, standalone]
Title: The Fickle Friendship of Fate
Author: silver_etoile
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/Spencer (Ryan/Brendon, Sisky/Butcher, Greta/Bob)
POV: Third
Disclaimer: This is not real
Summary: People said he wasn't thinking when he moved in with Jon, but Spencer supposes he and Jon always do things a little rushed. It's never been a problem but that was before Jon muttered something about children. Now Spencer is struggling to catch up as he's thrown into the world of adoption and trying to figure out what he really wants in the process.
A/N: The long-awaited (? idek) adoption!fic. Now maybe I'll actually work on my bingo card. heh.
*
Jon has never seen Spencer cry. Not once in the past three years that he’s known him. Not even when Dylan had been hit by a car in front of the house and had died on the way to the vet. Jon doesn’t remember Spencer doing anything but taking deep breaths and looking away from the tiny little cat cradled in his arms.
Spencer is always stoic about his emotions, mostly just the unhappy ones, always hides them away where Jon can’t see them.
But Spencer’s hands are shaking and he’s sitting on the grey-blue couch that faces the sliding glass door because when they moved in, Spencer said he didn’t want the whole living room to focus around the TV. Outside, the backyard is bright and sunny, the grass a little overgrown and scattered with dog toys and the occasional weed that Jon forgot to pull last time.
Jon shuts the front door behind him, watching Spencer sitting on the couch, stuffing his hands in between his legs. His shoulders are hunched slightly, but Jon can see the tremble as he sits, turned away from Jon.
“Spence,” Jon says quietly, setting his keys down on the table in the foyer and shrugging off his jacket. He dumps it on the back of the green armchair even though Spencer usually reprimands him for not using the perfectly good hall closet for his jackets.
Spencer doesn’t move, and Jon can hear the breath he takes, a rush of air like he’s trying not to break down completely, even though when Jon rounds the couch, he can see the tear tracks on his face.
Jon’s heart breaks a little more than it already has that day as he looks at Spencer. Spencer doesn’t look at him, focusing on a butterfly outside, white and fluttering around the dandelions poking through the grass.
Sinking down on the couch next to Spencer, Jon sighs lightly - not exasperated or annoyed, but tired and sympathetic. Spencer lets out a shaky breath, and Jon sees his lower lip tremble. Spencer bites down to stop it as another tear rolls down his cheek. He swallows thickly and Jon closes his eyes for a second.
“Spence,” he says again, sliding an arm around Spencer’s shoulders and pulling him in closer. Spencer feels stiff, but he lets Jon hug him, a hand stroking down his hair, and it takes a second before Spencer squeezes his eyes shut and reaches for Jon’s shirt, curling a hand into the soft cotton. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna happen.”
Spencer shakes his head slowly against Jon’s chest and doesn’t say anything for a minute. Jon can feel the wetness staining his shirt, but he doesn’t move away from Spencer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.
His heart is aching and he feels tired as he sits there, Spencer clinging to his shirt and trying not to shake. He’d been so sure it was going to work this time. This one.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Jon murmurs instead of letting his heart break into pieces like Spencer’s obviously has. They can’t both break down. “This is gonna happen. I swear.”
Spencer’s laugh is weak and more a scoff than anything. He’s still pressed against Jon’s chest, fingers wrinkling Jon’s tee shirt.
“This is the second time, Jon,” he mumbles, voice shaking, words muffled in Jon’s shirt as he bites his trembling bottom lip again and doesn’t look up, snuggling in closer.
“I know.” Jon sighs quietly, squeezing Spencer’s shoulders. “I know.”
Spencer doesn’t move, sniffling quietly, and Jon nuzzles his hair softly as they sit together on the couch, watching the butterflies outside.
-
“This house is amazing!”
Spencer grins from where he stands by the brand new couch that he insisted face the window instead of a giant eye-sore television. There is a TV, but it’s tucked away in a corner, in a large wooden cabinet that can be shut when guests are over. The living room hasn’t really been decorated yet and there are a lot of boxes sitting behind the couch, and wrapped framed photographs and paintings are leaning against the front entrance hall wall.
Brendon is standing in the foyer, gazing around at the vaulted ceiling of the living room, the decorative sconces on the walls, the pretty beige carpeting that heads up the stairs to the second floor and the bedrooms there.
Brendon steps into the living room, dodging a few boxes and staring all around, taking in the spacious room that attaches to the kitchen and faux-dining room (it’s really just a space boxed out of the living room big enough for a table). The kitchen is practically gourmet, but Spencer had insisted on getting the house with the beautiful granite countertops, the double-stacked oven, stainless steel fridge, and rich oak cabinetry. Jon hadn’t really tried to argue, just grinned at his enthusiasm and suggested all their kitchen appliances be some shade of blue.
“I still can’t believe you did this,” Brendon says finally, peering out the back door at the perfectly manicured back yard. Spencer is pretty sure it won’t stay that way once the realtor’s office stops paying a gardener to come by and fix it for prospective buyers, but he likes the way it looks now.
“Why?” Spencer asks, almost indignant, but Brendon sends him an amused look.
“How long have you known Jon?” Brendon retorts easily, but the sincerity is there in his eyes, the beaming happiness when Spencer flushes slightly and tries to scowl.
“It’s been, you know, a while…”
Brendon grins at Spencer’s evasion. “Six months,” he provides knowingly and Spencer scowls at him.
“Just because I know what I want doesn’t make me a bad person.”
“I didn’t say that,” Brendon replies, bouncing over and pulling Spencer into a reluctant hug. “I’m happy for you. And Jon.”
Spencer doesn’t really feel appeased. Plenty of people have already told him that they think he’s moving too fast. He just met Jon six months ago when Brendon had dragged him to the mall after breaking Shane’s camera lens, panicked about being flayed alive.
They’d gone to the camera store in the mall, the one Spencer always passed by because his little pocket camera was perfectly fine for what he needed.
Brendon had made immediately for the front counter where some scrawny teenager was organizing lens caps and Spencer picked uninterestedly at camera cases by the front window. He hadn’t noticed the good-looking guy emerging from the back, scaring the teenager, who looked nervous and immediately blathered to Brendon all about the store’s special deals.
The guy had turned out to be Jon, a regional manager of all of that particular camera store in the state, just in to do a bi-yearly check on the store.
Spencer and Jon had flirted over the camera cases, exchanged phone numbers, and when Brendon had finally gotten the lens he needed, Spencer had let Brendon drag him out, Jon’s hand raised in a silent goodbye, his smile lingering on Spencer’s mind.
Six months later, they’re moving into their brand new house and Spencer is tripping over things he didn’t even know Jon had.
Spencer just sighs as Brendon lets go of him and glances around at the boxes.
“I know it’s fast, okay?” he says, eyes falling on the box of DVDs sitting by the TV cabinet and he wonders if he and Jon have any copies of movies. He hasn’t even really checked or thought about it. “And we probably don’t know each other as well as other people, like Sisky and the Butcher, but it feels right.”
“Come on,” Brendon says, practically laughing. “Sisky and the Butcher have known each other since high school. You can’t compare yourself to them.” He brushes imaginary dust off the couch and goes over to the sliding glass door, pushing it open, and a soft, warm breeze drifts in, smelling like summer - grass and flowers, chlorine from the neighbors’ pools.
Spencer still looks reluctant to believe him as he crosses his arms over his chest and sighs, breathing in the air.
It doesn’t feel quite like home yet, but they’ve been moved in all of two days and hardly anything is unpacked. The bedroom upstairs is the most made up but it’s missing the bed since the mattress and bed frame aren’t being delivered until the next day, but that hadn’t stopped Spencer from cornering Jon the night before and de-virginizing the master bedroom on the brand new beige carpeting.
“It’s gonna be awesome, Spence,” Brendon reassures him and Spencer lets out a breath, glancing down as a cat brushes against his ankles. It’s Dylan, meowing up at him, wide amber eyes begging to be petted.
Dropping his arms, he scoops up Dylan, stroking his head while Dylan starts purring.
“Yeah, I guess,” he agrees after a second and can’t stop smiling as Dylan butts at his hand for more pets.
“Spencer?”
Jon’s voice comes down the stairs and Spencer hears him coming down, footsteps muffled on the carpet. He rounds the staircase and smiles the moment he sees Spencer in the living room. Spencer’s heart does a stupid little flip even though it’s been six months and now they live together.
Brendon grins deviously behind Spencer’s back and Spencer sets Dylan down on the couch. Spencer doesn’t get a chance to say anything as Jon grins and comes over.
“Hey,” Jon says, grabbing him around the waist and swinging him around while Spencer’s eyes widen.
“Jon!” he tries to protest but he’s grinning, and Jon set him down after a half-circle. Spencer’s face is flushed red, half in embarrassment, half from just happiness, and Jon leans in, kissing him slowly.
“Ooh, am I getting a free show?” Brendon pipes in deviously, and Spencer breaks away from Jon with half a glare at Brendon. Brendon only grins.
Jon only sighs contentedly, pulling Spencer to him and kissing his cheek easily.
“I like this house,” Jon declares simply and Spencer glances at him. He likes the house too.
*
Spencer loves the kitchen the most of all the rooms in the house, aside from the master bedroom of course. It’s big and open and there’s a skylight that lets the sun filter in from above as he turns on the oven and mixes things in bowls on the speckled granite counter.
He loves waking up to the blue coffee maker (that Jon took the liberty of naming Stevie) bubbling and brewing with the special blend Jon buys from Starbucks every week. It’s probably too much to be spending on coffee, but Spencer doesn’t care because it’s a nice reminder every morning that he lives with Jon, the greatest guy in the world.
Spencer loves the ding of the oven when it’s done preheating, loves the way Jon leaves little yellow post-it notes all over the front of the fridge as reminders. Most of them are something like buy milk or get cat food but there have been a few times when Spencer has stumbled down late on a Saturday morning when Jon has had an early meeting and there’s a little note that says, I ♥ you. It always makes Spencer smile even if he doesn’t mean to. He always pulls it off and dates it, then sticks it into the bottom drawer where Jon never goes with the rest of them.
What Spencer loves most about the kitchen, though, is when Jon gets home from work and dumps his briefcase by the front door, leaves his jacket on the chair even though Spencer has told him a million times to use the hall closet, and sneaks up behind him where he’s chopping up a cucumber for some dish. Jon slides his hands around Spencer’s waist, hugging him lightly and nuzzling into the back of his neck.
“Hi,” Spencer says, a smile in his voice, and Jon hums contentedly, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s neck.
“Whatcha making?” Jon asks a second later when he slides his chin to Spencer’s shoulder, arms still twined around his waist.
“Something special,” Spencer replies, slipping out of Jon’s arms to dump the cucumbers in a bowl. He knows Jon is watching him as he moves to the stove, turning it on and waiting for the pan to heat.
“What’s the occasion?” Jon asks, plucking a piece of apple from another bowl before Spencer can stop him. He crunches happily as Spencer turns away from him, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and adding butter to the pan.
“It’s a surprise,” Spencer just says, dumping the cucumbers to the pan and they sizzle loudly. Spencer pushes at them with a spatula while Jon moves over, sliding his hands up Spencer’s arms to his shoulders, squeezing lightly.
“You’re not gonna tell me?” he asks curiously, massaging Spencer’s shoulders slowly while Spencer smiles down at the pan.
“Not yet,” Spencer says, pushing at the cucumbers while Jon leans in, kissing his neck softly, moving up until he mouths at Spencer’s earlobe and Spencer’s resolve slips a little, but he laughs and shoves at Jon. “Jon, hot pan,” he reminds him, but Jon just shrugs, turning Spencer’s face to his.
“Hot guy in the kitchen,” he counters, leaning in for a slow kiss, and the spatula in Spencer’s hand droops for a second as he kisses back, but he remembers after a second, pushing him back.
“Jon,” he says again, still smiling, but stepping back. “You’ll find out in about twenty minutes. Why don’t you go put your jacket away where it belongs and help set the table.”
“Whatever you say, baby,” Jon promises, kissing his cheek instead and leaving Spencer to finish up in the kitchen.
The dining room table is set when Spencer brings out the first of several dishes and sets it down on the floral-patterned table cloth. The plates are on two sides of the table, the same two sides as always, knives and forks already in place, and Jon has taken the liberty of opening a bottle of wine. The glasses are poured, and Jon is sitting in his chair, smiling at Spencer.
“So what’s the big surprise?” Jon asks when Spencer finally takes his seat and starts serving himself.
Spencer gives him a look. “Do you want a roll?”
Jon doesn’t push it and holds out his plate for Spencer to put two rolls on it. He takes it back and waits for Spencer to finish his useless tasks. It must be something big for Spencer to make such a great meal. Spencer’s dinners are usually just one or two things, not four or five dishes.
Jon reaches for his wine glass and pauses as Spencer finally sighs and a smile creeps onto his face. Jon nudges him under the table with his foot and catches his eyes, lifting his glass.
“What are we toasting to?” he asks and is rewarded by Spencer reaching for his own glass.
Spencer pauses a second and then smiles that smile that Jon just absolutely loves, the one that’s small and secretive, like he knows all the secrets of the world.
“I,” Spencer starts almost dramatically, and Jon waits, “am no longer an assistant professor.”
Jon almost stares but then he grins. “Really?”
Spencer’s smile widens significantly as he nods. “Maja came to my office today and as of yesterday, I am officially Spencer Smith, professor of mathematics.”
“Oh my God!” Jon exclaims, setting down his glass and grabbing Spencer into a hug. “That’s so awesome!”
Spencer is grinning so hard his face might break, but Jon is right there with him, moving back and pushing Spencer’s hair back.
“You’re gonna be an amazing professor,” Jon says decidedly and Spencer grins, pulling him into a kiss.
The food is practically forgotten as Jon climbs out of his chair and into Spencer’s, mouth pressed against his, making a noise when Spencer’s hand slides under his shirt and up his back.
“We should eat dinner,” Jon mumbles against Spencer’s mouth, but Spencer’s mouth is moving down, biting at his jaw, sucking at his neck.
“We could put it in the fridge and eat it later,” Spencer replies easily, and Jon guides his mouth back up.
“But you made it special,” he says when the kiss breaks, and Spencer’s breath is heavier against his skin.
“Don’t care,” Spencer breathes, closing his eyes when Jon leans back in, mouth gliding down his throat. “Can always make it again.”
Jon pauses, glancing at Spencer, who opens his eyes slowly, staring back at him. “Did you make dessert?”
“Yeah,” Spencer replies slowly. “Chocolate mousse.”
“With whipped cream?” Jon asks, and Spencer smiles slowly.
“Uh huh, and cherries.”
Jon pauses again and Spencer kisses him slowly, teasingly, pushing up against him, tongue dipping into his mouth before sucking on his bottom lip. It takes a while but the kiss breaks slowly and Spencer hums softly.
“I’ll get the dessert. Meet you upstairs in two minutes?”
“One minute,” Jon counters, kissing Spencer quickly and climbing up from the chair. Spencer watches him head for the stairs only a second before scrambling up and heading for the fridge.
-
“I just don’t know what to do,” Jon says heavily, turning over the broken camera in his hand as he sits behind his desk, gazing unseeingly at the scattered papers before him, sales reports from the stores he oversees.
The chair on the other side of his desk swings around and Tom gives Jon a serious look.
“You find another one,” he says as though it’s the only logical answer in this case.
“This was the second one, Tom,” Jon stresses, setting down the camera and rubbing his face. He’s tired and every time he thinks about it it feels like someone has reached deep in his chest and pulled his heart out, letting it thud slower and slower until it dies. “I just-I don’t-God, I don’t even know.” He sighs tiredly and shakes his head.
Tom gives him a sympathetic look and takes the camera off his desk, poking the broken lens back in. “How does Spencer feel?”
Jon laughs dejectedly, scrubbing at his hair so it’s messier than normal. He shakes his head helplessly. “He’s… devastated. I don’t know what to do.”
It’s been one thing after another for the past year, from the paperwork getting lost to objections to their living situation to everything in between. He’s beginning to think it’s never going to happen.
He thinks about Spencer at home who’s probably taking Jagger out on a run right now, just to get his mind off it. Or maybe he’s sitting alone in the bedroom, thumbing through the books they’d bought. Jon bites his lip and pushes at the papers scattered over his desk. He brushes them into a pile and lets them fall haphazardly again.
“Hey, come on,” Tom says, trying to be upbeat. “This is gonna happen for you guys. Everybody knows it. Pete’s already taking bets on-well, everything.”
Jon doesn’t smile, just sighs again and plucks at the edge of a paper. Tom sighs, setting down the camera on the desk and twirling the chair a little.
Jon should be working, organizing, something, but he just can’t. Everything feels like it has stopped but it hasn’t, which is the worst part. He’s going to go home to find Spencer watching TV and pretending nothing is wrong, but something is wrong and the strain is starting to show. Two failures will do that to a relationship.
“Maybe it’s just not meant to happen,” Jon mutters finally, pushing at a pen on his desk, and he can practically feel Tom’s eyes widen.
“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” Tom says after a second, sitting back in the chair. “And you better not tell Spencer that. Can you imagine what would happen if you did?”
Jon frowns down at his desk. “He’d break.”
Tom nods and Jon is silent except for the one thought filtering through his mind.
And then I’d break.
-
“One year,” Spencer muses, a stupid smile on his face as they stand in aisle twelve of the convenience store and Brendon stands beside him, peering at the shelves. “Can you believe it? It feels like I just met Jon yesterday and he took me to that stupid mini-golf place.”
“Uh huh,” Brendon replies distractedly, obviously not listening. He grabs a package off the shelf. “I think you should get this one.”
Rolling his eyes, Spencer shoves the box back at Brendon. “I’m not getting flavored condoms.”
“Some taste okay!” Brendon protests and doesn’t even blinks when Spencer gives him a look.
“What you do in your sex life is up to you,” he says despite Brendon’s eye-roll.
“Yeah, like I’ve had sex lately,” Brendon scoffs and it’s Spencer’s turn to roll his eyes. “And you and Jon are just flaunting your perfect life in my face. When are you going to buy a joint cat and name it Mr. Fluffypants?”
“We have Dylan and Clover already,” Spencer replies blithely, perusing the shelves. He knows Brendon is just teasing him. “Besides, didn’t you have a date the other day?”
“He was gross,” Brendon dismisses him. “He chewed with his mouth open.”
“And you don’t?” Spencer counters, and Brendon sticks out his tongue. “Real mature, Mr. Twenty-five Year Old.”
Brendon rolls his eyes and dumps something into the basket that Spencer doesn’t look at.
“At least I’m not married.”
“We’re not married,” Spencer protests and Brendon shakes his head.
“Yet,” he points out. “But you’re already halfway there. Now all you need is a kid.”
Spencer ignores him, heading down another aisle and gazing at the magazines. Brendon follows, picking at the fashion magazines uninterestedly.
“I met Jon’s friend the other day,” Brendon says and Spencer glances over.
“When?”
Brendon shrugs. “At the grocery store. I guess he recognized me or something?” He shrugs again, turning to Spencer. “You did not tell me Jon Walker had hot friends.”
“Um.” Spencer doesn’t really know what to say. He never notices Jon’s friends.
“Anyway, we’re going out on Friday. We’ll see who needs those flavored condoms then.”
“Ew,” Spencer says pointedly, heading for the checkout counter. When he gets there and waits behind an older woman with a basket full of stuff, he turns to Brendon. “Which friend was it?”
“Ryan something,” Brendon replies. “He has got a nice ass.”
The older woman turns to glare at them momentarily before scooting away slightly. Brendon ignores her, eyeing the candy in the display.
“Ryan’s kind of an ass,” Spencer comments although he doesn’t know Ryan that well. He just comes over sometimes with Tom to hang out and watch movies. Spencer doesn’t really care because Jon always spends most of the movie with his hand at the back of his neck, brushing down his skin softly.
Brendon shrugs. “And he’s got a great one. It’s a trade-off, I guess.” He grins at Spencer and nudges him forward as the old woman finally leaves, tossing one last dirty look over her shoulder before she shuffles out the automatic door.
Spencer begins taking the items out of the basket and pauses with an unimpressed look as he turns to Brendon, a small box of warming lube in his hand.
“Brendon-” he starts, but Brendon plucks it from his hand and sets it with the rest of the items, grinning at Spencer.
“You’ll thank me later,” he just says and Spencer sighs, pulling out his wallet.
*
They go out to dinner because Spencer doesn’t want to deal with the clean-up, and Jon sends flowers to Spencer’s office - pink and white roses which then gets Spencer a lot of “aww”s from the women in the Math department whenever they pass by.
“Hey,” Jon says after the appetizers have been served and they’ve toasted to each other.
Spencer looks up from his napkin and smiles at Jon, liking that Jon is wearing the shirt he knows Spencer likes best - the green one that’s soft to the touch. Jon is leaning across the table, elbows on the table, and he smiles at Spencer.
“Hi,” Spencer replies after a second when Jon doesn’t continue.
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” Jon asks and Spencer can’t help grinning.
“Yeah,” he admits, nodding, and Jon nods too.
“Good. ‘Cause I do.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out an envelope and he glances at Spencer.
Spencer frowns slightly. “We said we weren’t going to do gifts.”
“This isn’t for you,” Jon replies easily and Spencer is even more confused.
“It isn’t?”
“No,” Jon says, holding out the envelope, but Spencer doesn’t take it. “It’s for both of us.”
Spencer gives him a confused look, but Jon shakes the envelope a little, so he takes it, slitting it open quickly and pulling out two pieces of paper. Spencer takes a minute to read them, eyebrows furrowing slightly. He looks up at Jon.
“Jon?” he asks, and Jon just raises his eyebrows. “What is this?”
“It’s a ranch in northern California. They have horses and it’s like a bed and breakfast. Nice and quiet.”
Smiling slightly, Spencer slides the gift certificates back in the envelope and sets it to the side. “I love you.”
“Oh, good,” Jon says, sounding relieved. “I was worried you might want to take Brendon with you.”
“Shut up,” Spencer reprimands, rolling his eyes affectionately. “Besides, Brendon’s got a date with Ryan this weekend.”
Jon’s eyebrows go up at that, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he tucks the envelope safely away. He takes a sip of his wine.
“One year,” he comments softly and Spencer nods. “It feels like it’s only been a day.”
“Well, we did move kind of fast,” Spencer admits, folding his napkin over.
Spencer can’t count the number of people who were absolutely sure that he and Jon wouldn’t last a month in their new house, but it’s six months later, and Spencer plans on spending the next sixty years with Jon, screw whatever anyone says.
Jon just smiles around his glass, brown eyes sparkling in the dim, romantic lighting of the restaurant. “I knew the minute I saw you that we’d end up together.”
“So it was fate?” Spencer asks with a laugh, reaching for his wine and Jon just smiles.
“Or destiny.”
Spencer meets Jon’s eyes and hides his smile behind his glass. “You’re starting to sound like Brendon.”
“Oh, no,” Jon assures him. “Our love is so much better than a Disney movie.”
One year has not been long enough, Spencer thinks, as they clink their glasses and drink to the next year or twenty.
*
“So this is what flowers gets me?” Jon asks cockily as the front door slams shut behind them.
The foyer is dark and they bump into a table as Spencer tugs Jon back towards where the stairs should be. He’s got his hands under Jon’s shirt, pushing at it quickly, pulling it over his head as they hit the railing with a clunk and a cat streaks down the stairs and out the little cat door that attaches to the garage.
Jon laughs as Spencer’s hands go for his belt, but he’s caught off guard by Spencer’s mouth on his, hard and demanding as Spencer jerks him forward, towards the stairs.
“This is what you get for being you,” Spencer breathes against Jon’s mouth, the belt buckle finally clinking undone, smirking as he steps back, urging Jon to follow.
“I love being me,” Jon says, following Spencer up the stairs as Spencer turns, a hand still on his belt, leading him to the landing and back to the bedroom.
Spencer turns at the doorframe, wrapping his arms around Jon’s neck and pulling him forward. “Me too,” he murmurs, kissing Jon deeply, tongue sliding into his mouth, and Jon slides his hands around Spencer’s waist, resting at his lower back even as Spencer takes a stumbling step backwards.
They don’t break the kiss even as they hit the bed. Spencer bites Jon’s bottom lip instead, hands sliding down Jon’s bare sides, tracing over his shoulder blade and down his spine. Jon’s groan is soft and he works at Spencer’s shirt, trying to undo the buttons in the front.
“Christ,” he curses breathlessly as he gets a few undone and Spencer slides to his neck, sucking a mark just below his jaw line. “Why are there so many buttons?”
Spencer just hums against his jaw, licking and sucking while Jon tries not to lose focus. His fingers are tripping on the buttons, and in that moment, he hates that Spencer has to wear stupid, sexy button-downs. He finally gets it halfway undone and gives up, sliding his hands underneath, spreading warmly over the expanse of skin, and he can feel Spencer’s soft breath, a rush of hot air against his collar bone.
“Fuck, Jon,” Spencer whispers, and Jon will never get tired of hearing his name like that, breathed into the silence as though it means everything.
Jon dips his mouth down to Spencer’s jaw, pressing kisses all the way down until he’s licking at the dip at his collar bone and Spencer is moaning in his ear, pressing forward until Jon can feel his hardened prick rubbing against his thigh, slow but insistent.
“Jon,” Spencer moans, hands sliding into Jon’s hair, tightening slowly as he groans, grinding forward harder now. “God, I want you.”
Jon’s heart still does a little flip every time Spencer says it, but he just smirks, nipping at Spencer’s collar bone and nudging him back.
“Take your shirt off,” he tells Spencer quickly, and Spencer doesn’t hesitate to fumble with the last few buttons Jon couldn’t get undone. He practically tears the shirt off and Jon can swear he hears a button ping off into some distant corner, but Spencer is back, practically jumping him as he drags him down onto the bed, pushing at Jon’s pants.
Jon doesn’t make a comment that Spencer is impatient or desperate. Instead, he helps Spencer, shoving his pants down and pushing Spencer back, sideways on the bed, but Spencer doesn’t care that the pillows are to his left, he just drags Jon up, catching his mouth in a hard kiss that sends tingles down to Jon’s toes.
Spencer’s leg wraps around Jon’s and he ruts up, panting as the kiss breaks. His cheeks are flushed and he wishes he were wearing less clothing.
“Jon,” he breathes, mouth open and panting against Jon’s mouth as he presses up, erection meeting erection, and Spencer feels hot all over. His eyes are closed and he clings to Jon’s neck, grinding up with Jon’s hips, whining and panting sharply.
“I, fuck,” Jon mutters ineloquently, reaching for Spencer’s pants and tearing the zipper down. He gets his hand inside and Spencer gasps, loud, and swallows hard.
“Yeah,” Spencer pants, sliding back against the bed now that Jon has a good grip. He feels Jon pulling his pants down with his free hand, pushing them past his thighs and off to the floor. “Yeah, fuck me, fuck me.”
Jon is pulling away, hand leaving Spencer’s cock for a second as Spencer groans and Jon rummages in the nightstand, coming out with a brand new, unopened box. He pauses for a second, then glances at Spencer.
Spencer opens his eyes when Jon doesn’t come back immediately. He catches sight of Jon and then the box. Groaning, he lets his head fall back.
“It was Brendon’s idea.”
Jon is silent for a moment, but then Spencer hears the cardboard being torn open and the click of a cap.
“Huh,” Jon says as he comes back, spreading Spencer’s legs and settling in between them. “Brendon has good ideas.” He almost sounds surprised and Spencer doesn’t blame him considering Brendon’s last brilliant idea had been to hang the curtains using a rolly chair. Brendon had ended up in the hospital with a broken arm.
Spencer is distracted from his thoughts of Brendon and his ideas when Jon slides a finger inside and his eyes widen at the sensation. It feels like everything is tingling and he jerks when Jon first moves his finger.
“Okay?” Jon asks carefully, watching the way Spencer blinks, mouth falling open as he pants for breath.
“Yeah,” he breathes finally. “It feels…”
“What?” Jon asks, rubbing his finger further inside and Spencer cuts himself off with a slight whimper.
Fuck, it feels good, but he’s never going to tell Brendon. Brendon already knows too much about his sex life.
“Fuck, it’s good,” Spencer babbles incoherently. “Good, fuck, another, gimme another.”
It tingles and it’s pleasantly warm as Jon adds a second finger, finger fucking him slowly as Spencer clutches at the comforter and bites his lip hard. He wants Jon inside him in about two seconds and he’s going to do something crazy if he doesn’t get it, but luckily, Jon has never been one to tease, so when he takes his fingers out a few moments later, Spencer lets out a breath and reaches for Jon’s arm.
Moving up, Jon pushes Spencer’s legs up, wrapping them around his back, and Spencer pulls Jon down for a sloppy, biting kiss, panted breaths exchanged and tongues sliding together as Jon slicks up his cock and presses it against Spencer’s entrance slowly.
“Please, more,” Spencer groans, sucking on Jon’s bottom lip and sliding a hand down to Jon’s ass. He squeezes once, urging him forward while his blood pulses in his veins, rushing down to where his prick is pressed against his stomach, waiting for Jon to touch him again.
“You’re so fucking hot like this,” Jon says, almost a grunt as he pushes in, and it’s lost in Spencer’s moan, echoed seconds later by Jon as the warmth of the lube shoots up his skin.
“Holy shit,” he curses, pulling back out and rocking in again as Spencer tightens around him. His whole body feels warm, tingling whenever he pushes back in, when Spencer moans, loud enough to wake the house if there was anyone else there.
Spencer’s grip on his back is tight, fingers digging into his shoulder as Jon moves, thrusting in faster, harder, until Spencer is whining and pulling at him, meeting him for an off-center kiss, tongue sliding against his bottom lip, breaking away with a gasp, but just for a second before he’s back, bruising Jon’s mouth and groaning harshly, almost growling when Jon pushes in again.
“Jon, Jon,” he gasps, cheeks pink and breath hot against Jon’s jaw as Jon reaches around, wet fingers grasping his cock, and he chokes back a moan.
It isn’t long until Spencer is gripping Jon’s shoulder tightly, legs slipping on his back as Jon pushes in, eyes closed and trying to focus on holding out.
“J-Jon, I don’t think-I can’t- oh, fuck,” he gets out before he comes, vision going fuzzy for a moment as he clings to Jon and feels Jon keep going, pushing in harder now, faster.
Spencer has his eyes closed when Jon comes, feeling his hips move, the bed edging sideways with the force.
The bedroom is still dark since they never bothered turning on any lights, and the only light in the room is what filters in from the window. The moon is round but not full and the stars are twinkling around it. Their bedroom window overlooks their backyard and consequently the houses in the rest of the neighborhood.
Jon slumps down next to Spencer, sliding a hand up his stomach as he sighs contently. Spencer opens his eyes and rolls into Jon, smiling against his shoulder as Jon presses a soft kiss to his temple.
“Happy anniversary,” Jon breathes and Spencer hums in agreement.
“To you too,” he replies softly and relaxes against Jon, listening to his heartbeat calm, a soothing thud against his palm on his chest.
“Oh, hey,” Jon says after a minute as Spencer starts to drift off, happy and content. “Guess what I heard today.”
“What?” Spencer asks, pressing his nose against Jon’s hair and breathing in deeply. He smells vaguely of the apple shampoo he uses and sort of like paper and ink from working in an office. Spencer knows he smells like whiteboard markers which isn’t much better.
“Greta’s pregnant,” Jon says and Spencer pauses, snuggling in closer.
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” Jon agrees. “I guess she and Bob have been trying for a while.”
“Good for them,” Spencer murmurs softly.
“Do you like kids?” Jon asks after a moment and Spencer makes a soft, tired noise.
“Yeah, sometimes,” he replies with a half smile. “If they’re not in my algebra classes and sleeping through coefficients.”
Jon smiles, brushing Spencer’s hair back lightly. “I love you, Spence.”
Spencer smiles, brushing a kiss against Jon’s skin as he settles down. “Love you too.”
-
When Jon comes home, it’s quiet. Behind him, the sky is grey and it’s been drizzling off and on all day. The front step has a puddle steadily growing from the drip-drip of the gutters overhead. He stands in the doorway for a moment, listening, and he can’t really hear anything aside from the drip that splashes onto his pants.
Stepping inside and shutting the door behind him, he hears the first noise - the sound of dull claws and gangly feet making a beeline out of the kitchen and through the living room.
Jon isn’t surprised to find Jagger, the year and a half old black lab, prostrating himself at his feet, tail wagging madly in his excitement.
“Hey, buddy,” Jon says, a sigh in his words, and he sets down his briefcase and scratches Jagger, who immediately collapses onto his back for Jon to reach his stomach. The dog just pants happily up at him, rolling over the minute Jon straightens up. Jagger prances around Jon’s feet excitedly as Jon heads into the living room. Clover is sitting curled up on the couch and hisses a little as Jagger noses at her.
Spencer’s not there either. The place is immaculate with not a magazine out of place and it doesn’t give Jon much hope as he tosses his jacket over the back of the armchair.
When there’s a clang and a thud from the kitchen, Jagger takes off immediately and Jon follows. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to find, but Spencer standing motionless in the kitchen holding a large wooden spoon, half-covered in batter while the rest of the batter is splattered on the floor, Jagger eagerly lapping up what isn’t hidden under the overturned blue bowl is not it.
Moving cautiously, Jon drops his keys on the counter and watches Spencer carefully.
“Spence?”
Spencer stirs finally, blinking and looking down at the mess. He doesn’t say anything to Jon, just grabs a roll of paper towels and drops to the floor, starting to clean up what Jagger hasn’t already eaten.
“Spencer, what are you doing?” Jon asks calmly and Spencer doesn’t look up at him.
“Cleaning,” he replies just as calmly, scooping gloopy batter back into the bowl and turning it upright.
Sighing to himself, Jon drops down, pulling Spencer’s arm away. “Spencer, just stop for a second.”
“No,” Spencer says, and it’s harder now. “I have to clean this up.”
“It’ll be fine, just-” Jon stops, not knowing what to say, but Spencer jerks his arm from Jon’s grip and pushes more mess into the bowl. He stands up abruptly, heading for the sink. Jon follows, watching Spencer stand motionless before the big, stainless steel sink, gleaming up at him. He probably cleaned it earlier, Jon thinks. “Come on, let’s-let’s watch a movie or something.”
“No!” Spencer says, too loud, and he slams the bowl down in the sink. More batter spatters over the countertops and Spencer pushes at his forehead like he’s tired and stressed, but Jon knows it’s more than that. “I have to clean this up.”
He grabs a sponge and starts scrubbing at the counter while Jon stands helplessly behind him. He can see the strain in Spencer’s face, the way he’s trying to pretend it isn’t affecting him. Jagger noses at his hand as he stands there, not knowing what to do. He doesn’t know how to make this right and he just feels exhausted from the effort of everything.
When Spencer cleans up the entire counter and drops back to the floor, scrubbing at the tile too hard, Jon can’t take it anymore.
“Spencer, Spencer, stop,” he says insistently, pulling Spencer up by his arm, but Spencer doesn’t go willingly, tossing the sponge in the sink and glaring at Jon.
“What?” he snaps, shoulders tense, and even Jagger shies away from his tone, hurrying out of the kitchen. “What do you want me to do, Jon?”
“Just stop cleaning,” Jon says helplessly. “Just come sit with me, or something, anything, I don’t know.”
“I can’t sit or talk or think,” Spencer replies sharply, pushing his hair back with a frustrated sigh. He’s still got batter spattered on his face, his clothes, but he doesn’t wipe it off. “I can’t do anything. Jon, I-I don’t-argh!”
It isn’t really a cohesive sentence, and Spencer is already striding out of the kitchen and into the living room. Jon follows even though he knows Spencer probably doesn’t want him to.
“Spence, we have to talk about this. We have to make a decision.”
“We did make a decision!” Spencer spits, whirling around and glaring at Jon, but behind the hardened eyes, Jon can see the hurt wavering, the truth behind all his words and actions. “We made a decision and now, it’s just, I can’t.” He pauses, shaking his head, breathing labored like he’s just been out for a run. He casts around the room for the right words and his eyes land on Jon’s jacket over the chair. Instead of continuing his thought, his eyes narrow and he snatches the jacket. “Why is it so hard for you to put things away in their fucking place?” he snaps, turning around and marching to the hall closet. He opens the door and tosses the jacket in, not even bothering to hang it up properly.
Jon winces as the closet door slams and Spencer shoots him one last glare as he heads up the stairs purposefully.
Jon doesn’t follow, sighing in the house that, for the first time in two and a half years, seems too big.
-
Spencer doesn’t really know what movie is playing, but he’s pretty sure it’s the second or third of the night. The coffee table is scattered with beer bottles and pizza boxes, and Ryan is gesturing wildly and talking about something on screen while Tom groans and punches him in the arm to get him to stop talking.
Jon just smiles and Spencer rests his head against Jon’s shoulder, a hand sitting easily against his thigh. He’s not paying attention to the movie or Ryan’s running commentary on it.
“Oh my god, stop talking about the musical score!” Tom groans finally, putting his hands over his ears. “For once, can we watch a movie where Ryan doesn’t talk through the whole thing?”
Ryan looks a little insulted and crosses his arms while Jon laughs. Spencer doesn’t care either way.
“I am not that bad,” Ryan argues, then mutters under his breath, “You should try seeing a movie with Brendon.”
“What’s wrong with Brendon?” Spencer asks, a ripple of annoyance washing over him. As far as he’s heard, Brendon’s date with Ryan went well. They certainly had a good night anyway from what Brendon told him. Brendon had only said that Ryan was kind of boring outside of the bedroom, but Spencer suspected that was Brendon’s way of saying that he liked Ryan a little too much.
“He never shuts up,” Ryan replies, arching an eyebrow and Spencer sits up a little, but Jon’s arm around his shoulder prevents him from going too far, and when he glances at Jon, Jon sends him a little look, and he frowns.
“Maybe you need to learn how,” Spencer shoots back instead and Ryan frowns slightly. Spencer feels better and settles back against Jon.
Tom rolls his eyes and sits back in the arm chair, dropping popcorn kernels into the fabric and Spencer will have to vacuum them out later.
“Will you stop dropping food?” he says finally when he can’t take it anymore, and Tom looks up at him, a handful halfway to his mouth.
“You guys should just get a dog,” Tom says instead. “Then you wouldn’t have to vacuum.”
Spencer pauses and doesn’t respond, glancing up at Jon. Dylan’s little shoe box is barely buried in the backyard under the rosebush. He’s not sure getting another pet so soon is a good idea. Jon doesn’t respond to the suggestion, just slides his hand against the back of Spencer’s neck.
Spencer knows Jon is still upset about it, and Spencer can’t say he feels much better. He’s heard Jon, though, talking to Clover and trying to explain to her why Dylan isn’t there anymore. He thinks even Clover has noticed, slinking around more than normal and shying away when people try to pet her.
“Have you guys seen Greta lately?” Spencer asks instead, changing the subject easily. “She’s pretty big for three months.”
“Maybe it’s twins,” Tom says, stuffing the popcorn in his mouth now.
“Can you imagine?” Jon asks with a grin. “Twins would be so hard.”
“They’d be cute,” Spencer offers vaguely, shrugging. “You could give them ridiculous matching names.”
“And they’d hate you forever,” Tom points out, then pauses, watching Spencer for a second. “So you like kids, Spencer?”
Spencer shrugs, not noticing the way Jon is giving Tom a look to shut up. “They’re okay.”
“I don’t see why anyone would ever want kids,” Ryan pipes in finally, looking away from the movie. “They’re messy and loud and annoying, demanding, prissy.”
“So just like you?” Tom asks and Ryan scowls.
“I think some kids can be cute,” Spencer offers. “Sometimes, when they’re not mine.” He smiles and lets Jon twine their fingers together.
“Ugh, you guys are so disgustingly cute,” Tom groans, making a face. “You need to stop it.”
Jon laughs, breath ruffling Spencer’s hair. “We just need to find you someone.”
“Preferably from a women’s prison,” Ryan mutters and Tom punches him again.
*
“Look at this one! It’s adorable!”
Spencer glances over at the onesie Brendon is holding up. He arches an eyebrow at the words splashed across the front and shakes his head.
“That’s kind of gross if you think about it.”
Brendon turns it back around and reads it again. It’s white and reads, Fresh from the oven in brown letters. He pauses.
“Yeah, it kind of is,” he agrees after a second and puts it back.
The store they’re in is filled to the brim with baby things. There are stuffed animals, cribs, shiny, plastic toys, mobiles, clothes. Spencer doesn’t even know what to do with it all. He’s just there to shop for Greta’s baby shower. He picks out a green bunny instead and dumps it into the basket as they weave their way down another aisle.
“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” Brendon asks, picking at more vomit-inducing onesies. Why everything has to be so obnoxiously cute, Spencer doesn’t know.
“I don’t know,” Spencer replies, gazing at the wall of pacifiers.
“What would you want if you had a kid?” Brendon asks, plucking a few off the wall and reading the back of the packages interestedly.
Spencer laughs slightly. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m having one.”
Brendon shrugs, putting the pacifiers back and bouncing over to the cribs. “I should get one of these for Ryan. He’s such a baby.”
Spencer arches an eyebrow, running a hand over the white crib. “I thought everything was okay.”
“He’s so annoying,” Brendon replies. “Every time we go out, he talks about dumb movies and poetry books and how he has these visions for the music industry and turning rap into poetry jams.”
“You like music,” Spencer points out. “And why are you still dating him if he annoys you? It’s been nearly seven months already.”
Brendon smirks, plucking the bunny from the basket and waving its ears at Spencer. “Because once he stops talking, he’s not so annoying anymore.”
Rolling his eyes, Spencer takes the rabbit back. “He said you talk too much.”
“When?” Brendon asks indignantly, following Spencer to the register.
“I don’t know, a while ago. Why don’t you just break up?”
“We did,” Brendon replies simply. “And then we got back together, and then we broke up again. And now… I don’t know. I should call him.”
Spencer doesn’t even bother rolling his eyes as he sets the basket up on the counter and the girl starts ringing up his purchases.
“Hello, did you find everything alright?” she asks cheerfully, scanning the bunny and putting it into a bag.
“Yeah, thanks,” Spencer mutters, pulling out with wallet while Brendon pouts beside him.
“Did he really say that? ‘Cause I don’t talk that much.”
“Bren, let it go,” Spencer says tiredly.
“Are you two adopting?” the girl asks, interrupting the conversation, and Spencer can only stare at her, hand frozen inside his wallet.
Then Brendon laughs and slaps Spencer’s back. Spencer blinks, confused, and frowns slightly.
“Uh, no,” he says slowly and the girl’s eyes widen a little.
“Oh, sorry,” she says quickly, bagging the rest of the items. “It’s just, we get a lot of alternative couples in here.”
“Well, we’re not one,” Spencer says, a little annoyed that she assumed he and Brendon are together.
“Right, sorry,” she says again, taking Spencer’s card and running the bill.
Spencer stands there, confused and a little annoyed, but he manages a polite smile as she hands back his card and thanks him.
Brendon is still laughing as they make it out of the store to the large parking lot, passing by the signs that say, “Stork parking” to his car on the other side.
“I can’t believe she thought we were adopting,” Brendon snorts a little. “Like we’d ever have a kid. You hate kids.”
“I do not,” Spencer argues as they reach the car and he unlocks it, pulling the door open. “And I wouldn’t have a kid with you anyway.”
“Why not?” Brendon asks, hopping in the passenger seat.
Spencer slides in and shuts the door, turning on the car before glancing at Brendon.
“You talk too much.”
At Brendon’s squawk, Spencer smirks and pulls out of the lot.
*
When Spencer gets home, he nearly trips over the little black puppy that greets him at the door. It’s hardly as big as his shoe, but it’s wiggling all over his feet, happy to see him. Rolling his eyes fondly, Spencer steps around him carefully, heading for the couch where Jon is flipping through a camera magazine. Spencer dumps the bags behind the couch and leans around, pressing a kiss to Jon’s jaw.
“Hey,” Jon greets him easily, a smile in his voice. “You’re back.”
“Yeah,” Spencer agrees, rounding the couch and flopping down next to Jon. The puppy follows eagerly, trying to jump up but Spencer doesn’t let him. Only Clover is allowed on the furniture, and only because she doesn’t like the dog and needs somewhere to hide. “Had to get out of there before Brendon bought every ugly baby shirt there is.”
Jon laughs, pulling Spencer to him and kissing his cheek softly. “They can’t all be bad.”
“It’s like a drugged pregnant woman made them all up.”
“I wouldn’t say that at the shower if I were you,” Jon counsels and Spencer sighs, petting the puppy who’s got his front paws up on the couch, stretched as tall as he can go.
Jagger is just barely two months old, and Spencer still can’t believe they have a puppy. It was Jon who brought him home just a week ago, saying something about Vicky’s dog having puppies and being unable to resist. Spencer does admit that Jagger is pretty adorable, especially when he whines in his sleep, little paws twitching.
“The girl at the store thought Brendon and I were a couple,” Spencer says after a second, laughing slightly. “Isn’t that stupid?”
Jon laughs too, his hand carding through Spencer’s hair gently. “What did she think you were doing?”
“Adopting,” Spencer scoffs, shaking his head and laughing. “Can you imagine?”
Jon is quiet for a second, hand still stroking through his hair as they sit on the couch and Jagger finally gives up trying for their attention. Instead, he spots Clover sneaking down the stairs and streaks off after her.
“It’s not that crazy,” Jon says after a second and Spencer shifts, glancing up at him.
Jon just smiles softly, leaning in and kissing Spencer on the lips.
“I guess not,” Spencer agrees and settles back down, listening as Jagger yelps and runs back, a cat scratch now decorating his muzzle.
Part Two -->
Author: silver_etoile
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/Spencer (Ryan/Brendon, Sisky/Butcher, Greta/Bob)
POV: Third
Disclaimer: This is not real
Summary: People said he wasn't thinking when he moved in with Jon, but Spencer supposes he and Jon always do things a little rushed. It's never been a problem but that was before Jon muttered something about children. Now Spencer is struggling to catch up as he's thrown into the world of adoption and trying to figure out what he really wants in the process.
A/N: The long-awaited (? idek) adoption!fic. Now maybe I'll actually work on my bingo card. heh.
*
Jon has never seen Spencer cry. Not once in the past three years that he’s known him. Not even when Dylan had been hit by a car in front of the house and had died on the way to the vet. Jon doesn’t remember Spencer doing anything but taking deep breaths and looking away from the tiny little cat cradled in his arms.
Spencer is always stoic about his emotions, mostly just the unhappy ones, always hides them away where Jon can’t see them.
But Spencer’s hands are shaking and he’s sitting on the grey-blue couch that faces the sliding glass door because when they moved in, Spencer said he didn’t want the whole living room to focus around the TV. Outside, the backyard is bright and sunny, the grass a little overgrown and scattered with dog toys and the occasional weed that Jon forgot to pull last time.
Jon shuts the front door behind him, watching Spencer sitting on the couch, stuffing his hands in between his legs. His shoulders are hunched slightly, but Jon can see the tremble as he sits, turned away from Jon.
“Spence,” Jon says quietly, setting his keys down on the table in the foyer and shrugging off his jacket. He dumps it on the back of the green armchair even though Spencer usually reprimands him for not using the perfectly good hall closet for his jackets.
Spencer doesn’t move, and Jon can hear the breath he takes, a rush of air like he’s trying not to break down completely, even though when Jon rounds the couch, he can see the tear tracks on his face.
Jon’s heart breaks a little more than it already has that day as he looks at Spencer. Spencer doesn’t look at him, focusing on a butterfly outside, white and fluttering around the dandelions poking through the grass.
Sinking down on the couch next to Spencer, Jon sighs lightly - not exasperated or annoyed, but tired and sympathetic. Spencer lets out a shaky breath, and Jon sees his lower lip tremble. Spencer bites down to stop it as another tear rolls down his cheek. He swallows thickly and Jon closes his eyes for a second.
“Spence,” he says again, sliding an arm around Spencer’s shoulders and pulling him in closer. Spencer feels stiff, but he lets Jon hug him, a hand stroking down his hair, and it takes a second before Spencer squeezes his eyes shut and reaches for Jon’s shirt, curling a hand into the soft cotton. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna happen.”
Spencer shakes his head slowly against Jon’s chest and doesn’t say anything for a minute. Jon can feel the wetness staining his shirt, but he doesn’t move away from Spencer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.
His heart is aching and he feels tired as he sits there, Spencer clinging to his shirt and trying not to shake. He’d been so sure it was going to work this time. This one.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Jon murmurs instead of letting his heart break into pieces like Spencer’s obviously has. They can’t both break down. “This is gonna happen. I swear.”
Spencer’s laugh is weak and more a scoff than anything. He’s still pressed against Jon’s chest, fingers wrinkling Jon’s tee shirt.
“This is the second time, Jon,” he mumbles, voice shaking, words muffled in Jon’s shirt as he bites his trembling bottom lip again and doesn’t look up, snuggling in closer.
“I know.” Jon sighs quietly, squeezing Spencer’s shoulders. “I know.”
Spencer doesn’t move, sniffling quietly, and Jon nuzzles his hair softly as they sit together on the couch, watching the butterflies outside.
-
“This house is amazing!”
Spencer grins from where he stands by the brand new couch that he insisted face the window instead of a giant eye-sore television. There is a TV, but it’s tucked away in a corner, in a large wooden cabinet that can be shut when guests are over. The living room hasn’t really been decorated yet and there are a lot of boxes sitting behind the couch, and wrapped framed photographs and paintings are leaning against the front entrance hall wall.
Brendon is standing in the foyer, gazing around at the vaulted ceiling of the living room, the decorative sconces on the walls, the pretty beige carpeting that heads up the stairs to the second floor and the bedrooms there.
Brendon steps into the living room, dodging a few boxes and staring all around, taking in the spacious room that attaches to the kitchen and faux-dining room (it’s really just a space boxed out of the living room big enough for a table). The kitchen is practically gourmet, but Spencer had insisted on getting the house with the beautiful granite countertops, the double-stacked oven, stainless steel fridge, and rich oak cabinetry. Jon hadn’t really tried to argue, just grinned at his enthusiasm and suggested all their kitchen appliances be some shade of blue.
“I still can’t believe you did this,” Brendon says finally, peering out the back door at the perfectly manicured back yard. Spencer is pretty sure it won’t stay that way once the realtor’s office stops paying a gardener to come by and fix it for prospective buyers, but he likes the way it looks now.
“Why?” Spencer asks, almost indignant, but Brendon sends him an amused look.
“How long have you known Jon?” Brendon retorts easily, but the sincerity is there in his eyes, the beaming happiness when Spencer flushes slightly and tries to scowl.
“It’s been, you know, a while…”
Brendon grins at Spencer’s evasion. “Six months,” he provides knowingly and Spencer scowls at him.
“Just because I know what I want doesn’t make me a bad person.”
“I didn’t say that,” Brendon replies, bouncing over and pulling Spencer into a reluctant hug. “I’m happy for you. And Jon.”
Spencer doesn’t really feel appeased. Plenty of people have already told him that they think he’s moving too fast. He just met Jon six months ago when Brendon had dragged him to the mall after breaking Shane’s camera lens, panicked about being flayed alive.
They’d gone to the camera store in the mall, the one Spencer always passed by because his little pocket camera was perfectly fine for what he needed.
Brendon had made immediately for the front counter where some scrawny teenager was organizing lens caps and Spencer picked uninterestedly at camera cases by the front window. He hadn’t noticed the good-looking guy emerging from the back, scaring the teenager, who looked nervous and immediately blathered to Brendon all about the store’s special deals.
The guy had turned out to be Jon, a regional manager of all of that particular camera store in the state, just in to do a bi-yearly check on the store.
Spencer and Jon had flirted over the camera cases, exchanged phone numbers, and when Brendon had finally gotten the lens he needed, Spencer had let Brendon drag him out, Jon’s hand raised in a silent goodbye, his smile lingering on Spencer’s mind.
Six months later, they’re moving into their brand new house and Spencer is tripping over things he didn’t even know Jon had.
Spencer just sighs as Brendon lets go of him and glances around at the boxes.
“I know it’s fast, okay?” he says, eyes falling on the box of DVDs sitting by the TV cabinet and he wonders if he and Jon have any copies of movies. He hasn’t even really checked or thought about it. “And we probably don’t know each other as well as other people, like Sisky and the Butcher, but it feels right.”
“Come on,” Brendon says, practically laughing. “Sisky and the Butcher have known each other since high school. You can’t compare yourself to them.” He brushes imaginary dust off the couch and goes over to the sliding glass door, pushing it open, and a soft, warm breeze drifts in, smelling like summer - grass and flowers, chlorine from the neighbors’ pools.
Spencer still looks reluctant to believe him as he crosses his arms over his chest and sighs, breathing in the air.
It doesn’t feel quite like home yet, but they’ve been moved in all of two days and hardly anything is unpacked. The bedroom upstairs is the most made up but it’s missing the bed since the mattress and bed frame aren’t being delivered until the next day, but that hadn’t stopped Spencer from cornering Jon the night before and de-virginizing the master bedroom on the brand new beige carpeting.
“It’s gonna be awesome, Spence,” Brendon reassures him and Spencer lets out a breath, glancing down as a cat brushes against his ankles. It’s Dylan, meowing up at him, wide amber eyes begging to be petted.
Dropping his arms, he scoops up Dylan, stroking his head while Dylan starts purring.
“Yeah, I guess,” he agrees after a second and can’t stop smiling as Dylan butts at his hand for more pets.
“Spencer?”
Jon’s voice comes down the stairs and Spencer hears him coming down, footsteps muffled on the carpet. He rounds the staircase and smiles the moment he sees Spencer in the living room. Spencer’s heart does a stupid little flip even though it’s been six months and now they live together.
Brendon grins deviously behind Spencer’s back and Spencer sets Dylan down on the couch. Spencer doesn’t get a chance to say anything as Jon grins and comes over.
“Hey,” Jon says, grabbing him around the waist and swinging him around while Spencer’s eyes widen.
“Jon!” he tries to protest but he’s grinning, and Jon set him down after a half-circle. Spencer’s face is flushed red, half in embarrassment, half from just happiness, and Jon leans in, kissing him slowly.
“Ooh, am I getting a free show?” Brendon pipes in deviously, and Spencer breaks away from Jon with half a glare at Brendon. Brendon only grins.
Jon only sighs contentedly, pulling Spencer to him and kissing his cheek easily.
“I like this house,” Jon declares simply and Spencer glances at him. He likes the house too.
*
Spencer loves the kitchen the most of all the rooms in the house, aside from the master bedroom of course. It’s big and open and there’s a skylight that lets the sun filter in from above as he turns on the oven and mixes things in bowls on the speckled granite counter.
He loves waking up to the blue coffee maker (that Jon took the liberty of naming Stevie) bubbling and brewing with the special blend Jon buys from Starbucks every week. It’s probably too much to be spending on coffee, but Spencer doesn’t care because it’s a nice reminder every morning that he lives with Jon, the greatest guy in the world.
Spencer loves the ding of the oven when it’s done preheating, loves the way Jon leaves little yellow post-it notes all over the front of the fridge as reminders. Most of them are something like buy milk or get cat food but there have been a few times when Spencer has stumbled down late on a Saturday morning when Jon has had an early meeting and there’s a little note that says, I ♥ you. It always makes Spencer smile even if he doesn’t mean to. He always pulls it off and dates it, then sticks it into the bottom drawer where Jon never goes with the rest of them.
What Spencer loves most about the kitchen, though, is when Jon gets home from work and dumps his briefcase by the front door, leaves his jacket on the chair even though Spencer has told him a million times to use the hall closet, and sneaks up behind him where he’s chopping up a cucumber for some dish. Jon slides his hands around Spencer’s waist, hugging him lightly and nuzzling into the back of his neck.
“Hi,” Spencer says, a smile in his voice, and Jon hums contentedly, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s neck.
“Whatcha making?” Jon asks a second later when he slides his chin to Spencer’s shoulder, arms still twined around his waist.
“Something special,” Spencer replies, slipping out of Jon’s arms to dump the cucumbers in a bowl. He knows Jon is watching him as he moves to the stove, turning it on and waiting for the pan to heat.
“What’s the occasion?” Jon asks, plucking a piece of apple from another bowl before Spencer can stop him. He crunches happily as Spencer turns away from him, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and adding butter to the pan.
“It’s a surprise,” Spencer just says, dumping the cucumbers to the pan and they sizzle loudly. Spencer pushes at them with a spatula while Jon moves over, sliding his hands up Spencer’s arms to his shoulders, squeezing lightly.
“You’re not gonna tell me?” he asks curiously, massaging Spencer’s shoulders slowly while Spencer smiles down at the pan.
“Not yet,” Spencer says, pushing at the cucumbers while Jon leans in, kissing his neck softly, moving up until he mouths at Spencer’s earlobe and Spencer’s resolve slips a little, but he laughs and shoves at Jon. “Jon, hot pan,” he reminds him, but Jon just shrugs, turning Spencer’s face to his.
“Hot guy in the kitchen,” he counters, leaning in for a slow kiss, and the spatula in Spencer’s hand droops for a second as he kisses back, but he remembers after a second, pushing him back.
“Jon,” he says again, still smiling, but stepping back. “You’ll find out in about twenty minutes. Why don’t you go put your jacket away where it belongs and help set the table.”
“Whatever you say, baby,” Jon promises, kissing his cheek instead and leaving Spencer to finish up in the kitchen.
The dining room table is set when Spencer brings out the first of several dishes and sets it down on the floral-patterned table cloth. The plates are on two sides of the table, the same two sides as always, knives and forks already in place, and Jon has taken the liberty of opening a bottle of wine. The glasses are poured, and Jon is sitting in his chair, smiling at Spencer.
“So what’s the big surprise?” Jon asks when Spencer finally takes his seat and starts serving himself.
Spencer gives him a look. “Do you want a roll?”
Jon doesn’t push it and holds out his plate for Spencer to put two rolls on it. He takes it back and waits for Spencer to finish his useless tasks. It must be something big for Spencer to make such a great meal. Spencer’s dinners are usually just one or two things, not four or five dishes.
Jon reaches for his wine glass and pauses as Spencer finally sighs and a smile creeps onto his face. Jon nudges him under the table with his foot and catches his eyes, lifting his glass.
“What are we toasting to?” he asks and is rewarded by Spencer reaching for his own glass.
Spencer pauses a second and then smiles that smile that Jon just absolutely loves, the one that’s small and secretive, like he knows all the secrets of the world.
“I,” Spencer starts almost dramatically, and Jon waits, “am no longer an assistant professor.”
Jon almost stares but then he grins. “Really?”
Spencer’s smile widens significantly as he nods. “Maja came to my office today and as of yesterday, I am officially Spencer Smith, professor of mathematics.”
“Oh my God!” Jon exclaims, setting down his glass and grabbing Spencer into a hug. “That’s so awesome!”
Spencer is grinning so hard his face might break, but Jon is right there with him, moving back and pushing Spencer’s hair back.
“You’re gonna be an amazing professor,” Jon says decidedly and Spencer grins, pulling him into a kiss.
The food is practically forgotten as Jon climbs out of his chair and into Spencer’s, mouth pressed against his, making a noise when Spencer’s hand slides under his shirt and up his back.
“We should eat dinner,” Jon mumbles against Spencer’s mouth, but Spencer’s mouth is moving down, biting at his jaw, sucking at his neck.
“We could put it in the fridge and eat it later,” Spencer replies easily, and Jon guides his mouth back up.
“But you made it special,” he says when the kiss breaks, and Spencer’s breath is heavier against his skin.
“Don’t care,” Spencer breathes, closing his eyes when Jon leans back in, mouth gliding down his throat. “Can always make it again.”
Jon pauses, glancing at Spencer, who opens his eyes slowly, staring back at him. “Did you make dessert?”
“Yeah,” Spencer replies slowly. “Chocolate mousse.”
“With whipped cream?” Jon asks, and Spencer smiles slowly.
“Uh huh, and cherries.”
Jon pauses again and Spencer kisses him slowly, teasingly, pushing up against him, tongue dipping into his mouth before sucking on his bottom lip. It takes a while but the kiss breaks slowly and Spencer hums softly.
“I’ll get the dessert. Meet you upstairs in two minutes?”
“One minute,” Jon counters, kissing Spencer quickly and climbing up from the chair. Spencer watches him head for the stairs only a second before scrambling up and heading for the fridge.
-
“I just don’t know what to do,” Jon says heavily, turning over the broken camera in his hand as he sits behind his desk, gazing unseeingly at the scattered papers before him, sales reports from the stores he oversees.
The chair on the other side of his desk swings around and Tom gives Jon a serious look.
“You find another one,” he says as though it’s the only logical answer in this case.
“This was the second one, Tom,” Jon stresses, setting down the camera and rubbing his face. He’s tired and every time he thinks about it it feels like someone has reached deep in his chest and pulled his heart out, letting it thud slower and slower until it dies. “I just-I don’t-God, I don’t even know.” He sighs tiredly and shakes his head.
Tom gives him a sympathetic look and takes the camera off his desk, poking the broken lens back in. “How does Spencer feel?”
Jon laughs dejectedly, scrubbing at his hair so it’s messier than normal. He shakes his head helplessly. “He’s… devastated. I don’t know what to do.”
It’s been one thing after another for the past year, from the paperwork getting lost to objections to their living situation to everything in between. He’s beginning to think it’s never going to happen.
He thinks about Spencer at home who’s probably taking Jagger out on a run right now, just to get his mind off it. Or maybe he’s sitting alone in the bedroom, thumbing through the books they’d bought. Jon bites his lip and pushes at the papers scattered over his desk. He brushes them into a pile and lets them fall haphazardly again.
“Hey, come on,” Tom says, trying to be upbeat. “This is gonna happen for you guys. Everybody knows it. Pete’s already taking bets on-well, everything.”
Jon doesn’t smile, just sighs again and plucks at the edge of a paper. Tom sighs, setting down the camera on the desk and twirling the chair a little.
Jon should be working, organizing, something, but he just can’t. Everything feels like it has stopped but it hasn’t, which is the worst part. He’s going to go home to find Spencer watching TV and pretending nothing is wrong, but something is wrong and the strain is starting to show. Two failures will do that to a relationship.
“Maybe it’s just not meant to happen,” Jon mutters finally, pushing at a pen on his desk, and he can practically feel Tom’s eyes widen.
“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” Tom says after a second, sitting back in the chair. “And you better not tell Spencer that. Can you imagine what would happen if you did?”
Jon frowns down at his desk. “He’d break.”
Tom nods and Jon is silent except for the one thought filtering through his mind.
And then I’d break.
-
“One year,” Spencer muses, a stupid smile on his face as they stand in aisle twelve of the convenience store and Brendon stands beside him, peering at the shelves. “Can you believe it? It feels like I just met Jon yesterday and he took me to that stupid mini-golf place.”
“Uh huh,” Brendon replies distractedly, obviously not listening. He grabs a package off the shelf. “I think you should get this one.”
Rolling his eyes, Spencer shoves the box back at Brendon. “I’m not getting flavored condoms.”
“Some taste okay!” Brendon protests and doesn’t even blinks when Spencer gives him a look.
“What you do in your sex life is up to you,” he says despite Brendon’s eye-roll.
“Yeah, like I’ve had sex lately,” Brendon scoffs and it’s Spencer’s turn to roll his eyes. “And you and Jon are just flaunting your perfect life in my face. When are you going to buy a joint cat and name it Mr. Fluffypants?”
“We have Dylan and Clover already,” Spencer replies blithely, perusing the shelves. He knows Brendon is just teasing him. “Besides, didn’t you have a date the other day?”
“He was gross,” Brendon dismisses him. “He chewed with his mouth open.”
“And you don’t?” Spencer counters, and Brendon sticks out his tongue. “Real mature, Mr. Twenty-five Year Old.”
Brendon rolls his eyes and dumps something into the basket that Spencer doesn’t look at.
“At least I’m not married.”
“We’re not married,” Spencer protests and Brendon shakes his head.
“Yet,” he points out. “But you’re already halfway there. Now all you need is a kid.”
Spencer ignores him, heading down another aisle and gazing at the magazines. Brendon follows, picking at the fashion magazines uninterestedly.
“I met Jon’s friend the other day,” Brendon says and Spencer glances over.
“When?”
Brendon shrugs. “At the grocery store. I guess he recognized me or something?” He shrugs again, turning to Spencer. “You did not tell me Jon Walker had hot friends.”
“Um.” Spencer doesn’t really know what to say. He never notices Jon’s friends.
“Anyway, we’re going out on Friday. We’ll see who needs those flavored condoms then.”
“Ew,” Spencer says pointedly, heading for the checkout counter. When he gets there and waits behind an older woman with a basket full of stuff, he turns to Brendon. “Which friend was it?”
“Ryan something,” Brendon replies. “He has got a nice ass.”
The older woman turns to glare at them momentarily before scooting away slightly. Brendon ignores her, eyeing the candy in the display.
“Ryan’s kind of an ass,” Spencer comments although he doesn’t know Ryan that well. He just comes over sometimes with Tom to hang out and watch movies. Spencer doesn’t really care because Jon always spends most of the movie with his hand at the back of his neck, brushing down his skin softly.
Brendon shrugs. “And he’s got a great one. It’s a trade-off, I guess.” He grins at Spencer and nudges him forward as the old woman finally leaves, tossing one last dirty look over her shoulder before she shuffles out the automatic door.
Spencer begins taking the items out of the basket and pauses with an unimpressed look as he turns to Brendon, a small box of warming lube in his hand.
“Brendon-” he starts, but Brendon plucks it from his hand and sets it with the rest of the items, grinning at Spencer.
“You’ll thank me later,” he just says and Spencer sighs, pulling out his wallet.
*
They go out to dinner because Spencer doesn’t want to deal with the clean-up, and Jon sends flowers to Spencer’s office - pink and white roses which then gets Spencer a lot of “aww”s from the women in the Math department whenever they pass by.
“Hey,” Jon says after the appetizers have been served and they’ve toasted to each other.
Spencer looks up from his napkin and smiles at Jon, liking that Jon is wearing the shirt he knows Spencer likes best - the green one that’s soft to the touch. Jon is leaning across the table, elbows on the table, and he smiles at Spencer.
“Hi,” Spencer replies after a second when Jon doesn’t continue.
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” Jon asks and Spencer can’t help grinning.
“Yeah,” he admits, nodding, and Jon nods too.
“Good. ‘Cause I do.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out an envelope and he glances at Spencer.
Spencer frowns slightly. “We said we weren’t going to do gifts.”
“This isn’t for you,” Jon replies easily and Spencer is even more confused.
“It isn’t?”
“No,” Jon says, holding out the envelope, but Spencer doesn’t take it. “It’s for both of us.”
Spencer gives him a confused look, but Jon shakes the envelope a little, so he takes it, slitting it open quickly and pulling out two pieces of paper. Spencer takes a minute to read them, eyebrows furrowing slightly. He looks up at Jon.
“Jon?” he asks, and Jon just raises his eyebrows. “What is this?”
“It’s a ranch in northern California. They have horses and it’s like a bed and breakfast. Nice and quiet.”
Smiling slightly, Spencer slides the gift certificates back in the envelope and sets it to the side. “I love you.”
“Oh, good,” Jon says, sounding relieved. “I was worried you might want to take Brendon with you.”
“Shut up,” Spencer reprimands, rolling his eyes affectionately. “Besides, Brendon’s got a date with Ryan this weekend.”
Jon’s eyebrows go up at that, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he tucks the envelope safely away. He takes a sip of his wine.
“One year,” he comments softly and Spencer nods. “It feels like it’s only been a day.”
“Well, we did move kind of fast,” Spencer admits, folding his napkin over.
Spencer can’t count the number of people who were absolutely sure that he and Jon wouldn’t last a month in their new house, but it’s six months later, and Spencer plans on spending the next sixty years with Jon, screw whatever anyone says.
Jon just smiles around his glass, brown eyes sparkling in the dim, romantic lighting of the restaurant. “I knew the minute I saw you that we’d end up together.”
“So it was fate?” Spencer asks with a laugh, reaching for his wine and Jon just smiles.
“Or destiny.”
Spencer meets Jon’s eyes and hides his smile behind his glass. “You’re starting to sound like Brendon.”
“Oh, no,” Jon assures him. “Our love is so much better than a Disney movie.”
One year has not been long enough, Spencer thinks, as they clink their glasses and drink to the next year or twenty.
*
“So this is what flowers gets me?” Jon asks cockily as the front door slams shut behind them.
The foyer is dark and they bump into a table as Spencer tugs Jon back towards where the stairs should be. He’s got his hands under Jon’s shirt, pushing at it quickly, pulling it over his head as they hit the railing with a clunk and a cat streaks down the stairs and out the little cat door that attaches to the garage.
Jon laughs as Spencer’s hands go for his belt, but he’s caught off guard by Spencer’s mouth on his, hard and demanding as Spencer jerks him forward, towards the stairs.
“This is what you get for being you,” Spencer breathes against Jon’s mouth, the belt buckle finally clinking undone, smirking as he steps back, urging Jon to follow.
“I love being me,” Jon says, following Spencer up the stairs as Spencer turns, a hand still on his belt, leading him to the landing and back to the bedroom.
Spencer turns at the doorframe, wrapping his arms around Jon’s neck and pulling him forward. “Me too,” he murmurs, kissing Jon deeply, tongue sliding into his mouth, and Jon slides his hands around Spencer’s waist, resting at his lower back even as Spencer takes a stumbling step backwards.
They don’t break the kiss even as they hit the bed. Spencer bites Jon’s bottom lip instead, hands sliding down Jon’s bare sides, tracing over his shoulder blade and down his spine. Jon’s groan is soft and he works at Spencer’s shirt, trying to undo the buttons in the front.
“Christ,” he curses breathlessly as he gets a few undone and Spencer slides to his neck, sucking a mark just below his jaw line. “Why are there so many buttons?”
Spencer just hums against his jaw, licking and sucking while Jon tries not to lose focus. His fingers are tripping on the buttons, and in that moment, he hates that Spencer has to wear stupid, sexy button-downs. He finally gets it halfway undone and gives up, sliding his hands underneath, spreading warmly over the expanse of skin, and he can feel Spencer’s soft breath, a rush of hot air against his collar bone.
“Fuck, Jon,” Spencer whispers, and Jon will never get tired of hearing his name like that, breathed into the silence as though it means everything.
Jon dips his mouth down to Spencer’s jaw, pressing kisses all the way down until he’s licking at the dip at his collar bone and Spencer is moaning in his ear, pressing forward until Jon can feel his hardened prick rubbing against his thigh, slow but insistent.
“Jon,” Spencer moans, hands sliding into Jon’s hair, tightening slowly as he groans, grinding forward harder now. “God, I want you.”
Jon’s heart still does a little flip every time Spencer says it, but he just smirks, nipping at Spencer’s collar bone and nudging him back.
“Take your shirt off,” he tells Spencer quickly, and Spencer doesn’t hesitate to fumble with the last few buttons Jon couldn’t get undone. He practically tears the shirt off and Jon can swear he hears a button ping off into some distant corner, but Spencer is back, practically jumping him as he drags him down onto the bed, pushing at Jon’s pants.
Jon doesn’t make a comment that Spencer is impatient or desperate. Instead, he helps Spencer, shoving his pants down and pushing Spencer back, sideways on the bed, but Spencer doesn’t care that the pillows are to his left, he just drags Jon up, catching his mouth in a hard kiss that sends tingles down to Jon’s toes.
Spencer’s leg wraps around Jon’s and he ruts up, panting as the kiss breaks. His cheeks are flushed and he wishes he were wearing less clothing.
“Jon,” he breathes, mouth open and panting against Jon’s mouth as he presses up, erection meeting erection, and Spencer feels hot all over. His eyes are closed and he clings to Jon’s neck, grinding up with Jon’s hips, whining and panting sharply.
“I, fuck,” Jon mutters ineloquently, reaching for Spencer’s pants and tearing the zipper down. He gets his hand inside and Spencer gasps, loud, and swallows hard.
“Yeah,” Spencer pants, sliding back against the bed now that Jon has a good grip. He feels Jon pulling his pants down with his free hand, pushing them past his thighs and off to the floor. “Yeah, fuck me, fuck me.”
Jon is pulling away, hand leaving Spencer’s cock for a second as Spencer groans and Jon rummages in the nightstand, coming out with a brand new, unopened box. He pauses for a second, then glances at Spencer.
Spencer opens his eyes when Jon doesn’t come back immediately. He catches sight of Jon and then the box. Groaning, he lets his head fall back.
“It was Brendon’s idea.”
Jon is silent for a moment, but then Spencer hears the cardboard being torn open and the click of a cap.
“Huh,” Jon says as he comes back, spreading Spencer’s legs and settling in between them. “Brendon has good ideas.” He almost sounds surprised and Spencer doesn’t blame him considering Brendon’s last brilliant idea had been to hang the curtains using a rolly chair. Brendon had ended up in the hospital with a broken arm.
Spencer is distracted from his thoughts of Brendon and his ideas when Jon slides a finger inside and his eyes widen at the sensation. It feels like everything is tingling and he jerks when Jon first moves his finger.
“Okay?” Jon asks carefully, watching the way Spencer blinks, mouth falling open as he pants for breath.
“Yeah,” he breathes finally. “It feels…”
“What?” Jon asks, rubbing his finger further inside and Spencer cuts himself off with a slight whimper.
Fuck, it feels good, but he’s never going to tell Brendon. Brendon already knows too much about his sex life.
“Fuck, it’s good,” Spencer babbles incoherently. “Good, fuck, another, gimme another.”
It tingles and it’s pleasantly warm as Jon adds a second finger, finger fucking him slowly as Spencer clutches at the comforter and bites his lip hard. He wants Jon inside him in about two seconds and he’s going to do something crazy if he doesn’t get it, but luckily, Jon has never been one to tease, so when he takes his fingers out a few moments later, Spencer lets out a breath and reaches for Jon’s arm.
Moving up, Jon pushes Spencer’s legs up, wrapping them around his back, and Spencer pulls Jon down for a sloppy, biting kiss, panted breaths exchanged and tongues sliding together as Jon slicks up his cock and presses it against Spencer’s entrance slowly.
“Please, more,” Spencer groans, sucking on Jon’s bottom lip and sliding a hand down to Jon’s ass. He squeezes once, urging him forward while his blood pulses in his veins, rushing down to where his prick is pressed against his stomach, waiting for Jon to touch him again.
“You’re so fucking hot like this,” Jon says, almost a grunt as he pushes in, and it’s lost in Spencer’s moan, echoed seconds later by Jon as the warmth of the lube shoots up his skin.
“Holy shit,” he curses, pulling back out and rocking in again as Spencer tightens around him. His whole body feels warm, tingling whenever he pushes back in, when Spencer moans, loud enough to wake the house if there was anyone else there.
Spencer’s grip on his back is tight, fingers digging into his shoulder as Jon moves, thrusting in faster, harder, until Spencer is whining and pulling at him, meeting him for an off-center kiss, tongue sliding against his bottom lip, breaking away with a gasp, but just for a second before he’s back, bruising Jon’s mouth and groaning harshly, almost growling when Jon pushes in again.
“Jon, Jon,” he gasps, cheeks pink and breath hot against Jon’s jaw as Jon reaches around, wet fingers grasping his cock, and he chokes back a moan.
It isn’t long until Spencer is gripping Jon’s shoulder tightly, legs slipping on his back as Jon pushes in, eyes closed and trying to focus on holding out.
“J-Jon, I don’t think-I can’t- oh, fuck,” he gets out before he comes, vision going fuzzy for a moment as he clings to Jon and feels Jon keep going, pushing in harder now, faster.
Spencer has his eyes closed when Jon comes, feeling his hips move, the bed edging sideways with the force.
The bedroom is still dark since they never bothered turning on any lights, and the only light in the room is what filters in from the window. The moon is round but not full and the stars are twinkling around it. Their bedroom window overlooks their backyard and consequently the houses in the rest of the neighborhood.
Jon slumps down next to Spencer, sliding a hand up his stomach as he sighs contently. Spencer opens his eyes and rolls into Jon, smiling against his shoulder as Jon presses a soft kiss to his temple.
“Happy anniversary,” Jon breathes and Spencer hums in agreement.
“To you too,” he replies softly and relaxes against Jon, listening to his heartbeat calm, a soothing thud against his palm on his chest.
“Oh, hey,” Jon says after a minute as Spencer starts to drift off, happy and content. “Guess what I heard today.”
“What?” Spencer asks, pressing his nose against Jon’s hair and breathing in deeply. He smells vaguely of the apple shampoo he uses and sort of like paper and ink from working in an office. Spencer knows he smells like whiteboard markers which isn’t much better.
“Greta’s pregnant,” Jon says and Spencer pauses, snuggling in closer.
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” Jon agrees. “I guess she and Bob have been trying for a while.”
“Good for them,” Spencer murmurs softly.
“Do you like kids?” Jon asks after a moment and Spencer makes a soft, tired noise.
“Yeah, sometimes,” he replies with a half smile. “If they’re not in my algebra classes and sleeping through coefficients.”
Jon smiles, brushing Spencer’s hair back lightly. “I love you, Spence.”
Spencer smiles, brushing a kiss against Jon’s skin as he settles down. “Love you too.”
-
When Jon comes home, it’s quiet. Behind him, the sky is grey and it’s been drizzling off and on all day. The front step has a puddle steadily growing from the drip-drip of the gutters overhead. He stands in the doorway for a moment, listening, and he can’t really hear anything aside from the drip that splashes onto his pants.
Stepping inside and shutting the door behind him, he hears the first noise - the sound of dull claws and gangly feet making a beeline out of the kitchen and through the living room.
Jon isn’t surprised to find Jagger, the year and a half old black lab, prostrating himself at his feet, tail wagging madly in his excitement.
“Hey, buddy,” Jon says, a sigh in his words, and he sets down his briefcase and scratches Jagger, who immediately collapses onto his back for Jon to reach his stomach. The dog just pants happily up at him, rolling over the minute Jon straightens up. Jagger prances around Jon’s feet excitedly as Jon heads into the living room. Clover is sitting curled up on the couch and hisses a little as Jagger noses at her.
Spencer’s not there either. The place is immaculate with not a magazine out of place and it doesn’t give Jon much hope as he tosses his jacket over the back of the armchair.
When there’s a clang and a thud from the kitchen, Jagger takes off immediately and Jon follows. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to find, but Spencer standing motionless in the kitchen holding a large wooden spoon, half-covered in batter while the rest of the batter is splattered on the floor, Jagger eagerly lapping up what isn’t hidden under the overturned blue bowl is not it.
Moving cautiously, Jon drops his keys on the counter and watches Spencer carefully.
“Spence?”
Spencer stirs finally, blinking and looking down at the mess. He doesn’t say anything to Jon, just grabs a roll of paper towels and drops to the floor, starting to clean up what Jagger hasn’t already eaten.
“Spencer, what are you doing?” Jon asks calmly and Spencer doesn’t look up at him.
“Cleaning,” he replies just as calmly, scooping gloopy batter back into the bowl and turning it upright.
Sighing to himself, Jon drops down, pulling Spencer’s arm away. “Spencer, just stop for a second.”
“No,” Spencer says, and it’s harder now. “I have to clean this up.”
“It’ll be fine, just-” Jon stops, not knowing what to say, but Spencer jerks his arm from Jon’s grip and pushes more mess into the bowl. He stands up abruptly, heading for the sink. Jon follows, watching Spencer stand motionless before the big, stainless steel sink, gleaming up at him. He probably cleaned it earlier, Jon thinks. “Come on, let’s-let’s watch a movie or something.”
“No!” Spencer says, too loud, and he slams the bowl down in the sink. More batter spatters over the countertops and Spencer pushes at his forehead like he’s tired and stressed, but Jon knows it’s more than that. “I have to clean this up.”
He grabs a sponge and starts scrubbing at the counter while Jon stands helplessly behind him. He can see the strain in Spencer’s face, the way he’s trying to pretend it isn’t affecting him. Jagger noses at his hand as he stands there, not knowing what to do. He doesn’t know how to make this right and he just feels exhausted from the effort of everything.
When Spencer cleans up the entire counter and drops back to the floor, scrubbing at the tile too hard, Jon can’t take it anymore.
“Spencer, Spencer, stop,” he says insistently, pulling Spencer up by his arm, but Spencer doesn’t go willingly, tossing the sponge in the sink and glaring at Jon.
“What?” he snaps, shoulders tense, and even Jagger shies away from his tone, hurrying out of the kitchen. “What do you want me to do, Jon?”
“Just stop cleaning,” Jon says helplessly. “Just come sit with me, or something, anything, I don’t know.”
“I can’t sit or talk or think,” Spencer replies sharply, pushing his hair back with a frustrated sigh. He’s still got batter spattered on his face, his clothes, but he doesn’t wipe it off. “I can’t do anything. Jon, I-I don’t-argh!”
It isn’t really a cohesive sentence, and Spencer is already striding out of the kitchen and into the living room. Jon follows even though he knows Spencer probably doesn’t want him to.
“Spence, we have to talk about this. We have to make a decision.”
“We did make a decision!” Spencer spits, whirling around and glaring at Jon, but behind the hardened eyes, Jon can see the hurt wavering, the truth behind all his words and actions. “We made a decision and now, it’s just, I can’t.” He pauses, shaking his head, breathing labored like he’s just been out for a run. He casts around the room for the right words and his eyes land on Jon’s jacket over the chair. Instead of continuing his thought, his eyes narrow and he snatches the jacket. “Why is it so hard for you to put things away in their fucking place?” he snaps, turning around and marching to the hall closet. He opens the door and tosses the jacket in, not even bothering to hang it up properly.
Jon winces as the closet door slams and Spencer shoots him one last glare as he heads up the stairs purposefully.
Jon doesn’t follow, sighing in the house that, for the first time in two and a half years, seems too big.
-
Spencer doesn’t really know what movie is playing, but he’s pretty sure it’s the second or third of the night. The coffee table is scattered with beer bottles and pizza boxes, and Ryan is gesturing wildly and talking about something on screen while Tom groans and punches him in the arm to get him to stop talking.
Jon just smiles and Spencer rests his head against Jon’s shoulder, a hand sitting easily against his thigh. He’s not paying attention to the movie or Ryan’s running commentary on it.
“Oh my god, stop talking about the musical score!” Tom groans finally, putting his hands over his ears. “For once, can we watch a movie where Ryan doesn’t talk through the whole thing?”
Ryan looks a little insulted and crosses his arms while Jon laughs. Spencer doesn’t care either way.
“I am not that bad,” Ryan argues, then mutters under his breath, “You should try seeing a movie with Brendon.”
“What’s wrong with Brendon?” Spencer asks, a ripple of annoyance washing over him. As far as he’s heard, Brendon’s date with Ryan went well. They certainly had a good night anyway from what Brendon told him. Brendon had only said that Ryan was kind of boring outside of the bedroom, but Spencer suspected that was Brendon’s way of saying that he liked Ryan a little too much.
“He never shuts up,” Ryan replies, arching an eyebrow and Spencer sits up a little, but Jon’s arm around his shoulder prevents him from going too far, and when he glances at Jon, Jon sends him a little look, and he frowns.
“Maybe you need to learn how,” Spencer shoots back instead and Ryan frowns slightly. Spencer feels better and settles back against Jon.
Tom rolls his eyes and sits back in the arm chair, dropping popcorn kernels into the fabric and Spencer will have to vacuum them out later.
“Will you stop dropping food?” he says finally when he can’t take it anymore, and Tom looks up at him, a handful halfway to his mouth.
“You guys should just get a dog,” Tom says instead. “Then you wouldn’t have to vacuum.”
Spencer pauses and doesn’t respond, glancing up at Jon. Dylan’s little shoe box is barely buried in the backyard under the rosebush. He’s not sure getting another pet so soon is a good idea. Jon doesn’t respond to the suggestion, just slides his hand against the back of Spencer’s neck.
Spencer knows Jon is still upset about it, and Spencer can’t say he feels much better. He’s heard Jon, though, talking to Clover and trying to explain to her why Dylan isn’t there anymore. He thinks even Clover has noticed, slinking around more than normal and shying away when people try to pet her.
“Have you guys seen Greta lately?” Spencer asks instead, changing the subject easily. “She’s pretty big for three months.”
“Maybe it’s twins,” Tom says, stuffing the popcorn in his mouth now.
“Can you imagine?” Jon asks with a grin. “Twins would be so hard.”
“They’d be cute,” Spencer offers vaguely, shrugging. “You could give them ridiculous matching names.”
“And they’d hate you forever,” Tom points out, then pauses, watching Spencer for a second. “So you like kids, Spencer?”
Spencer shrugs, not noticing the way Jon is giving Tom a look to shut up. “They’re okay.”
“I don’t see why anyone would ever want kids,” Ryan pipes in finally, looking away from the movie. “They’re messy and loud and annoying, demanding, prissy.”
“So just like you?” Tom asks and Ryan scowls.
“I think some kids can be cute,” Spencer offers. “Sometimes, when they’re not mine.” He smiles and lets Jon twine their fingers together.
“Ugh, you guys are so disgustingly cute,” Tom groans, making a face. “You need to stop it.”
Jon laughs, breath ruffling Spencer’s hair. “We just need to find you someone.”
“Preferably from a women’s prison,” Ryan mutters and Tom punches him again.
*
“Look at this one! It’s adorable!”
Spencer glances over at the onesie Brendon is holding up. He arches an eyebrow at the words splashed across the front and shakes his head.
“That’s kind of gross if you think about it.”
Brendon turns it back around and reads it again. It’s white and reads, Fresh from the oven in brown letters. He pauses.
“Yeah, it kind of is,” he agrees after a second and puts it back.
The store they’re in is filled to the brim with baby things. There are stuffed animals, cribs, shiny, plastic toys, mobiles, clothes. Spencer doesn’t even know what to do with it all. He’s just there to shop for Greta’s baby shower. He picks out a green bunny instead and dumps it into the basket as they weave their way down another aisle.
“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” Brendon asks, picking at more vomit-inducing onesies. Why everything has to be so obnoxiously cute, Spencer doesn’t know.
“I don’t know,” Spencer replies, gazing at the wall of pacifiers.
“What would you want if you had a kid?” Brendon asks, plucking a few off the wall and reading the back of the packages interestedly.
Spencer laughs slightly. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m having one.”
Brendon shrugs, putting the pacifiers back and bouncing over to the cribs. “I should get one of these for Ryan. He’s such a baby.”
Spencer arches an eyebrow, running a hand over the white crib. “I thought everything was okay.”
“He’s so annoying,” Brendon replies. “Every time we go out, he talks about dumb movies and poetry books and how he has these visions for the music industry and turning rap into poetry jams.”
“You like music,” Spencer points out. “And why are you still dating him if he annoys you? It’s been nearly seven months already.”
Brendon smirks, plucking the bunny from the basket and waving its ears at Spencer. “Because once he stops talking, he’s not so annoying anymore.”
Rolling his eyes, Spencer takes the rabbit back. “He said you talk too much.”
“When?” Brendon asks indignantly, following Spencer to the register.
“I don’t know, a while ago. Why don’t you just break up?”
“We did,” Brendon replies simply. “And then we got back together, and then we broke up again. And now… I don’t know. I should call him.”
Spencer doesn’t even bother rolling his eyes as he sets the basket up on the counter and the girl starts ringing up his purchases.
“Hello, did you find everything alright?” she asks cheerfully, scanning the bunny and putting it into a bag.
“Yeah, thanks,” Spencer mutters, pulling out with wallet while Brendon pouts beside him.
“Did he really say that? ‘Cause I don’t talk that much.”
“Bren, let it go,” Spencer says tiredly.
“Are you two adopting?” the girl asks, interrupting the conversation, and Spencer can only stare at her, hand frozen inside his wallet.
Then Brendon laughs and slaps Spencer’s back. Spencer blinks, confused, and frowns slightly.
“Uh, no,” he says slowly and the girl’s eyes widen a little.
“Oh, sorry,” she says quickly, bagging the rest of the items. “It’s just, we get a lot of alternative couples in here.”
“Well, we’re not one,” Spencer says, a little annoyed that she assumed he and Brendon are together.
“Right, sorry,” she says again, taking Spencer’s card and running the bill.
Spencer stands there, confused and a little annoyed, but he manages a polite smile as she hands back his card and thanks him.
Brendon is still laughing as they make it out of the store to the large parking lot, passing by the signs that say, “Stork parking” to his car on the other side.
“I can’t believe she thought we were adopting,” Brendon snorts a little. “Like we’d ever have a kid. You hate kids.”
“I do not,” Spencer argues as they reach the car and he unlocks it, pulling the door open. “And I wouldn’t have a kid with you anyway.”
“Why not?” Brendon asks, hopping in the passenger seat.
Spencer slides in and shuts the door, turning on the car before glancing at Brendon.
“You talk too much.”
At Brendon’s squawk, Spencer smirks and pulls out of the lot.
*
When Spencer gets home, he nearly trips over the little black puppy that greets him at the door. It’s hardly as big as his shoe, but it’s wiggling all over his feet, happy to see him. Rolling his eyes fondly, Spencer steps around him carefully, heading for the couch where Jon is flipping through a camera magazine. Spencer dumps the bags behind the couch and leans around, pressing a kiss to Jon’s jaw.
“Hey,” Jon greets him easily, a smile in his voice. “You’re back.”
“Yeah,” Spencer agrees, rounding the couch and flopping down next to Jon. The puppy follows eagerly, trying to jump up but Spencer doesn’t let him. Only Clover is allowed on the furniture, and only because she doesn’t like the dog and needs somewhere to hide. “Had to get out of there before Brendon bought every ugly baby shirt there is.”
Jon laughs, pulling Spencer to him and kissing his cheek softly. “They can’t all be bad.”
“It’s like a drugged pregnant woman made them all up.”
“I wouldn’t say that at the shower if I were you,” Jon counsels and Spencer sighs, petting the puppy who’s got his front paws up on the couch, stretched as tall as he can go.
Jagger is just barely two months old, and Spencer still can’t believe they have a puppy. It was Jon who brought him home just a week ago, saying something about Vicky’s dog having puppies and being unable to resist. Spencer does admit that Jagger is pretty adorable, especially when he whines in his sleep, little paws twitching.
“The girl at the store thought Brendon and I were a couple,” Spencer says after a second, laughing slightly. “Isn’t that stupid?”
Jon laughs too, his hand carding through Spencer’s hair gently. “What did she think you were doing?”
“Adopting,” Spencer scoffs, shaking his head and laughing. “Can you imagine?”
Jon is quiet for a second, hand still stroking through his hair as they sit on the couch and Jagger finally gives up trying for their attention. Instead, he spots Clover sneaking down the stairs and streaks off after her.
“It’s not that crazy,” Jon says after a second and Spencer shifts, glancing up at him.
Jon just smiles softly, leaning in and kissing Spencer on the lips.
“I guess not,” Spencer agrees and settles back down, listening as Jagger yelps and runs back, a cat scratch now decorating his muzzle.
Part Two -->