Kiss Me or The Five Times Jon Tried and the One He Succeeded [joncer pg13 standalone]
Title: Kiss Me or The Five Times Jon Tried and the One He Succeeded
Author: silver_etoile
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/Spencer
POV: Third
Disclaimer: This did not happen.
Summary: Jon just wants to kiss Spencer.
A/N: Written for schmoop_bingo prompt of 'first kiss'. See my card for master posting. Look, I finally wrote one!
*
I.
Jon doesn’t know whose house it is or even who’s throwing the party. He just knows that half the football team is there, the cheerleaders are drunk and falling off pyramids, the student announcers are stoned, and the guy who always hangs around the newsroom with Ryan Ross is hanging back in a corner, arms crossed, and looking distinctly ruffled as people brush past him on their quest for beer.
“Jon!” Someone loud and yet resolutely short hooks Jon’s neck and drags him down, a beer splashing over the front of his shirt. He isn’t surprised when Pete gives him a shake and yells in his ear. “What are you staring at?” Before Jon has a chance to answer, Pete goes on, swishing his beer again. “Look, we got a bet, right? You want in?”
Jon’s had a few drinks already and he can feel them starting to affect him as the music pulses around him. The house is crowded and dark and he doesn’t even bother wondering where the adults are and if they’re ever coming home.
He’s drunk enough that he just grins at Pete. “Sure,” he says easily, and Pete’s grin widens. He gestures with his beer and more slops out onto the floor and his wrist. A few guys wind their way out of the crowd, their grins no less threatening than Pete’s.
“We’ve got a bet,” Pete whispers, although it’s more like a stage whisper, and Jon leans in to hear anyway. “That you won’t go over there right now and plant a big wet one on Spencer Smith… and not get bitchslapped.”
Normally, Jon might be skeptical and even try to back out, but he’s had enough beer and Spencer Smith isn’t exactly ugly. He may be standoffish and always sort of give Jon a frown whenever they pass, but Jon’s not chicken.
“Okay,” he says boldly. “I’ll do it. But you guys owe me so many pancakes if I win.”
Pete crosses his heart, grin still firmly in place, and Jon grabs his beer, or what’s left of it, and starts off toward where Spencer is still standing in his spot by the wall, disapproving eyes on everyone around him.
“Hey,” Jon says when he reaches him, a little too loud, and Spencer’s gaze flickers to him. His arms are still crossed, and if Jon were more sober, he’d see the way Spencer sniffs and then frowns. “You’re Spencer.”
Spencer doesn’t appear to be impressed. “Yeah.”
“You’re kinda hot, you know?”
“And you’re kind of drunk,” Spencer replies flatly, still eyeing Jon.
Jon pauses a second, licking his lip, eyes dropping to Spencer’s mouth for a second, lingering on his pink lips that are pressed together. Spencer’s not ugly.
“Can I kiss you?” Jon asks before he means to because that’s not the bet. He’s close enough that he just could if he leaned in another couple of inches. In fact, before Spencer even answers, he’s already centimeters closer, but before he can sweep in the last inch or two, a hand jerks up and he reels back, a stinging hand imprint on his cheek.
Spencer glares, eyes burning as he shoves Jon back and Jon stumbles a few feet. Jon can already hear Pete and the rest of the guys laughing. Instead of saying anything, Spencer stalks away and pulls Ryan from whoever he was talking to and they disappear soon after.
Jon stares after, hand still pressed to his stinging cheek. A hand slaps his shoulder and Pete appears, grinning like a loon.
“Nice try, dude.”
II.
Spencer hangs around in the newsroom a lot, but Jon can only guess it’s because Ryan is there. He doesn’t really talk to anyone except Ryan, and nowadays, if he looks anywhere, it’s to glare at Jon.
He hasn’t really tried to talk to him since the Party Incident, as he’s been calling it in his head, and in fact, it isn’t as though he’s ever talked to Spencer before that either. He’s just the guy who hangs around the paper and doesn’t do anything. Except look hot in his skinny jeans and unicorn tee shirts that show the pudge on his stomach.
Ryan hasn’t glared at Jon, though, so Jon assumes Spencer must not have told him. He’s not sure if that’s good or bad.
“Jon, can you get me more pens from the supply closet?” Mr. Jones, the overseer of the newspaper is sitting at his desk in the far corner where he usually ignores all of the paper staff and doodles in his grade book. He’s not even there half the time.
Heaving himself up, Jon heads for the supply closet in the back of the room. It’s really just a closet filled with a jumble of pens, paper, and the random school project left there to die.
Rummaging for pens, he turns when he hears the door creak open behind him further.
Spencer Smith is in the doorway, glancing around skeptically as though what he wants won’t be in there. He stops, though, as he catches sight of Jon. He looks blank for a second before immediately scowling.
“Wait,” Jon says as Spencer starts to leave, and Spencer hesitates a second. “I just wanted to, I don’t know, maybe, just… well, I’m sorry.”
It’s not his most eloquent apology but there’s not much he can say aside from, ‘I was drunk and it was a bet’ which he’s not sure that wouldn’t earn him another slap.
Spencer is silent, his expression still disapproving, and Jon realizes he’s never actually talked to Spencer. They’re not in the same grade and they don’t have classes together.
Finally, Spencer jerks his shoulders in a half-acceptance of his words, but he still doesn’t look happy that Jon is standing there, a box of blue pens in his hand.
“I was drunk,” Jon goes on even though Spencer has seemingly accepted it. “And, like, you know, you are hot.”
Spencer still doesn’t look impressed. Jon sighs. This is not going well.
He takes a step forward, not sure what he’s doing, and Spencer stiffens a little. His eyes dart around the dark closet, down to Jon’s pens, up to his face.
Spencer Smith is really a pretty guy. He’s got soft, dark hair that falls down to his chin, bright blue eyes, a rounder face that makes him look younger than he is, and his hips are something any girl would kill for.
Jon doesn’t ask this time, leaning forward, and he can see Spencer almost lean back, and Jon braces himself for the slap, but instead a voice interrupts and Spencer jerks back as if burned.
“Jon!” Mr. Jones is calling from the main room. “You get lost in there?”
Spencer is out of the closet by the time Jon grabs the right color of pens, and when he reaches the newsroom, Spencer is nowhere in sight.
III.
The football game is loud and Jon is grateful for halftime when he can escape to the empty spot beneath the bleachers, avoiding the crowds heading for the bathroom or the food cart. The band is on the field but he doesn’t need pictures of them.
This is his favorite spot in the high school, especially when it’s dark out and there’s no one on the field. He sneaks in through the break in the fence on the far side of the field and no one has ever said a thing.
He’s flipping through his pictures of Guy with Ball as he sits on a large rock that just happens to sit under the bleachers. He can hear the crowd talking and rumbling above him, the band on the field.
“Oh shit.”
A voice startles him and Jon’s head jerks up from his camera. Spencer is moonlighted at the entrance to Jon’s hideaway, which really isn’t so secret to anyone who bothers to look.
“What are you doing here?” Spencer asks, and Jon thinks it’s the most he’s ever heard Spencer say. The way he says it is slightly surprised, slightly accusing, and Jon pauses.
“What are you doing here?” he counters finally when he doesn’t really have an answer.
To his surprise, Spencer sighs loudly and ducks under the bleachers, body disappearing into shadow, and Jon can only see slats of him from the light shining through the bleachers. He comes over to Jon and sinks down on the other side of the rock, pushing back his hair and glancing at the entrance to their little hideaway.
“Trying to get away from Haley,” Spencer says finally which doesn’t tell Jon anything. Jon raises an eyebrow but Spencer doesn’t explain. Instead, Spencer glances at him sideways, still slightly suspicious. “Aren’t you supposed to be out there?” he asks, nodding towards the field.
“Halftime,” Jon explains simply, holding up his camera as some sort of offering. “Don’t need pictures of cheerleaders.”
Spencer scoffs to himself, glancing at the entrance again. There’s no one there except the milling shapes of unknown people.
“Why do you hang around the newsroom?” Jon asks finally because it’s been itching at him for a while now, ever since Spencer slapped him at the party. His cheek had hurt the whole next day and his mom had asked what girl he had pissed off.
Spencer looks at him slowly, shoulders hunching over as he sighs. He shrugs. “I dunno. Ryan’s there.”
“Yeah,” Jon agrees but that doesn’t explain anything. Surely Spencer has friends other than Ryan Ross. He watches Spencer instead of commenting, watching him sweep back his bangs as they fall out from behind his ear, head still occasionally turning to the entrance.
Spencer sighs at the floor, closing his eyes for a second, and Jon can’t help watching him. He blames Pete, really. He’d never really looked at Spencer before, but now he can’t seem to stop.
Spencer’s hand moves to tuck his hair back again but Jon is faster, fingers brushing past his ear, and he can feel Spencer freeze. He doesn’t take his fingers away, though, gliding down his chin and tipping his face up.
“I kinda did want to kiss you at that party,” Jon admits after a second, watching Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. “And I really did in the closet.”
His fingers are on his chin and Spencer isn’t moving, hair falling in his eyes again. He doesn’t try to push it back this time.
When Jon leans in this time, he can feel Spencer’s breath, warm, feathered, and quickened against his chin. He guides Spencer’s mouth up slowly, giving him ample time to jerk away or slap him but Spencer doesn’t move.
“Spencer?”
Spencer flinches away from Jon at the girl’s voice. “Shit! I’m not here,” he hisses, scrambling away and heading deeper under the bleachers. The girl searches the darkness for a second then leaves finally into the rest of the crowd.
VI.
After the game, Jon hangs with Pete on the field, waiting for the parking lot to empty, the kids to go off to the parties, although they’d lost this week so Jon doubts it’ll be any good. He can’t go this time since the last time he came home with a slap mark on his face and his mother doesn’t think it’s a good idea for him to get another.
Pete stays just long enough for the cheerleaders to come out of the changing room before saluting Jon once and taking after the girls.
When Jon’s sure the parking lot is empty, he heads out. There are still a few cars but it’s pretty much deserted. Spots of yellow light dot the lot as he heads for his car in the far corner. He kicks a rock as he goes, wondering what time it is and if he should bother looking at the photographs when he gets home.
As he reaches his car, he looks up from the rock as it rolls against one of his wheels and there’s a foot propped against it. Surprised, he looks up to find Spencer leaned against his car, arms crossed of his chest and a foot against his wheel well.
“Uh…” he says, confused, and Spencer pushes himself off the wheel.
“Hey,” he says, slightly awkward, which yeah. They’re not even really friends and Jon isn’t sure how Spencer even knew which car was his. “I was avoiding Haley and Ryan kind of left without me.”
Jon doesn’t know what to say. It’s chilly out and Spencer doesn’t have a jacket, and he’s rubbing his arms a little as he sighs.
“Do you think I could get a ride home?” Spencer asks finally, expression apprehensive as Jon just stares.
“Sure, yeah, sure,” Jon says finally, snapping out of his surprise at finding Spencer there. “Where do you live?”
“Off of Pike,” Spencer replies as Jon digs for his keys and unlocks the car.
Spencer pulls open the passenger door and slides inside, dumping Jon’s schoolbag in the backseat as Jon climbs in the driver’s side.
It’s an awkward silence as Jon starts the car and circles the lot to the exit. Spencer is staring at his hands in his lap.
“Sorry for…” Spencer starts then stops. “I mean, I didn’t mean to get stuck. I would’ve asked someone else but they’d all left.”
“It’s okay,” Jon assures him, turning left and settling back in his seat. “Why didn’t Ryan wait? Isn’t he your best friend?”
Spencer shrugs a little. “He’s a good friend. Not my best friend.”
Jon wants to ask why then does Spencer hang around the newspaper office so much, but he doesn’t.
“So who’s Haley, then?” Jon asks as they take more turns towards Spencer’s house. It’s not that far from Jon’s.
Spencer rests his head against the cool window pane and sighs. “Just this girl who is convinced she loves me. I can’t get rid of her. It’s so annoying.”
Jon laughs and Spencer glances at him. “It’s kinda cute.”
“No, it’s horrible,” Spencer corrects him sharply, sighing against the window that fogs up in return. Jon reaches for the heater, turning it up, and wondering why Spencer didn’t bring a jacket to a football game in the middle of November.
Jon still smiles as they near Spencer’s house. He glances at Spencer’s profile a few times, head pressed against the window and eyes closed as they pull into the housing development and flash past the orange streetlights.
“It’s right up here,” Spencer says finally, pointing at an identical house on the corner. Jon pulls up, glancing in at the house. All the lights are off except the porch light and the garage is closed.
Jon doesn’t turn off the car as he pulls to a stop at the curb and Spencer unbuckles his seatbelt.
He turns to Jon as if he’s going to say something and seems to hesitate.
The orange streetlights are flooding the car and it’s a brash light that makes Spencer’s skin orange as he pauses. Spencer has his hand on the door handle, half pushed down, and Jon thinks it’s his turn.
“You know earlier,” he says slowly, and Spencer doesn’t nod, but he bites his bottom lip, eyes meeting Jon’s for a second.
Jon is halfway in, sure this time it’s going to work, and his eyes are closing, but Spencer pulls back at the last second, smiling softly as he opens the door and pushes it open.
“Thanks for the ride,” he murmurs, stepping out, Jon still leaned half over in his seat. Spencer shoots him a small smile as he shuts the door and heads up the front walk.
Letting out a breath, Jon sits back and watches Spencer unlock the front door and disappear inside.
V.
The thing Jon hates the most about working on the newspaper is those rare Saturday workdays. What’s even worse (which he didn’t even realize until about two weeks ago) is that Spencer doesn’t usually come in on Saturdays to hang around and do nothing.
It’s just Ryan sitting at his little makeshift desk.
Jon is bored to death by the time it hits noon and the editor finally decides they can leave. Who cares if it’s the seventy-fifth anniversary edition? In a year or two, no one will even remember.
Jon stops himself from swinging by Ryan’s desk to ask if he knows where Spencer is because he’s really not that desperate. He can see Spencer on Monday and ask him why he’d ducked out in the car, not that he’d going to because he’s really not that desperate.
The newsroom empties quickly once the editor dismisses them and Jon heads to his car. Ryan is already long gone by the time he gets to his desk so it was a useless idea anyway.
Most people are gone when he gets to the parking lot, and he shoves his notebook in his bag as he heads for his car. It takes him a minute to realize that there’s someone leaning up against his passenger side when he gets closer. It takes him less time than that to recognize the cock of Spencer’s hip, the shape his arms make when he crosses them, and the tilt to his head. It isn’t a frown on his face, though, when Jon finally gets there, more of a slight smirk.
“You lose Ryan again?” Jon asks, trying not to act surprised, and Spencer tilts his head more, smirk small but still there.
“No,” he replies simply. “Actually, I was waiting for you.”
“Really?” Jon can’t help feeling skeptical. This is the guy, after all, that he’s tried to kiss four times already and been thwarted each time, and now Spencer is here waiting for him.
Spencer shrugs a little, smirk disappearing the longer they stand there. “Yeah.” He looks a little nervous, like he’s rethinking whatever it is. He tucks his hair back, and maybe it’s a nervous tick.
Jon is trying to think quickly, but he’s distracted by Spencer chewing on his bottom lip, still leaning against his car, and he’s wearing the skinny black jeans that Jon has never paid enough attention to before.
“You know you’re a tease, right?” Jon says and he curses his mouth for moving faster than his brain, especially when Spencer’s expression flickers into a frown. “I mean, it’s been more than two weeks since I tried to kiss you, and there have been multiple opportunities since then, but you just won’t let me.”
He’s thinking that he’s probably scared Spencer away for good this time, which is really a shame considering Spencer is kind of funny and definitely hot. He can see the way Spencer is breathing, faster than normal, looking like a cornered rabbit, but he tips his chin up defiantly and meets Jon’s eyes.
“So try,” he says, almost calmly, and Jon decides he’s going to call Spencer’s bluff once and for all, and steps forward.
Spencer doesn’t move, even when Jon slows down, places his hands on either side of Spencer, pressed against the car. He feels Spencer’s breath and moves before he thinks.
Spencer’s lips are soft, lightly parted, and Spencer isn’t frozen or stiff, just lets Jon press his mouth against his, slow and easy. Jon lets his eyes close slowly as he kisses Spencer, feels him respond, the tremble when Jon pulls a hand from the car to glide down his arm.
Pulling back, Jon smiles slowly at Spencer.
“How come you wouldn’t let me do that at the party?”
“You were drunk.”
Jon pauses. “Did you want to? Then?”
To his surprise and amusement, Spencer’s cheeks go pink and he bites his lip again.
“No,” he says, but Jon grins.
“Yes,” he corrects him, and Spencer frowns but doesn’t push Jon from where he’s still boxing him in against the car.
“Well, you were drunk and it was a bet.” He pauses and goes on at Jon’s look of surprise. “I heard Pete. He’s not exactly quiet.”
“Then why’d you slap me?” Jon asks, unable to find an excuse for that.
“Because that wasn’t how I wanted our first kiss,” Spencer explains, his cheeks flushing pink again.
“No?” Jon murmurs, already leaning in again, and he’s pleased when he neither gets slapped nor Spencer runs away.
Jon likes Spencer’s mouth, he decides, as he slides his tongue out this time, licking Spencer’s bottom lip slowly, finding his way to his parted lips and dipping inside.
There’s no one around and it’s a slow, steady kiss that almost makes Jon lightheaded despite the shortness of it.
“Ryan’s not why you hang around the newsroom, is he?” Jon asks when he pulls away and Spencer takes a breath, tucking his hair back again nervously.
“Well, he’s there,” Spencer allows, and Jon grins again.
“If I ask you out will you slap me?” he asks and Spencer bites his bottom lip for a second.
“This better not be another bet.”
“Only that I can make our next kiss better than our first,” Jon promises, and Spencer’s smile is all the response he needs as he leans in again.
*
FIN.
Author: silver_etoile
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/Spencer
POV: Third
Disclaimer: This did not happen.
Summary: Jon just wants to kiss Spencer.
A/N: Written for schmoop_bingo prompt of 'first kiss'. See my card for master posting. Look, I finally wrote one!
*
I.
Jon doesn’t know whose house it is or even who’s throwing the party. He just knows that half the football team is there, the cheerleaders are drunk and falling off pyramids, the student announcers are stoned, and the guy who always hangs around the newsroom with Ryan Ross is hanging back in a corner, arms crossed, and looking distinctly ruffled as people brush past him on their quest for beer.
“Jon!” Someone loud and yet resolutely short hooks Jon’s neck and drags him down, a beer splashing over the front of his shirt. He isn’t surprised when Pete gives him a shake and yells in his ear. “What are you staring at?” Before Jon has a chance to answer, Pete goes on, swishing his beer again. “Look, we got a bet, right? You want in?”
Jon’s had a few drinks already and he can feel them starting to affect him as the music pulses around him. The house is crowded and dark and he doesn’t even bother wondering where the adults are and if they’re ever coming home.
He’s drunk enough that he just grins at Pete. “Sure,” he says easily, and Pete’s grin widens. He gestures with his beer and more slops out onto the floor and his wrist. A few guys wind their way out of the crowd, their grins no less threatening than Pete’s.
“We’ve got a bet,” Pete whispers, although it’s more like a stage whisper, and Jon leans in to hear anyway. “That you won’t go over there right now and plant a big wet one on Spencer Smith… and not get bitchslapped.”
Normally, Jon might be skeptical and even try to back out, but he’s had enough beer and Spencer Smith isn’t exactly ugly. He may be standoffish and always sort of give Jon a frown whenever they pass, but Jon’s not chicken.
“Okay,” he says boldly. “I’ll do it. But you guys owe me so many pancakes if I win.”
Pete crosses his heart, grin still firmly in place, and Jon grabs his beer, or what’s left of it, and starts off toward where Spencer is still standing in his spot by the wall, disapproving eyes on everyone around him.
“Hey,” Jon says when he reaches him, a little too loud, and Spencer’s gaze flickers to him. His arms are still crossed, and if Jon were more sober, he’d see the way Spencer sniffs and then frowns. “You’re Spencer.”
Spencer doesn’t appear to be impressed. “Yeah.”
“You’re kinda hot, you know?”
“And you’re kind of drunk,” Spencer replies flatly, still eyeing Jon.
Jon pauses a second, licking his lip, eyes dropping to Spencer’s mouth for a second, lingering on his pink lips that are pressed together. Spencer’s not ugly.
“Can I kiss you?” Jon asks before he means to because that’s not the bet. He’s close enough that he just could if he leaned in another couple of inches. In fact, before Spencer even answers, he’s already centimeters closer, but before he can sweep in the last inch or two, a hand jerks up and he reels back, a stinging hand imprint on his cheek.
Spencer glares, eyes burning as he shoves Jon back and Jon stumbles a few feet. Jon can already hear Pete and the rest of the guys laughing. Instead of saying anything, Spencer stalks away and pulls Ryan from whoever he was talking to and they disappear soon after.
Jon stares after, hand still pressed to his stinging cheek. A hand slaps his shoulder and Pete appears, grinning like a loon.
“Nice try, dude.”
II.
Spencer hangs around in the newsroom a lot, but Jon can only guess it’s because Ryan is there. He doesn’t really talk to anyone except Ryan, and nowadays, if he looks anywhere, it’s to glare at Jon.
He hasn’t really tried to talk to him since the Party Incident, as he’s been calling it in his head, and in fact, it isn’t as though he’s ever talked to Spencer before that either. He’s just the guy who hangs around the paper and doesn’t do anything. Except look hot in his skinny jeans and unicorn tee shirts that show the pudge on his stomach.
Ryan hasn’t glared at Jon, though, so Jon assumes Spencer must not have told him. He’s not sure if that’s good or bad.
“Jon, can you get me more pens from the supply closet?” Mr. Jones, the overseer of the newspaper is sitting at his desk in the far corner where he usually ignores all of the paper staff and doodles in his grade book. He’s not even there half the time.
Heaving himself up, Jon heads for the supply closet in the back of the room. It’s really just a closet filled with a jumble of pens, paper, and the random school project left there to die.
Rummaging for pens, he turns when he hears the door creak open behind him further.
Spencer Smith is in the doorway, glancing around skeptically as though what he wants won’t be in there. He stops, though, as he catches sight of Jon. He looks blank for a second before immediately scowling.
“Wait,” Jon says as Spencer starts to leave, and Spencer hesitates a second. “I just wanted to, I don’t know, maybe, just… well, I’m sorry.”
It’s not his most eloquent apology but there’s not much he can say aside from, ‘I was drunk and it was a bet’ which he’s not sure that wouldn’t earn him another slap.
Spencer is silent, his expression still disapproving, and Jon realizes he’s never actually talked to Spencer. They’re not in the same grade and they don’t have classes together.
Finally, Spencer jerks his shoulders in a half-acceptance of his words, but he still doesn’t look happy that Jon is standing there, a box of blue pens in his hand.
“I was drunk,” Jon goes on even though Spencer has seemingly accepted it. “And, like, you know, you are hot.”
Spencer still doesn’t look impressed. Jon sighs. This is not going well.
He takes a step forward, not sure what he’s doing, and Spencer stiffens a little. His eyes dart around the dark closet, down to Jon’s pens, up to his face.
Spencer Smith is really a pretty guy. He’s got soft, dark hair that falls down to his chin, bright blue eyes, a rounder face that makes him look younger than he is, and his hips are something any girl would kill for.
Jon doesn’t ask this time, leaning forward, and he can see Spencer almost lean back, and Jon braces himself for the slap, but instead a voice interrupts and Spencer jerks back as if burned.
“Jon!” Mr. Jones is calling from the main room. “You get lost in there?”
Spencer is out of the closet by the time Jon grabs the right color of pens, and when he reaches the newsroom, Spencer is nowhere in sight.
III.
The football game is loud and Jon is grateful for halftime when he can escape to the empty spot beneath the bleachers, avoiding the crowds heading for the bathroom or the food cart. The band is on the field but he doesn’t need pictures of them.
This is his favorite spot in the high school, especially when it’s dark out and there’s no one on the field. He sneaks in through the break in the fence on the far side of the field and no one has ever said a thing.
He’s flipping through his pictures of Guy with Ball as he sits on a large rock that just happens to sit under the bleachers. He can hear the crowd talking and rumbling above him, the band on the field.
“Oh shit.”
A voice startles him and Jon’s head jerks up from his camera. Spencer is moonlighted at the entrance to Jon’s hideaway, which really isn’t so secret to anyone who bothers to look.
“What are you doing here?” Spencer asks, and Jon thinks it’s the most he’s ever heard Spencer say. The way he says it is slightly surprised, slightly accusing, and Jon pauses.
“What are you doing here?” he counters finally when he doesn’t really have an answer.
To his surprise, Spencer sighs loudly and ducks under the bleachers, body disappearing into shadow, and Jon can only see slats of him from the light shining through the bleachers. He comes over to Jon and sinks down on the other side of the rock, pushing back his hair and glancing at the entrance to their little hideaway.
“Trying to get away from Haley,” Spencer says finally which doesn’t tell Jon anything. Jon raises an eyebrow but Spencer doesn’t explain. Instead, Spencer glances at him sideways, still slightly suspicious. “Aren’t you supposed to be out there?” he asks, nodding towards the field.
“Halftime,” Jon explains simply, holding up his camera as some sort of offering. “Don’t need pictures of cheerleaders.”
Spencer scoffs to himself, glancing at the entrance again. There’s no one there except the milling shapes of unknown people.
“Why do you hang around the newsroom?” Jon asks finally because it’s been itching at him for a while now, ever since Spencer slapped him at the party. His cheek had hurt the whole next day and his mom had asked what girl he had pissed off.
Spencer looks at him slowly, shoulders hunching over as he sighs. He shrugs. “I dunno. Ryan’s there.”
“Yeah,” Jon agrees but that doesn’t explain anything. Surely Spencer has friends other than Ryan Ross. He watches Spencer instead of commenting, watching him sweep back his bangs as they fall out from behind his ear, head still occasionally turning to the entrance.
Spencer sighs at the floor, closing his eyes for a second, and Jon can’t help watching him. He blames Pete, really. He’d never really looked at Spencer before, but now he can’t seem to stop.
Spencer’s hand moves to tuck his hair back again but Jon is faster, fingers brushing past his ear, and he can feel Spencer freeze. He doesn’t take his fingers away, though, gliding down his chin and tipping his face up.
“I kinda did want to kiss you at that party,” Jon admits after a second, watching Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. “And I really did in the closet.”
His fingers are on his chin and Spencer isn’t moving, hair falling in his eyes again. He doesn’t try to push it back this time.
When Jon leans in this time, he can feel Spencer’s breath, warm, feathered, and quickened against his chin. He guides Spencer’s mouth up slowly, giving him ample time to jerk away or slap him but Spencer doesn’t move.
“Spencer?”
Spencer flinches away from Jon at the girl’s voice. “Shit! I’m not here,” he hisses, scrambling away and heading deeper under the bleachers. The girl searches the darkness for a second then leaves finally into the rest of the crowd.
VI.
After the game, Jon hangs with Pete on the field, waiting for the parking lot to empty, the kids to go off to the parties, although they’d lost this week so Jon doubts it’ll be any good. He can’t go this time since the last time he came home with a slap mark on his face and his mother doesn’t think it’s a good idea for him to get another.
Pete stays just long enough for the cheerleaders to come out of the changing room before saluting Jon once and taking after the girls.
When Jon’s sure the parking lot is empty, he heads out. There are still a few cars but it’s pretty much deserted. Spots of yellow light dot the lot as he heads for his car in the far corner. He kicks a rock as he goes, wondering what time it is and if he should bother looking at the photographs when he gets home.
As he reaches his car, he looks up from the rock as it rolls against one of his wheels and there’s a foot propped against it. Surprised, he looks up to find Spencer leaned against his car, arms crossed of his chest and a foot against his wheel well.
“Uh…” he says, confused, and Spencer pushes himself off the wheel.
“Hey,” he says, slightly awkward, which yeah. They’re not even really friends and Jon isn’t sure how Spencer even knew which car was his. “I was avoiding Haley and Ryan kind of left without me.”
Jon doesn’t know what to say. It’s chilly out and Spencer doesn’t have a jacket, and he’s rubbing his arms a little as he sighs.
“Do you think I could get a ride home?” Spencer asks finally, expression apprehensive as Jon just stares.
“Sure, yeah, sure,” Jon says finally, snapping out of his surprise at finding Spencer there. “Where do you live?”
“Off of Pike,” Spencer replies as Jon digs for his keys and unlocks the car.
Spencer pulls open the passenger door and slides inside, dumping Jon’s schoolbag in the backseat as Jon climbs in the driver’s side.
It’s an awkward silence as Jon starts the car and circles the lot to the exit. Spencer is staring at his hands in his lap.
“Sorry for…” Spencer starts then stops. “I mean, I didn’t mean to get stuck. I would’ve asked someone else but they’d all left.”
“It’s okay,” Jon assures him, turning left and settling back in his seat. “Why didn’t Ryan wait? Isn’t he your best friend?”
Spencer shrugs a little. “He’s a good friend. Not my best friend.”
Jon wants to ask why then does Spencer hang around the newspaper office so much, but he doesn’t.
“So who’s Haley, then?” Jon asks as they take more turns towards Spencer’s house. It’s not that far from Jon’s.
Spencer rests his head against the cool window pane and sighs. “Just this girl who is convinced she loves me. I can’t get rid of her. It’s so annoying.”
Jon laughs and Spencer glances at him. “It’s kinda cute.”
“No, it’s horrible,” Spencer corrects him sharply, sighing against the window that fogs up in return. Jon reaches for the heater, turning it up, and wondering why Spencer didn’t bring a jacket to a football game in the middle of November.
Jon still smiles as they near Spencer’s house. He glances at Spencer’s profile a few times, head pressed against the window and eyes closed as they pull into the housing development and flash past the orange streetlights.
“It’s right up here,” Spencer says finally, pointing at an identical house on the corner. Jon pulls up, glancing in at the house. All the lights are off except the porch light and the garage is closed.
Jon doesn’t turn off the car as he pulls to a stop at the curb and Spencer unbuckles his seatbelt.
He turns to Jon as if he’s going to say something and seems to hesitate.
The orange streetlights are flooding the car and it’s a brash light that makes Spencer’s skin orange as he pauses. Spencer has his hand on the door handle, half pushed down, and Jon thinks it’s his turn.
“You know earlier,” he says slowly, and Spencer doesn’t nod, but he bites his bottom lip, eyes meeting Jon’s for a second.
Jon is halfway in, sure this time it’s going to work, and his eyes are closing, but Spencer pulls back at the last second, smiling softly as he opens the door and pushes it open.
“Thanks for the ride,” he murmurs, stepping out, Jon still leaned half over in his seat. Spencer shoots him a small smile as he shuts the door and heads up the front walk.
Letting out a breath, Jon sits back and watches Spencer unlock the front door and disappear inside.
V.
The thing Jon hates the most about working on the newspaper is those rare Saturday workdays. What’s even worse (which he didn’t even realize until about two weeks ago) is that Spencer doesn’t usually come in on Saturdays to hang around and do nothing.
It’s just Ryan sitting at his little makeshift desk.
Jon is bored to death by the time it hits noon and the editor finally decides they can leave. Who cares if it’s the seventy-fifth anniversary edition? In a year or two, no one will even remember.
Jon stops himself from swinging by Ryan’s desk to ask if he knows where Spencer is because he’s really not that desperate. He can see Spencer on Monday and ask him why he’d ducked out in the car, not that he’d going to because he’s really not that desperate.
The newsroom empties quickly once the editor dismisses them and Jon heads to his car. Ryan is already long gone by the time he gets to his desk so it was a useless idea anyway.
Most people are gone when he gets to the parking lot, and he shoves his notebook in his bag as he heads for his car. It takes him a minute to realize that there’s someone leaning up against his passenger side when he gets closer. It takes him less time than that to recognize the cock of Spencer’s hip, the shape his arms make when he crosses them, and the tilt to his head. It isn’t a frown on his face, though, when Jon finally gets there, more of a slight smirk.
“You lose Ryan again?” Jon asks, trying not to act surprised, and Spencer tilts his head more, smirk small but still there.
“No,” he replies simply. “Actually, I was waiting for you.”
“Really?” Jon can’t help feeling skeptical. This is the guy, after all, that he’s tried to kiss four times already and been thwarted each time, and now Spencer is here waiting for him.
Spencer shrugs a little, smirk disappearing the longer they stand there. “Yeah.” He looks a little nervous, like he’s rethinking whatever it is. He tucks his hair back, and maybe it’s a nervous tick.
Jon is trying to think quickly, but he’s distracted by Spencer chewing on his bottom lip, still leaning against his car, and he’s wearing the skinny black jeans that Jon has never paid enough attention to before.
“You know you’re a tease, right?” Jon says and he curses his mouth for moving faster than his brain, especially when Spencer’s expression flickers into a frown. “I mean, it’s been more than two weeks since I tried to kiss you, and there have been multiple opportunities since then, but you just won’t let me.”
He’s thinking that he’s probably scared Spencer away for good this time, which is really a shame considering Spencer is kind of funny and definitely hot. He can see the way Spencer is breathing, faster than normal, looking like a cornered rabbit, but he tips his chin up defiantly and meets Jon’s eyes.
“So try,” he says, almost calmly, and Jon decides he’s going to call Spencer’s bluff once and for all, and steps forward.
Spencer doesn’t move, even when Jon slows down, places his hands on either side of Spencer, pressed against the car. He feels Spencer’s breath and moves before he thinks.
Spencer’s lips are soft, lightly parted, and Spencer isn’t frozen or stiff, just lets Jon press his mouth against his, slow and easy. Jon lets his eyes close slowly as he kisses Spencer, feels him respond, the tremble when Jon pulls a hand from the car to glide down his arm.
Pulling back, Jon smiles slowly at Spencer.
“How come you wouldn’t let me do that at the party?”
“You were drunk.”
Jon pauses. “Did you want to? Then?”
To his surprise and amusement, Spencer’s cheeks go pink and he bites his lip again.
“No,” he says, but Jon grins.
“Yes,” he corrects him, and Spencer frowns but doesn’t push Jon from where he’s still boxing him in against the car.
“Well, you were drunk and it was a bet.” He pauses and goes on at Jon’s look of surprise. “I heard Pete. He’s not exactly quiet.”
“Then why’d you slap me?” Jon asks, unable to find an excuse for that.
“Because that wasn’t how I wanted our first kiss,” Spencer explains, his cheeks flushing pink again.
“No?” Jon murmurs, already leaning in again, and he’s pleased when he neither gets slapped nor Spencer runs away.
Jon likes Spencer’s mouth, he decides, as he slides his tongue out this time, licking Spencer’s bottom lip slowly, finding his way to his parted lips and dipping inside.
There’s no one around and it’s a slow, steady kiss that almost makes Jon lightheaded despite the shortness of it.
“Ryan’s not why you hang around the newsroom, is he?” Jon asks when he pulls away and Spencer takes a breath, tucking his hair back again nervously.
“Well, he’s there,” Spencer allows, and Jon grins again.
“If I ask you out will you slap me?” he asks and Spencer bites his bottom lip for a second.
“This better not be another bet.”
“Only that I can make our next kiss better than our first,” Jon promises, and Spencer’s smile is all the response he needs as he leans in again.
*
FIN.