'(Backstreet) Boys Will Be Boys' [Ryan Ross/Spencer Smith]
Title: '(Backstreet) Boys Will Be Boys'
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Profanity, the Backstreet Boys...
Pairing: Ryan/Spencer
Word Count: ~3200
Summary: “Okay, um… password, password… I remember we decided it would be something about music, because Ticketmaster is for concerts… and… and it wasn’t Backstreet Boys, because that was too obvious. Spencer, was it 'Cher'?”
Disclaimer: I don't own Panic, etc. etc. The Ticketmaster stuff is actually what comes up on Ticketmaster when you buy tickets, & "BlinkExists" is Ryan's old e-mail address.
Author Notes: You have no idea how much research went into this. Many thanks to Julie for letting me commandeer her computer for half an hour so I could watch the 'Everybody (Backstreet's Back)' video {for half an hour} & copy down all the dance moves.
Oh, and Howie's actually gay - that's why I chose him to say all that stuff at the end.
This fic was inspired by an AIM interview with Spencer Smith, an excerpt from which is here:
AOLMUSIC DUDE: ok. what was the first show that you went to?
SPENCIZZLE: backstreet boys
SPENCIZZLE: I’m not joking
SPENCIZZLE: with Ryan
AOLMUSIC DUDE: that so rules
SPENCIZZLE: when i was like 9
AOLMUSIC DUDE: did you dance dance?
SPENCIZZLE: duh
SPENCIZZLE: We learned all the moves from the ‘Backstreet’s Back’ video.
I fritzed with the ages a bit and made Ryan a freshman in high school, and Spencer an eighth grader, but the premise is the same.
---<---<---<---@
Ryan charged up behind Spencer’s locker and skidded to a stop.
“SPEN-cer!”
There was a metallic clunk as Spencer jolted upwards in surprise and hit his head on the top of the locker, dropping his (600-page) Biology textbook in the process. He knelt to pick it up then backed out of the locker with a wince.
“Fuck, Ryan, what?”
Ryan regarded him balefully. “You forgot, didn’t you?”
Spencer rubbed the back of his head furiously and fixed Ryan with an icy blue glare. “Apparently so. Then again, severe trauma to the head often does cause memory loss.”
Ryan looked contrite. “I’m sorry, Spence,” he began piteously, hitching the straps of his backpack further up over his skinny shoulders, “it’s just, we have to leave now if we want to get home in time.”
He watched Spencer attempting to jam the wayward Bio book into his messenger bag and tried to recall whether he’d ever had a textbook that big in eighth grade. He would’ve felt bad for his friend if there weren’t more pressing issues to attend to.
“In time for what?”
Issues that apparently included slapping Spencer Smith for being so oblivious.
“…Did you really hit your head that hard?” There was a pause that indicated yes. “Um, the Backstreet Boys tickets go on sale in an hour.”
“FUCK!” Spencer yelled, and the luckless textbook tumbled unceremoniously to the ground for the second time in as many minutes. “That’s today? That’s fucking today?! Oh my God, we’re gonna miss the fucking bus, we won’t get front row, we won’t get to see Howie up close, oh my GOD -”
“Spence.”
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck-”
“SPENCER.”
“What?”
“It’s 3:27. If we run we can get outside before the bus leaves.”
Spencer gaped at Ryan, slammed his locker shut, grabbed his friend’s hand and took off in the direction of the car park as fast as his legs could carry him.
--
“Fuck,” Spencer said in hushed tones at exactly 4:30pm, leaning over Ryan’s shoulder and peering at the computer screen.
“Stop saying that,” Ryan said testily, tapping his finger against the side of the desk as he waited for Ticketmaster to search for the best available seating. He had never heard anyone swear as much as Spencer - not even in high school, although he supposed that would change after Spencer graduated from middle school at the end of the year. “Oh my God, this is so slow.”
The page went blank. Then…
We're holding these tickets just for you.
Please complete this page within 2:00 minutes.
After 2:00 minutes, these tickets will be released for others to buy.
“Okay…” Spencer whispered, then held his breath as Ryan scrolled down. “Type: full price. Convenience charge: ten bucks. Row… fuck.”
“Spencer,” Ryan said faintly, sounding this close to passing out. “Is that an A?”
“It’s an A, it’s an A!” Spencer confirmed hysterically, flailing his hands. “Type the damn verification code, Ryan, it’s a fucking A!”
Ryan did so without incident. But then…“Spence, what’s my password? Do you remember my password?”
“Fuck.”
“Spence.”
“Fuck.”
“Okay, um… password, password… I remember we decided it would be something about music, because Ticketmaster is for concerts… and… and it wasn’t Backstreet Boys, because that was too obvious. Spencer, was it 'Cher'?”
“BLINKEXISTS!” Spencer yelled suddenly.
Ryan’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”
Shaking, he typed in the relevant details. It was easier to use Spencer’s address - and Spencer’s mom’s credit card - as she was the one who’d be driving them to the concert and besides, Ryan didn’t know how his dad would react to him wanting to see the Backstreet Boys live. George barely tolerated the fact that Ryan listened to their music, so Ryan didn’t want to push it and risk the confiscation of some of his favorite CDs. Next to his Blink ones, of course. His father wasn’t a completely unreasonable man, but he was less than enamored with the fact that his teenage son was fanboying over boybands - and to be honest, Ryan couldn’t really blame him.
“Okay, okay, so two tickets, row A, to this address. Right?”
“Right. Press confirm.”
Ryan did so.
Thank you for purchasing tickets on Ticketmaster.
Your order number for this purchase is 3-17742/LV1.
Slowly, Spencer and Ryan turned to look at each other.
“Oh my God.” That was Ryan.
“Oh my God.” That was Spencer.
“Row A.” Ryan.
“Row A.” Spencer.
They stared at each other some more and then, with an awed smile on his face, Spencer leaned forward and pulled Ryan into a crushing hug.
“We are going to have so much fun,” he whispered into Ryan’s ear.
Ryan shivered with excitement.
--
“Okay,” Spencer panted, tucking sweaty strands of hair behind his ears. “Let’s do it one more time just to make sure.”
Ryan leaned down and cued the CD player to the middle of track one of the ‘Backstreet’s Back’ album - the part with the dance routine - then hurried to take his place in the middle of Spencer’s living room. There was a crash and a series of drumbeats, and then…
“One, two, three!” Ryan counted.
They jumped to the right and the left in perfect synchronicity, then slid back to the right (for one, two, one, two, three.) As he slid to the left, pointed one leg out in front of the other, flicked his wrists three times and twirled, Ryan bit his lip. The next part was difficult. He and Spencer crouched down, kicked out their right legs, and jumped back up. Ryan grinned. This was the hardest part because Spencer kept falling over, but he seemed to have conquered that with practice - and practice they’d had. They pointed out to the side twice, spun, slid to the right, pointed up to the sky, then sat down on the floor with their legs out in front of them. One, two beats and they shuffled forward twice across the floor, pointed up to the sky again, pumped down, and repeated this sequence three times while kicking up in the air. Finally, as the chorus blared, they shuffled forward, jumped up, parted their legs and - “Backstreet’s back ALRIGHT!” yelled Spencer - slowly brought their hands up in front of them, freezing in place as the closing strains of the song faded out.
Ryan pressed Pause and Spencer collapsed on the floor. “Ry?” he said breathlessly.
“Yeah?”
“Do we have it yet?” Spencer looked like he was about to faint from exertion.
Ryan laughed. “Yeah, I think so. Just one thing. Get up for a second.” Spencer groaned but obliged. “Okay, now, the part at the beginning when we jump - you need to stick your hips out more. Like, to the side. That’ll make you go wider.”
Spencer enacted a weird kind of demi-hop. “Like this?”
Ryan repressed a chuckle. “Um, not exactly. More like…” he jutted his slim hips out to his right, “this.”
“Oh.” Spencer imitated him - or tried to. This time Ryan couldn’t contain his amusement.
“No, dude, you’re not a belly dancer, oh my God.”
Spencer scowled. “Instead of laughing at me, you could tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
“Okay,” Ryan said, giggles subsiding. He moved to stand behind Spencer, and put his hands on the other boy’s hips. “So it’s one, two, one, two, three,” he coached gently, swaying Spencer’s hips to half-time. “Relax, dude, you’re too tense.”
Spencer put his hands on top of Ryan’s and leaned back into him. “So one, two…” he paused, swallowed, and tried to ignore the fluttery feeling he got in his stomach from being in such a compromising position with his best friend. “One, two, three,” he finished weakly.
“You’ve got it,” said Ryan, moving to pull away, but Spencer tightened his grip on Ryan’s hands. “Spence?”
Spencer turned around so he was facing Ryan, still clasping his hands. “Ry… I’m sorry, don’t be mad at me, but I have to do this.”
He leaned in towards Ryan, and he kissed him.
Ryan choked and pulled back. “Spencer?!” he said incredulously, voice half an octave higher than normal.
Spencer flushed red. “Um. Yeah. I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“I…” Ryan was looking everywhere except his friend’s eyes. “I think I should go home now.”
Spencer was too terrified to contradict him.
--
They didn’t speak for the entirety of the week leading up to the concert. In spite of this, they managed to come up with perfectly coordinated outfits - something that would have quietly impressed Ryan if he hadn’t had other things on his mind.
“Hey,” Spencer said stiffly as he opened his front door on the morning of the concert.
Ryan nodded at him, and the two stood staring at each other for a few moments.
“Um,” Ryan said finally, “can I come in?”
Spencer softened visibly. “You’re still…? Of course, sure.”
Ryan grinned. “Come on, dumbass, it’s the Backstreet Boys, of course I’m still coming.”
“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, grinning back and echoing, “the Backstreet Boys.”
“I still can’t believe we’re really going,” Ryan said in a hushed voice. “Row A, Spence, Row A.”
And the last thing Spencer wanted to do was draw attention to their… well, it wasn’t really a fight, more like an awkwardness, but he had a burning question he absolutely needed Ryan to answer. “So have you, uh, been practicing?”
“Every day, dude,” Ryan said with a laugh as they traipsed upstairs - and good, because so had Spencer, crashing around in his room after school with ‘Everybody’ on repeat until his mom yelled at him to turn it off and do his homework. It was never the same without Ryan, though.
“It was weird doing it without you,” Ryan admitted just then, and this, this was why they were best friends. It was also, Spencer acknowledged, part of the reason why the more he’d thought about it over the past week, the more he wanted to go beyond being best friends.
“It was weird doing it without you too,” Spencer responded carefully, unsure of exactly where he stood.
“Listen,” said Ryan as he walked into Spencer’s room and flopped down on the bed. “What happened last week…” Spencer’s mouth went dry. “It’s cool,” Ryan continued. “I know you didn’t mean it. We can just forget about it, okay?”
Spencer felt like a balloon with all the air deflating out of it. He didn’t want to forget about it. In fact, that was the last thing he wanted to do. “Yeah,” he whispered bitterly, managing to direct a numb nod in Ryan’s general direction. “Okay.”
--
Spencer didn’t say much in the car on the way to the city. He let Ryan’s excited chatter wash over him and reminded himself that in a few hours he would be mere feet from the Backstreet Boys. A thrill ran up his spine - he was going to have a great time, drama or no drama, gay or not gay (although he hadn’t even really thought about it in those terms yet, because in his mind liking Ryan didn’t mean liking boys, it just meant liking Ryan.)
“And maybe one of them will even see us doing the dance routine, which would be amazing because we worked so hard and oh my God!” Ryan gushed.
Spencer smiled and made an internal covenant not to do anything to mess this up.
--
Needless to say, Spencer’s consensus with himself to Shut Up And Forget About It did not last long. They got into Las Vegas hopelessly early (of course) and, after promising Spencer’s mom that they’d be careful and not talk to strangers, found themselves alone in a little café having a late lunch. It was then that the treaty Spencer’s mind had made with Spencer’s heart began to fall apart.
“What happened the other day,” Spencer began cautiously, against his better judgment, “with - with us…”
Ryan looked at him guardedly - didn’t say anything, just stared. Spencer almost lost his nerve.
“You - I… you think I didn’t mean it.”
“Yeah…” Ryan said slowly, as if he was talking to a child. “Because you didn’t.”
“But I did.”
Ryan set his smoothie down on the table. “Well, fuck.”
“I’m sorry, Ry,” Spencer said remorsefully, “it’s just, you said you thought I didn’t, and I did, and I do, I really do, but I don’t want this to be -”
“Spencer,” Ryan said quietly. “I know you meant it. I always knew you meant it. I just never thought you’d tell me straight out like that.”
Spencer was shocked. “Then why -”
“Because we can’t. And I’m not saying I don’t want to, it’s just, we can’t. There’s my dad, and school, and what if we broke up? I’d lose my best friend as well as my -” and there Ryan Ross stopped, for he couldn’t even say the word.
It was Spencer’s turn to stare. “You mean you -”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ryan said firmly. “Because it’s not going to happen.”
“But you like me?”
Ryan smiled thinly and refused to comment. Spencer (rightly) took this as a yes.
“So,” Spencer spluttered, “you’re gonna sit there and practically admit you have feelings for me, but you’re not going to do anything about it?!”
“Yes,” Ryan said calmly.
“Why?!?!” Spencer was anything but calm.
“Because, Spence. Because I want it that way.”
--
Howie saw them during ‘Everybody.’ Spencer was sure Howie saw them during ‘Everybody’ because A) they’d both almost passed out and keeled over the guardrail not five feet directly in front of him when the band sang the line “Am I sexual?” and B) they did the dance routine perfectly, except for the part on the floor because the crowd was too encroaching.
“This is our final song for tonight,” Nick announced to the crowd amid a series of disappointed groans. “It’s the latest single from the ‘Millennium’ album - it’s a great song and it’s called ‘I Want It That Way.’” The groans turned to cheers as the opening guitar chords began playing.
You are… my fire.
The one… desire.
Believe… when I say
‘I want it that way.’
Spencer really didn’t want to tear his eyes from the five sweating, muscular pretty-boys in front of him but he had to look at Ryan, had to. This song was just too perfect.
But we… are two worlds apart.
Can't reach to your heart…
When you say…
‘That I want it that way.’
Surprisingly, when he turned to Ryan he found Ryan staring back at him.
Tell me why - ‘Ain't nothin' but a heartache.’
Tell me why - ‘Ain't nothin' but a mistake.’
Tell me why I never wanna hear you say
‘I want it that way.’
Spencer bit his lip, looked right into Ryan’s eyes, and began to mouth along with the lyrics:
Am I… your fire?
Your one… desire?
Yes I know it's too late
But I want it that way.
Ryan didn’t seem to be horribly pissed at him, or embarrassed, or anything, really. He looked sort of numb. So Spencer continued:
Now I can see that we're falling apart
From the way that it used to be, yeah
No matter the distance I want you to know
That deep down inside of me...
You are my fire
The one desire
You are, you are, you are, you are
Don't wanna hear you say
‘Ain't nothin' but a heartache
Ain't nothin' but a mistake’
I never wanna hear you say
‘I want it that way.’
A lone tear trickled down Ryan’s cheek. He reached out and touched Spencer’s left wrist, drawing him closer. “You are, you are, you are, you are,” he murmured over the din of the concert, right into Spencer’s ear.
Spencer opened his mouth to protest. Why he was protesting, he wasn’t quite sure, but he had the vague notion that he should ascertain if Ryan was really certain about this before letting him go any further. And then all of the logic promptly flew out of his head, because Ryan kissed him.
Ryan’s lips were soft and warm and pliable, and before Spencer really knew what was happening their tongues were dueling, his hands were on the small of Ryan’s back pulling him closer, and Ryan was sighing inside his mouth - yes, sighing. His head was spinning and the sound of the song got scooped up into a vacuum, and time stopped, it fucking stopped, it really did. Everything else just… ceased to be, and it was Spencer and Ryan and SpencerandRyan. They had nothing and everything at the same time, and it was liberating. Spencer felt like he could kiss Ryan forever.
“Uh… guys? The show’s over.”
A voice. Distant. Kind of from above. God? Spencer wondered hazily. He raised his hand in a haphazard ‘Just one minute’ gesture, but of course it wouldn’t be because he was going to kiss Ryan for infinity, he’d decided.
“Hey.” And then Spencer felt a touch on his shoulder, felt himself being shaken a little, and pulled away reluctantly. He heard Ryan gasp suddenly but couldn’t see anything except for the blissful stars dancing in front of his eyes.
“Oh my God. You’re like, my hero,” Ryan breathed, gazing in rapture at someone above Spencer and to his right.
Spencer blinked. Who… what? He looked up, and - holy fuck, holy FUCK, it was Howie freaking Dorough with his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer swayed slightly but Ryan quickly grabbed his arm and then smiled reassuringly. It was the gentlest smile Spencer had ever seen.
“Sorry to interrupt,” said Howie, stifling a grin, “but they’re packing up the venue and kinda want people out of here. Not just you - us as well.”
Spencer looked beyond Howie dazedly, and AJ gave him a nod and a wave. “Oh,” he said brilliantly, because God forbid that Howie-the-Backstreet-Boy knew he had the ability to speak more than one syllable. “Um. Oops.”
“No problem,” Howie said easily. “I got everyone to leave you alone for as long as possible,” he gestured to the stage-hands, “but now you really have to jet.”
“O-okay,” Spencer stuttered. Hey, two syllables. Progress indeed.
“Listen,” Howie dropped to his haunches and leaned in conspiratorially, “you and your boyfriend -”
“Ryan,” Ryan supplied, looking just as star-struck as Spencer.
“Ryan,” Howie nodded at him, then turned back to Spencer. “And you would be?”
“Sp-Spencer.”
“Okay, well, Ryan and Spencer… good luck, okay? It won’t be easy - you know, being two guys and all -” Ryan blushed at this. “But,” Howie continued, “if you love each other you’ll make it.” Spencer didn’t want to ask how he knew this, but didn’t doubt that he did. “And you can start by making it home,” Howie finished, breaking into a grin.
Spencer giggled nervously. “I - okay. Th-thank you, Mr… Howie,” he said shakily, giving Howie a handshake (of sorts), then twining his fingers into Ryan’s and bolting out of the arena.
“Did that just happen?” he breathed, leaning against a brick wall.
“I think it did,” Ryan said, looking stunned.
“I think it did too.” Spencer paused. “Are you okay with it?”
Ryan laughed. “What, meeting Howie?” Spencer glared at him. “No, I… I am, I really am. I think we’ll be okay. I think he was right. He’s kind of smart.”
Spencer smiled. “He is.” He traced Ryan’s jaw line with his index finger. “So… you’re sure you’re okay with this?”
“Yeah.” Ryan smiled back. “I want it this way.”
---<---<---<---@
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Profanity, the Backstreet Boys...
Pairing: Ryan/Spencer
Word Count: ~3200
Summary: “Okay, um… password, password… I remember we decided it would be something about music, because Ticketmaster is for concerts… and… and it wasn’t Backstreet Boys, because that was too obvious. Spencer, was it 'Cher'?”
Disclaimer: I don't own Panic, etc. etc. The Ticketmaster stuff is actually what comes up on Ticketmaster when you buy tickets, & "BlinkExists" is Ryan's old e-mail address.
Author Notes: You have no idea how much research went into this. Many thanks to Julie for letting me commandeer her computer for half an hour so I could watch the 'Everybody (Backstreet's Back)' video {for half an hour} & copy down all the dance moves.
Oh, and Howie's actually gay - that's why I chose him to say all that stuff at the end.
This fic was inspired by an AIM interview with Spencer Smith, an excerpt from which is here:
AOLMUSIC DUDE: ok. what was the first show that you went to?
SPENCIZZLE: backstreet boys
SPENCIZZLE: I’m not joking
SPENCIZZLE: with Ryan
AOLMUSIC DUDE: that so rules
SPENCIZZLE: when i was like 9
AOLMUSIC DUDE: did you dance dance?
SPENCIZZLE: duh
SPENCIZZLE: We learned all the moves from the ‘Backstreet’s Back’ video.
I fritzed with the ages a bit and made Ryan a freshman in high school, and Spencer an eighth grader, but the premise is the same.
---<---<---<---@
Ryan charged up behind Spencer’s locker and skidded to a stop.
“SPEN-cer!”
There was a metallic clunk as Spencer jolted upwards in surprise and hit his head on the top of the locker, dropping his (600-page) Biology textbook in the process. He knelt to pick it up then backed out of the locker with a wince.
“Fuck, Ryan, what?”
Ryan regarded him balefully. “You forgot, didn’t you?”
Spencer rubbed the back of his head furiously and fixed Ryan with an icy blue glare. “Apparently so. Then again, severe trauma to the head often does cause memory loss.”
Ryan looked contrite. “I’m sorry, Spence,” he began piteously, hitching the straps of his backpack further up over his skinny shoulders, “it’s just, we have to leave now if we want to get home in time.”
He watched Spencer attempting to jam the wayward Bio book into his messenger bag and tried to recall whether he’d ever had a textbook that big in eighth grade. He would’ve felt bad for his friend if there weren’t more pressing issues to attend to.
“In time for what?”
Issues that apparently included slapping Spencer Smith for being so oblivious.
“…Did you really hit your head that hard?” There was a pause that indicated yes. “Um, the Backstreet Boys tickets go on sale in an hour.”
“FUCK!” Spencer yelled, and the luckless textbook tumbled unceremoniously to the ground for the second time in as many minutes. “That’s today? That’s fucking today?! Oh my God, we’re gonna miss the fucking bus, we won’t get front row, we won’t get to see Howie up close, oh my GOD -”
“Spence.”
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck-”
“SPENCER.”
“What?”
“It’s 3:27. If we run we can get outside before the bus leaves.”
Spencer gaped at Ryan, slammed his locker shut, grabbed his friend’s hand and took off in the direction of the car park as fast as his legs could carry him.
--
“Fuck,” Spencer said in hushed tones at exactly 4:30pm, leaning over Ryan’s shoulder and peering at the computer screen.
“Stop saying that,” Ryan said testily, tapping his finger against the side of the desk as he waited for Ticketmaster to search for the best available seating. He had never heard anyone swear as much as Spencer - not even in high school, although he supposed that would change after Spencer graduated from middle school at the end of the year. “Oh my God, this is so slow.”
The page went blank. Then…
We're holding these tickets just for you.
Please complete this page within 2:00 minutes.
After 2:00 minutes, these tickets will be released for others to buy.
“Okay…” Spencer whispered, then held his breath as Ryan scrolled down. “Type: full price. Convenience charge: ten bucks. Row… fuck.”
“Spencer,” Ryan said faintly, sounding this close to passing out. “Is that an A?”
“It’s an A, it’s an A!” Spencer confirmed hysterically, flailing his hands. “Type the damn verification code, Ryan, it’s a fucking A!”
Ryan did so without incident. But then…“Spence, what’s my password? Do you remember my password?”
“Fuck.”
“Spence.”
“Fuck.”
“Okay, um… password, password… I remember we decided it would be something about music, because Ticketmaster is for concerts… and… and it wasn’t Backstreet Boys, because that was too obvious. Spencer, was it 'Cher'?”
“BLINKEXISTS!” Spencer yelled suddenly.
Ryan’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”
Shaking, he typed in the relevant details. It was easier to use Spencer’s address - and Spencer’s mom’s credit card - as she was the one who’d be driving them to the concert and besides, Ryan didn’t know how his dad would react to him wanting to see the Backstreet Boys live. George barely tolerated the fact that Ryan listened to their music, so Ryan didn’t want to push it and risk the confiscation of some of his favorite CDs. Next to his Blink ones, of course. His father wasn’t a completely unreasonable man, but he was less than enamored with the fact that his teenage son was fanboying over boybands - and to be honest, Ryan couldn’t really blame him.
“Okay, okay, so two tickets, row A, to this address. Right?”
“Right. Press confirm.”
Ryan did so.
Thank you for purchasing tickets on Ticketmaster.
Your order number for this purchase is 3-17742/LV1.
Slowly, Spencer and Ryan turned to look at each other.
“Oh my God.” That was Ryan.
“Oh my God.” That was Spencer.
“Row A.” Ryan.
“Row A.” Spencer.
They stared at each other some more and then, with an awed smile on his face, Spencer leaned forward and pulled Ryan into a crushing hug.
“We are going to have so much fun,” he whispered into Ryan’s ear.
Ryan shivered with excitement.
--
“Okay,” Spencer panted, tucking sweaty strands of hair behind his ears. “Let’s do it one more time just to make sure.”
Ryan leaned down and cued the CD player to the middle of track one of the ‘Backstreet’s Back’ album - the part with the dance routine - then hurried to take his place in the middle of Spencer’s living room. There was a crash and a series of drumbeats, and then…
“One, two, three!” Ryan counted.
They jumped to the right and the left in perfect synchronicity, then slid back to the right (for one, two, one, two, three.) As he slid to the left, pointed one leg out in front of the other, flicked his wrists three times and twirled, Ryan bit his lip. The next part was difficult. He and Spencer crouched down, kicked out their right legs, and jumped back up. Ryan grinned. This was the hardest part because Spencer kept falling over, but he seemed to have conquered that with practice - and practice they’d had. They pointed out to the side twice, spun, slid to the right, pointed up to the sky, then sat down on the floor with their legs out in front of them. One, two beats and they shuffled forward twice across the floor, pointed up to the sky again, pumped down, and repeated this sequence three times while kicking up in the air. Finally, as the chorus blared, they shuffled forward, jumped up, parted their legs and - “Backstreet’s back ALRIGHT!” yelled Spencer - slowly brought their hands up in front of them, freezing in place as the closing strains of the song faded out.
Ryan pressed Pause and Spencer collapsed on the floor. “Ry?” he said breathlessly.
“Yeah?”
“Do we have it yet?” Spencer looked like he was about to faint from exertion.
Ryan laughed. “Yeah, I think so. Just one thing. Get up for a second.” Spencer groaned but obliged. “Okay, now, the part at the beginning when we jump - you need to stick your hips out more. Like, to the side. That’ll make you go wider.”
Spencer enacted a weird kind of demi-hop. “Like this?”
Ryan repressed a chuckle. “Um, not exactly. More like…” he jutted his slim hips out to his right, “this.”
“Oh.” Spencer imitated him - or tried to. This time Ryan couldn’t contain his amusement.
“No, dude, you’re not a belly dancer, oh my God.”
Spencer scowled. “Instead of laughing at me, you could tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
“Okay,” Ryan said, giggles subsiding. He moved to stand behind Spencer, and put his hands on the other boy’s hips. “So it’s one, two, one, two, three,” he coached gently, swaying Spencer’s hips to half-time. “Relax, dude, you’re too tense.”
Spencer put his hands on top of Ryan’s and leaned back into him. “So one, two…” he paused, swallowed, and tried to ignore the fluttery feeling he got in his stomach from being in such a compromising position with his best friend. “One, two, three,” he finished weakly.
“You’ve got it,” said Ryan, moving to pull away, but Spencer tightened his grip on Ryan’s hands. “Spence?”
Spencer turned around so he was facing Ryan, still clasping his hands. “Ry… I’m sorry, don’t be mad at me, but I have to do this.”
He leaned in towards Ryan, and he kissed him.
Ryan choked and pulled back. “Spencer?!” he said incredulously, voice half an octave higher than normal.
Spencer flushed red. “Um. Yeah. I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“I…” Ryan was looking everywhere except his friend’s eyes. “I think I should go home now.”
Spencer was too terrified to contradict him.
--
They didn’t speak for the entirety of the week leading up to the concert. In spite of this, they managed to come up with perfectly coordinated outfits - something that would have quietly impressed Ryan if he hadn’t had other things on his mind.
“Hey,” Spencer said stiffly as he opened his front door on the morning of the concert.
Ryan nodded at him, and the two stood staring at each other for a few moments.
“Um,” Ryan said finally, “can I come in?”
Spencer softened visibly. “You’re still…? Of course, sure.”
Ryan grinned. “Come on, dumbass, it’s the Backstreet Boys, of course I’m still coming.”
“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, grinning back and echoing, “the Backstreet Boys.”
“I still can’t believe we’re really going,” Ryan said in a hushed voice. “Row A, Spence, Row A.”
And the last thing Spencer wanted to do was draw attention to their… well, it wasn’t really a fight, more like an awkwardness, but he had a burning question he absolutely needed Ryan to answer. “So have you, uh, been practicing?”
“Every day, dude,” Ryan said with a laugh as they traipsed upstairs - and good, because so had Spencer, crashing around in his room after school with ‘Everybody’ on repeat until his mom yelled at him to turn it off and do his homework. It was never the same without Ryan, though.
“It was weird doing it without you,” Ryan admitted just then, and this, this was why they were best friends. It was also, Spencer acknowledged, part of the reason why the more he’d thought about it over the past week, the more he wanted to go beyond being best friends.
“It was weird doing it without you too,” Spencer responded carefully, unsure of exactly where he stood.
“Listen,” said Ryan as he walked into Spencer’s room and flopped down on the bed. “What happened last week…” Spencer’s mouth went dry. “It’s cool,” Ryan continued. “I know you didn’t mean it. We can just forget about it, okay?”
Spencer felt like a balloon with all the air deflating out of it. He didn’t want to forget about it. In fact, that was the last thing he wanted to do. “Yeah,” he whispered bitterly, managing to direct a numb nod in Ryan’s general direction. “Okay.”
--
Spencer didn’t say much in the car on the way to the city. He let Ryan’s excited chatter wash over him and reminded himself that in a few hours he would be mere feet from the Backstreet Boys. A thrill ran up his spine - he was going to have a great time, drama or no drama, gay or not gay (although he hadn’t even really thought about it in those terms yet, because in his mind liking Ryan didn’t mean liking boys, it just meant liking Ryan.)
“And maybe one of them will even see us doing the dance routine, which would be amazing because we worked so hard and oh my God!” Ryan gushed.
Spencer smiled and made an internal covenant not to do anything to mess this up.
--
Needless to say, Spencer’s consensus with himself to Shut Up And Forget About It did not last long. They got into Las Vegas hopelessly early (of course) and, after promising Spencer’s mom that they’d be careful and not talk to strangers, found themselves alone in a little café having a late lunch. It was then that the treaty Spencer’s mind had made with Spencer’s heart began to fall apart.
“What happened the other day,” Spencer began cautiously, against his better judgment, “with - with us…”
Ryan looked at him guardedly - didn’t say anything, just stared. Spencer almost lost his nerve.
“You - I… you think I didn’t mean it.”
“Yeah…” Ryan said slowly, as if he was talking to a child. “Because you didn’t.”
“But I did.”
Ryan set his smoothie down on the table. “Well, fuck.”
“I’m sorry, Ry,” Spencer said remorsefully, “it’s just, you said you thought I didn’t, and I did, and I do, I really do, but I don’t want this to be -”
“Spencer,” Ryan said quietly. “I know you meant it. I always knew you meant it. I just never thought you’d tell me straight out like that.”
Spencer was shocked. “Then why -”
“Because we can’t. And I’m not saying I don’t want to, it’s just, we can’t. There’s my dad, and school, and what if we broke up? I’d lose my best friend as well as my -” and there Ryan Ross stopped, for he couldn’t even say the word.
It was Spencer’s turn to stare. “You mean you -”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ryan said firmly. “Because it’s not going to happen.”
“But you like me?”
Ryan smiled thinly and refused to comment. Spencer (rightly) took this as a yes.
“So,” Spencer spluttered, “you’re gonna sit there and practically admit you have feelings for me, but you’re not going to do anything about it?!”
“Yes,” Ryan said calmly.
“Why?!?!” Spencer was anything but calm.
“Because, Spence. Because I want it that way.”
--
Howie saw them during ‘Everybody.’ Spencer was sure Howie saw them during ‘Everybody’ because A) they’d both almost passed out and keeled over the guardrail not five feet directly in front of him when the band sang the line “Am I sexual?” and B) they did the dance routine perfectly, except for the part on the floor because the crowd was too encroaching.
“This is our final song for tonight,” Nick announced to the crowd amid a series of disappointed groans. “It’s the latest single from the ‘Millennium’ album - it’s a great song and it’s called ‘I Want It That Way.’” The groans turned to cheers as the opening guitar chords began playing.
You are… my fire.
The one… desire.
Believe… when I say
‘I want it that way.’
Spencer really didn’t want to tear his eyes from the five sweating, muscular pretty-boys in front of him but he had to look at Ryan, had to. This song was just too perfect.
But we… are two worlds apart.
Can't reach to your heart…
When you say…
‘That I want it that way.’
Surprisingly, when he turned to Ryan he found Ryan staring back at him.
Tell me why - ‘Ain't nothin' but a heartache.’
Tell me why - ‘Ain't nothin' but a mistake.’
Tell me why I never wanna hear you say
‘I want it that way.’
Spencer bit his lip, looked right into Ryan’s eyes, and began to mouth along with the lyrics:
Am I… your fire?
Your one… desire?
Yes I know it's too late
But I want it that way.
Ryan didn’t seem to be horribly pissed at him, or embarrassed, or anything, really. He looked sort of numb. So Spencer continued:
Now I can see that we're falling apart
From the way that it used to be, yeah
No matter the distance I want you to know
That deep down inside of me...
You are my fire
The one desire
You are, you are, you are, you are
Don't wanna hear you say
‘Ain't nothin' but a heartache
Ain't nothin' but a mistake’
I never wanna hear you say
‘I want it that way.’
A lone tear trickled down Ryan’s cheek. He reached out and touched Spencer’s left wrist, drawing him closer. “You are, you are, you are, you are,” he murmured over the din of the concert, right into Spencer’s ear.
Spencer opened his mouth to protest. Why he was protesting, he wasn’t quite sure, but he had the vague notion that he should ascertain if Ryan was really certain about this before letting him go any further. And then all of the logic promptly flew out of his head, because Ryan kissed him.
Ryan’s lips were soft and warm and pliable, and before Spencer really knew what was happening their tongues were dueling, his hands were on the small of Ryan’s back pulling him closer, and Ryan was sighing inside his mouth - yes, sighing. His head was spinning and the sound of the song got scooped up into a vacuum, and time stopped, it fucking stopped, it really did. Everything else just… ceased to be, and it was Spencer and Ryan and SpencerandRyan. They had nothing and everything at the same time, and it was liberating. Spencer felt like he could kiss Ryan forever.
“Uh… guys? The show’s over.”
A voice. Distant. Kind of from above. God? Spencer wondered hazily. He raised his hand in a haphazard ‘Just one minute’ gesture, but of course it wouldn’t be because he was going to kiss Ryan for infinity, he’d decided.
“Hey.” And then Spencer felt a touch on his shoulder, felt himself being shaken a little, and pulled away reluctantly. He heard Ryan gasp suddenly but couldn’t see anything except for the blissful stars dancing in front of his eyes.
“Oh my God. You’re like, my hero,” Ryan breathed, gazing in rapture at someone above Spencer and to his right.
Spencer blinked. Who… what? He looked up, and - holy fuck, holy FUCK, it was Howie freaking Dorough with his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer swayed slightly but Ryan quickly grabbed his arm and then smiled reassuringly. It was the gentlest smile Spencer had ever seen.
“Sorry to interrupt,” said Howie, stifling a grin, “but they’re packing up the venue and kinda want people out of here. Not just you - us as well.”
Spencer looked beyond Howie dazedly, and AJ gave him a nod and a wave. “Oh,” he said brilliantly, because God forbid that Howie-the-Backstreet-Boy knew he had the ability to speak more than one syllable. “Um. Oops.”
“No problem,” Howie said easily. “I got everyone to leave you alone for as long as possible,” he gestured to the stage-hands, “but now you really have to jet.”
“O-okay,” Spencer stuttered. Hey, two syllables. Progress indeed.
“Listen,” Howie dropped to his haunches and leaned in conspiratorially, “you and your boyfriend -”
“Ryan,” Ryan supplied, looking just as star-struck as Spencer.
“Ryan,” Howie nodded at him, then turned back to Spencer. “And you would be?”
“Sp-Spencer.”
“Okay, well, Ryan and Spencer… good luck, okay? It won’t be easy - you know, being two guys and all -” Ryan blushed at this. “But,” Howie continued, “if you love each other you’ll make it.” Spencer didn’t want to ask how he knew this, but didn’t doubt that he did. “And you can start by making it home,” Howie finished, breaking into a grin.
Spencer giggled nervously. “I - okay. Th-thank you, Mr… Howie,” he said shakily, giving Howie a handshake (of sorts), then twining his fingers into Ryan’s and bolting out of the arena.
“Did that just happen?” he breathed, leaning against a brick wall.
“I think it did,” Ryan said, looking stunned.
“I think it did too.” Spencer paused. “Are you okay with it?”
Ryan laughed. “What, meeting Howie?” Spencer glared at him. “No, I… I am, I really am. I think we’ll be okay. I think he was right. He’s kind of smart.”
Spencer smiled. “He is.” He traced Ryan’s jaw line with his index finger. “So… you’re sure you’re okay with this?”
“Yeah.” Ryan smiled back. “I want it this way.”
---<---<---<---@