A Most Brilliant Dance, Coda 1/2
Coda. NC-17, for people who felt cheated out of The Sex.
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Up in their room, Ryan slumps tiredly in a chair with his eyes closed while Spencer washes his face with the basin of water provided and changes into his nightshirt (not hiding, but glancing nervously over his shoulder to make sure Ryan isn’t peeking). When he turns around, Ryan hasn’t moved from the chair, is still sitting there in his boots and wedding clothes, jacket slung haphazardly over the back. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing evenly and Spencer draws closer warily; he doesn’t think Ryan’s asleep, but he’s not quite sure how to react.
Ryan answers his unvoiced question by mumbling, voice rough with tiredness, “Hi.” Spencer grins at him even though Ryan can’t see and sits down on the floor beside him, works on unlacing and tugging off his boots. Ryan puts his hand down and pets absently at Spencer’s hair and Spencer leans into the touch without thinking, and suddenly Ryan’s eyes are open and they are staring at each other. Spencer feels his heart race, wonders if this is normal, to feel his skin itching, unsure and nervous but also wanting so much, just from kneeling beside Ryan’s feet, just from looking up at Ryan’s big, dark eyes.
He leans forward slightly and rests his cheek against Ryan’s knee, breathes out so that the warm gust of air breezes along Ryan’s thigh. Ryan shudders visibly and then pushes himself forward and out of the chair, lands on his knees next to Spencer and curves his hand around Spencer’s cheek.
“This is unorthodox of me,” he whispers, “but what if we… Tomorrow night, maybe. When we’re not tired and it can be.” He pauses and then says, slowly, “You’ve never. Before, you’ve never-”
“No,” Spencer says.
“Let me be better for you,” Ryan says, pushing the hair out of Spencer’s eyes and looking at him intently. “I’m so tired, Spence. You don’t want me now, I’ll be dreadfully incompetent.”
Spencer swallows hard, because he’s glad, he’s tired too and still a little sick with worry. Ryan has had Pete, and Pete gives off an air of cocky confidence and self-assurance, and Ryan is beautiful and moves with a slow, luxurious grace and also kisses very, very well. Spencer feels very small and unworthy in comparison but he doesn’t want to agree too readily, and he feels like he owes Ryan some truths, after all this time. He says, “I always want you.”
Ryan leans forward and kisses him, sucking Spencer’s bottom lip into his mouth, and then he breaks away and gets up and pulls off his clothes until he’s standing in his undergarments. He smiles at Spencer and says, “Bedtime.”
They crawl under the covers and curl up close to each other. Ryan has a surprisingly tenacious grip and he hangs on tight, and they trade kisses carefully, warm and sweet under the covers. Spencer has shared a bed for years and he thinks it shouldn’t be so incredibly, unbelievably different all of a sudden, but he is warmly conscious of every place where they are touching, their bare legs tangled together, Ryan’s hand cupping his elbow. Eventually their mouths are barely touching, open and moving just slightly, and Spencer doesn’t know who falls asleep first.
--
He wakes up in the morning curled on his side, his back to Ryan, and for a second he thinks Ryan’s gone, can’t feel him anyway. Then he rolls over and Ryan’s still there, but he’s lying as far away from Spencer as possible, propped up on one elbow, watching him. His eyes are as big and dark as they were last night but there’s this vaguely terrified look in them, and he jolts slightly when Spencer looks at him, throat working as he swallows hard.
Spencer is not sure what to do for a moment. For a moment, Ryan is as baffling as he was when he spilt the wine on the floor, when he asked Spencer to dance, when he charged out of the pouring rain and said words Spencer couldn’t quite comprehend in a voice that cracked. Then Ryan shifts his head, makes to roll away and Spencer thinks no, thinks I know you better now, thinks I could never hate you ever again and you’re not allowed to turn away from me.
He moves fast without thinking and rolls right over Ryan, knocking all the breath out of him and sprawling across Ryan, pushing him down until he’s lying on his back, nudging him back over into the middle of the bed. When he’s finished manhandling Ryan he just stays there, solid and warm.
He says, “I’m here. Hey, Ryan. I’m here,” and repeats it again and again, the same stupid mantra he used when he was eight and Brendon had nightmares, until Ryan starts breathing easily again. He kisses Ryan awkwardly on the corner of the mouth and says, “Are you really surprised?”
“A little,” Ryan says, and that hurts a bit but Spencer supposes he deserves it, for the past few months. God, they were both such idiots. He kisses Ryan warmly, persistent and as best he can until Ryan starts kissing back, and then everything fades away into the warm sunlight of morning coming through the curtains. Ryan pushes up after a while and they roll over, Spencer pinned below Ryan, and Ryan squirms until Spencer’s spread his legs enough for Ryan to lie between them. The world is sharpening around Spencer, and he’s half-hard and rocking up against Ryan when there are four sharp knocks on the door.
“Sirs, your carriage to Pemberley is waiting!” the innkeeper calls, and Ryan makes a complaining sound and pulls away. His hair is sticking up at odd angles and his mouth is red; Spencer stares at him, dry-mouthed, and thinks Ryan looks positively indecent.
“Pemberley,” Ryan repeats, sounding annoyed, and rolls off of Spencer and onto the floor, hunting around for his clothes. Spencer blinks at him, brain trying to catch up.
Pemberley, right. Spencer thinks he can do that.
--
Returning to Pemberley - not as a trespasser on a disliked man’s property, but as the official husband to the owner, which makes him an owner as well - is strange. At first, when they get out of the carriage, Spencer doesn’t know how to act in the face of a line of servants who have gathered to greet them. Then Ryan gives him a slow smile, almost as if he gets it, laces their hands together and tugs Spencer forward. There are a lot of servants, Spencer decides, but they are smiling and appear genuinely pleased at the turn of events, so he takes a deep breath and tries to remember names.
It’s Ryan who gives him a tour of the house this time, and it’s rather different from Spencer’s last visit. Ryan steers clear of the galleries and impressive rooms, preferring to show Spencer through the less spacious, more comfortably cluttered parts of the house. They stop in the library for a while, the scent of dust and old books all around them, light streaming in through high windows, the two of them surrounded by shelves that stretch higher than Spencer can reach.
He walks along the rows, skimming the titles while Ryan stands to the side and watches him with fond amusement in every line of his body. “How many of these did you actually read?” Spencer asks him.
“A few. Even some that you wouldn’t approve of,” Ryan says. “I didn’t much care for getting in my father’s way, and there wasn’t much of a chance to encounter him in here. So this is where I spent most of the time I didn’t spend around Pete.”
Spencer glances away, and it’s stupid, this sudden ache in his chest. Pete isn’t part of Ryan’s life anymore, and to be jealous of Ryan’s past would be plain embarrassing. Still, Spencer can’t help but wonder whether they-whether Pete spent some time in here as well, whether he coaxed Ryan into some hidden corner, pressed him up against a shelf, both of them laughing until they weren’t anymore, until the laughter had been swallowed by urgent kisses and whispered promises.
“Spencer,” Ryan says, very close all of a sudden.
Spencer swallows and offers a smile. Ryan’s gaze fixes on his mouth for an instant, then returns to meet his eyes.
“Spencer,” Ryan repeats.
“I just.” Spencer shrugs, but Ryan is so close now that Spencer can feel each of his exhalations, a warm gust of air. It’s not helping with Spencer’s concentration. “I’m not… sure.”
For a long moment, Ryan doesn’t say anything. Then he squares his shoulders and takes a step back, and Spencer reaches for him before he even realizes the misleading message of his words. “No,” he says, quick and decisive. “No, Ryan, not that. I’m sure about this, about, about us. I want you. I love you, okay? I do.”
It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it still makes Ryan’s eyes widen, and Spencer thinks he should maybe say it a lot more often. Grand declarations always make him feel a little awkward, though. “It’s just that,” he says, instead of repeating himself. “You’ve been with… You had Pete. And I’m not… You know I’ve never…”
“I didn’t marry you for your skills under the sheets,” Ryan says dryly, but the warmth is back in his gaze. “Not that I have any doubts that you’re going to do just fine, but I don’t expect you to be perfect on the first try. I mean, Spencer, I know you haven’t done that.” He actually sounds rather pleased about that fact. It makes Spencer’s shoulders relax a little.
“I just don’t want you to be disappointed,” he says, and then he wonders how much that makes him sound like one of those heroines in a romance novel. He doesn’t think he showed any similarities to them before he met Ryan. The thought makes him laugh softly.
“What?” Ryan asks. He looks curious rather than cautious, and Spencer likes that.
“Nothing. Just that your romance book skulking is contagious, apparently.”
“You’re not skulking,” Ryan points out. “Also, you’re not a damsel in distress. And your hair’s rather short for a heroine, I must say. And you’re lacking in the curves department.” He smirks and touches a hand to Spencer’s chest, letting it linger.
“Thanks,” Spencer says. “I really do feel better about confessing my insecurities now.”
“They’re unfounded.” Ryan’s smirk transforms into a smile. “Really, Spencer. There is no way you could be a disappointment.”
Spencer is about to reply when the hand on his chest starts nudging him backwards. He squints at Ryan but goes easily enough, and then his shoulder blades press against a row of books. Ryan’s smile is rather feral now. He closes the short distance between them, nothing left, just two thin layers of clothes. Spencer inhales deeply, and his focus narrows down to the weight of Ryan’s body against his.
“No way at all,” Ryan says. Spencer brings up a hand to tangle in Ryan’s hair, and it might be some kind of cue because Ryan leans forward and brings their mouths together. They start out with nothing but gentle kisses, light and easy. Then Ryan thrusts forward just a little, their hips knocking together, one of Ryan’s legs sliding in between Spencer’s thighs. Spencer parts his lips for a gasp, and Ryan’s tongue licks into his mouth, clever and God, so good. It takes Spencer long moments to even realize that he’s rocking against Ryan, heat building between them.
A gentle knock on the door makes them freeze.
Ryan groans and peels himself away, patting at his clothes. His hair is a wild mess, and Spencer reaches out without thought to smooth it down at least somewhat. He’s afraid that he himself doesn’t look much better. If Ryan’s heated look, resting on his face for a heavy moment, is any indication, he doesn’t.
“Yes?” Ryan calls.
The young servant - Katie, Spencer thinks, but he’s not sure - enters and drops into a perfect curtsy. Her expression is respectful, but there’s a curl to her mouth that makes Spencer wonder whether all of Ryan’s servants regard him like this, with this mixture of fondness and indulgence. “Sir,” she begins, then corrects herself. “Sirs. Mr Ross, Mr Viglione requires your presence in order to go over some documents. He says it’s important.”
Ryan sighs, but nods. He runs a hand through his hair almost absently, glancing at Spencer, and Spencer wishes he knew enough of business matters to be of any help. He’ll have to catch up on that; he doesn’t like being in the dark.
“Do you want--?” Ryan begins.
Spencer smiles and shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he says. “I’m perfectly capable of being left on my own, you know that.”
“It’s just-”
“Ryan,” Spencer interrupts, “go. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay,” Ryan says. He nods and tilts forward to brush another kiss on Spencer’s mouth, and then he’s gone. Spencer tugs at his shirt, slightly ajar, and finally straightens. He didn’t really notice how hot he felt until he notices that his skin is cooling down.
For a moment, he’s at somewhat of a loss for what to do. In all honesty, he's not really used to being alone inside a house; there was always Brendon or one of his sisters to provide him with ample entertainment and, occasionally, a source of annoyance. It's... a nice change of pace, actually. He wouldn't mind having Brendon around, but Brendon and Jon already announced their visit for later this month, so it's not like he won't get to see him fairly soon.
In the end, Spencer ends up grabbing a random book and goes down to the lake. He's aware that the servants are lingering casually close, probably on Ryan's orders in case Spencer looks like he's beginning to change his mind, or something similarly ridiculous.
Spencer's not going anywhere. He hopes Ryan will come to fully realize that sooner rather than later.
Down at the lake, it's not nearly as warm as the last time he was here. He remembers the sun-drenched hours in the boat, remembers Ryan emerging wet and dripping from the lake, but right now, the wind is cold on his face, and while the sun is shining, its rays are weak and don't do much to warm him up. It's mostly stubbornness that makes him sit down on the pier and take a first good look at the book.
He almost laughs out loud when he reads the title, a little faded, the gold starting to flake in places. The Divine Comedy it is, then.
--
It really is cold. Even with the sun shining down on him, it’s cold. Spencer manages for half an hour before he admits defeat and wanders back into the house, running into Katie at the bottom of the staircase. He’s not sure it’s by chance.
“Katie?” he asks.
She smiles and drops into another curtsy. “Sir?”
“Could you, um.” For all that Ryan showed him some of the more private parts of the house, Spencer has no idea where their bedroom is located. Or their bathroom. Assuming they even share a room; it’s not unusual for couples of a high social status to keep separate rooms. “Could you show me to the bathroom?”
“Of course,” she says. There are dimples in her cheeks, and maybe it’s only Spencer’s imagination, but she seems to regard him with the same fond indulgence she bestowed upon Ryan earlier. Maybe it’s a natural extension.
He follows her up two flights of stairs, then they take a corner and walk along a long hallway before she shows him into a large, light-flooded room with a king-sized bed pushed up against one of the walls. There are two nightstands, and one looks used, cluttered with various items and books, while the other one seems new.
“If you go through that door, you will find yourself in the master bathroom,” Katie tells him. “Would you like me to set up a hot bath for you?”
The goosebumps on his arms haven’t quite receded. Spencer nods and smiles. “That would be wonderful,” he says.
It feels a little weird, someone else drawing a bath for him. They only had two maids at Longbourn and they were always far too busy to bother doing easy tasks like getting baths ready for grubby boys, and Spencer feels kind of guilty when Katie smiles and waves him out of the room. He wanders along the corridor, poking his head in various rooms (seven out of nine are bedrooms, and Spencer is starting to wonder exactly how big this house is, anyway) and feeling slightly awkward.
Katie appears like magic behind him when it’s ready, and he follows her obediently down the hall. The bath is hotter than it ever was back at home, and there are several unnecessary candles lit around the room. Spencer suspects there’s some smelling salts or something in the hot water, too, because a fragrant scent is drifting up with the steam.
Spencer says, in a voice that is ridiculously awed, “Thank you,” and Katie smiles at him, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him. He regards the huge bath and wonders what his mother would think if she could see it, then laughs softly and shakes his head.
He strips out of his clothes, undoing the top three buttons of his shirt and dragging it over his head slowly. He is suddenly conscious of the fact that very soon it could be Ryan doing this, Ryan skimming the shirt up over Spencer’s back, letting his touch linger, Ryan’s fingers deft and tugging his trousers down, Ryan’s hands on him. Spencer swallows hard, and when he catches sight of himself in a mirror his eyes are glazed and there is a slight flush in his cheeks. He thinks, soon, and there is that same spark of desire low on his spine that he’s beginning to associate with anything faintly to do with Ryan, spreading up through his body with a slow, prickly warmth.
He takes his book with him into the bath, propping his elbows up on the sides and tilting his head back against the high wall of the bath. The water is hot and perfect and he stretches out, sighing contentedly. He bathed properly before the wedding, too; soon he’s going to be spoiled into taking long soaks for granted.
The book’s as good as the first time he read it and the bath is really comfortable, so pretty soon Spencer loses track of the time. When the door creaks open, the bath water is just starting to fade from nice to vaguely lukewarm, and Spencer yelps, dropping the book onto the floor and splashing around so that his front is pressed up against the wall of the bath, shielding himself from intruders.
But it’s just Ryan.
Ryan crosses the floor to him, grinning like he finds Spencer’s display rather amusing. He keeps his eyes on Spencer’s face, though, which Spencer appreciates because he’d kind of rather Ryan saw him naked for the first time in slightly more dignified circumstances. His skin is all pink and wrinkly from the bath water.
Ryan kneels down in front of him so that they’re at eye level and says, “Hello.”
Spencer blinks at him. “Hello?” he echoes, and Ryan’s smile gets bigger. He leans forward and kisses Spencer, small and disarmingly sweet, like he can’t help it, and Spencer leans closer, forgetting his wet, wrinkly fingers in favour of cupping Ryan’s face, drawing him closer. When Ryan breaks away, his smile is gone.
“I feel like I’m ignoring you,” he says quietly.
Spencer blinks at him. “Ryan,” he says. “You’ve practically lived at Longbourn and Netherfield for the past two months. Did you think I wouldn’t expect you to have business to attend to when you got back?”
“We,” Ryan corrects absently, and shrugs. “I know. I’m sorry.” His gaze drifts off to the right of Spencer’s cheek, staring out the window, and Spencer has to clear his throat pointedly before Ryan jerks back to him. “Anyway,” he says. “I’ll be a while longer. Amanda just came over, that’s why I could sneak away for a little bit.”
“Oh,” Spencer says, surprised. “Should I go down and say hello? Did she come to, uh.” He stops and flushes faintly pink. “I don’t really know what’s expected of me,” he admits.
Ryan laughs. “Oh, people will probably visit for the sole purpose of sizing you up,” he says cheerfully, with a fair amount of unholy delight at the prospect in his voice. “But they’ll leave us in peace for a few days. No, Amanda’s over because she enjoys flirting with Brian Viglione. I thought I’d best leave her to it.”
“Viglione and Amanda?” Spencer wonders, and Ryan shrugs.
“I suspect Amanda is quite fond of him, really,” he says. “And certainly Viglione is much nicer than one of her previous choices.”
Spencer hums in agreement and they sit in amiable silence for a moment, Spencer’s thoughts wandering. He asks, almost without thinking, “Why didn’t you and Amanda ever get married?”
“We almost did,” Ryan says carelessly, and Spencer chokes, sitting up straighter and staring at him.
“What?” he says, and he doesn’t mean for his tone to come out upset, he honestly doesn’t, but it does anyway.
Ryan looks at him with surprise, as though he wasn’t expecting the reaction (which, Spencer thinks waspishly, is quite frankly ridiculous of him). He says, slowly, “I didn’t tell you that?”
“I think it might have slipped your mind,” Spencer says tightly, and Ryan makes a pleasantly confused little noise. Spencer narrows his eyes at him.
“Oh,” Ryan says. “Well, it was after… after Pete seduced her that summer, she was quite… broken up about it for a while after that. A mixture of her having quite strong feelings for him and also misdirected guilt and anger at herself for falling for his deception. And I was furious, too, of course. I think - I think it was then that I truly stopped loving him. I couldn’t forgive him for that.” He screws up his nose and Spencer waits, scraping his fingernails against his palm. “Anyway, Amanda and I spent about six months properly getting Pete out of our lives and such, and I was feeling very protective of her - which she hated, incidentally - and very… angry with myself for letting her be conned into loving him. Amanda is very self-assured and she’s very intelligent, but I was a bit… mixed up, I suppose, and I was worried about what might happen in the future.”
“So you decided the best thing to do was force her to marry you?” Spencer asks blankly. Ryan shakes his head.
“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “I didn’t force her to do anything. Amanda has always been, will always be, one of my best friends. It began to occur to me that marriage could perhaps be a very good way of looking after her, not to mention saving Gerard from… well. Let’s leave it at the fact that I am very glad Gerard was more good-natured about our potential union than Mr Iero was.” He glances at Spencer slyly and normally, normally Spencer would grin and possibly use the advantage to indulge in a little gossip.
“Go on,” he says.
Ryan gives him a slightly wary glance but continues, “And it wouldn’t be a loveless marriage. I mean, I had never thought about Amanda in that way but I love her dearly and she’s not exactly unattractive.”
“So,” Spencer says, maybe a trifle bitterly. “I suppose Amanda ruined your grand plans, did she?”
“Oh, no, she thought it was a reasonable idea, too,” Ryan tells him. Spencer sinks a little lower in the bath water; Ryan appears entirely unconcerned, as if he has no idea what kind of effect his story is having. “Pete had left her somewhat disenchanted with the whole idea of romance, and this was a handy way to get her parents to stop pestering her about marriage, especially considering they didn’t like her spending so much time with me. They thought I was scaring her suitors off. We decided to announce a quiet engagement sometime within the next few months and keep it going for a year or so before getting married.” Ryan stops and then glances up at Spencer through his eyelashes, going slightly pink. “But, we called it off pretty soon after that. I think maybe both of us were a little relieved after all.”
“Why’d you call it off?” Spencer asks, curious at the sudden halt to the story. Ryan shrugs.
“Oh, a handful of reasons,” he says vaguely. “I suppose we both came to our senses.”
“Ryan,” Spencer says.
Ryan nods, caught out. He half-smiles and says, sounding slightly embarrassed, “Well, Jon went to Netherfield and I met you. So.”
Spencer’s breath catches in his throat and he starts smiling a little uncontrollably. He leans forward and Ryan kisses him, soft until Spencer nips at his bottom lip and makes a small, impatient noise. Then Ryan’s hands come up and catch in his hair, dragging him closer, and the rim of the bath is digging into Spencer’s chest but he doesn’t care, not with Ryan licking into his mouth, sucking at his tongue until Spencer can’t keep in a small moan, hips rocking forward in the warm water against nothing.
“Ryan,” he says, “Ryan, Ryan,” and Ryan kisses him hungrily, mouth trailing wetly off of Spencer’s and across his jaw. Spencer tilts his head up and Ryan mouths over his throat, just a hint of teeth, sucking hard until Spencer realises suddenly what Ryan’s doing; leaving a mark. He breaths raggedly, fingers flexing in the cotton of Ryan’s shirt.
Ryan pulls himself away and says breathlessly, helplessly, “Spencer.”
“Want to-” Spencer begins and then stops because his voice is too hoarse. He clears his throat and tries again. “Want to come in?”
Ryan’s eyes darken and focus on Spencer’s mouth, and he rocks forward just slightly, hands twitching and reaching out. Then he pulls himself straight again, still with the same stupidly perfect posture, and says, “I can’t.” Spencer makes an annoyed sound without meaning to and Ryan’s eyes clear slightly. He starts grinning and says cheerfully, “Lots of business to do, you know. I’m not so fond of baths, anyway. Have fun!”
He stands up and moves away. Spencer stares after him in disbelief. “You’re a bastard,” he remarks, and Ryan turns and leans against the door, looking at Spencer with his head tilted to the side. It’s slightly disconcerting to have someone watch you like that, Spencer thinks, but at the same time, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of it.
“I’m keeping you fed and clothed and in a steady supply of hot water,” Ryan tells him with pseudo-dignity, and Spencer glares at him.
“I bet Brendon and Jon aren’t having this problem,” he says.
Ryan scoffs. “Brendon and Jon left the celebrations approximately half an hour after they were officially allowed to,” he says. “And rode straight to Netherfield, I believe. I doubt they’ve even allowed anyone to approach their bedroom since.”
“Ryan,” Spencer protests, horrified. “Don’t say things like that!”
Ryan’s grin grows, blooming wickedly across his face. “What?” he says. “Don’t we like to think about precious Brendon being-”
“Ryan!” Spencer all but shrieks, clapping his hands over his ears. “He’s my brother!”
“Not technically,” Ryan says, eyes bright with mischief. “Anyway, you two shared a bed during your formative younger years. Are you honestly saying you’ve never had embarrassing situations crop up?”
“Oh my God,” Spencer says faintly, turning his back on Ryan and sinking back into the water. “Go away, oh God. Haven’t you scarred me enough?”
Ryan’s laughter sounds all the way down the corridor. Spencer sits in his lukewarm bath water and scowls, thinking grumpily that at least the mental images Ryan’s sickening comments had provided him with had the effect of killing his errection. He honestly hadn’t been expecting ‘husband being a complete tease’ to be one of the setbacks in his new marriage.
--
His suitcase is propped beside the wardrobe and fresh clothes are laid out on the side of the bed that Spencer assumes will be his. Someone placed a bottle with lotion on the bedside table, and it could be harmless, but it makes Spencer flush regardless. They’ll need something like this, right? Something to ease the-
Oh God. He wonders if Ryan put it there. He hopes that Ryan did, because the thought of Ryan asking one of the servants to provide it makes Spencer cringe. It’s still too raw, too private. He doesn’t want everyone to speculate about what he and Ryan get up to behind closed doors.
Not that there is much of a foundation for speculation, so far. Not counting a number of increasingly frustrating beginnings, frustrating because they cut off too early, never seem to lead to anything.
Spencer wonders if Ryan enjoys making him wait, watching him squirm and want. Maybe it’s Ryan’s version of payback. Maybe Spencer kind of deserves it.
With a sigh, he finishes buttoning up his shirt and slides into the pants. He should probably go down to meet Amanda. For all that he actually grew to enjoy her company after their rather unfortunate first encounter, he feels a little less inclined to like her after Ryan’s revelations. Stupid.
He heaves another sigh and bends down to lace his shoes.
--
Another servant - Morris, possibly, but Spencer isn’t certain - shows him to the tea parlor, and when Spencer enters, he finds Amanda and Ryan bent over a book, their cheeks nearly touching. From his position at the door, Spencer can’t tell for sure, but he thinks their fingers even might be overlapping in holding up the book.
Spencer exhales carefully, controlled.
“Spencer,” Amanda greets him cheerfully, and she really is beautiful, her smile wide and her eyes intelligent.
Spencer inclines his head and forces an answering smile. “Amanda. So you didn’t feel like staying in London for a few days after the wedding?” His tone is a little off-balance, he knows it is, and Ryan seems to notice because he gives Spencer a questioning glance.
“I would have,” she says, “but like Ryan, I had some business issues waiting for me. I don’t know why November’s always the busiest month.”
Spencer nods and doesn’t know what else to say. He feels badly equipped to discuss business matters with anyone. His glance travels from the armchair to the couch that Ryan and Amanda are sharing. There isn’t much room left on the couch.
“Enjoyed the rest of your bath?” Ryan asks. He shifts over on the couch, and while that opens up a gap large enough for Spencer, it also brings Ryan and Amanda that much closer. Spencer can’t quite stop himself from blinking at the lack of distance between them, then he glances back at Ryan to find Ryan studying him. Spencer swallows, and something like realization flickers in Ryan’s eyes.
“I did enjoy it, yes,” Spencer says. He crosses the few steps to the couch and sinks down a little stiffly. Ryan is smiling stupidly at him.
“I’m glad,” he says. “Amanda and I are just catching up on our knowledge about compound interests. Pretty boring, I guess.”
Spencer doesn’t miss the emphasis on Amanda’s name. He doesn’t clench his fists, though. He merely shakes his head and says, “No, that’s fine. I do want to learn these things, you know?”
Amanda’s laugh is low and amused, and Spencer has to remind himself that he does like her, but it still grates on his nerves and makes him want to drape an arm around Ryan’s shoulders and pull him in. He doesn’t, of course. “Are you sure?” Amanda asks. “Because a lot of it is incredibly boring, it really is. If I had someone I trust enough to take care of it for me, I’d jump at the chance.”
“I did offer,” Ryan says flatly, like they talked about this before.
“You have enough on your plate already,” Amanda says. Her tone is matter-of-fact, and Spencer doesn’t like that she feels it’s perfectly within her right to make decisions like that for Ryan.
Then he catches Amanda’s raised brow, most likely a reaction to his unhappy frown, and he feels ridiculous.
“Well,” Ryan says. “As long as it’s not a matter of trust, I suppose I’ll accept your reasons.” One of his hands comes to rest on Spencer’s knee, but the other is still holding up the book, still close to Amanda’s, and maybe Ryan feels Spencer’s knee twitch. He probably does.
Ryan turns his head for a slow smile, and Spencer frowns and looks down at the page of the book. The numbers don’t make any sense to him whatsoever. He leans back, his shoulder pressing to Ryan’s, and listens while Ryan and Amanda discuss things he doesn’t understand. Ryan’s hand on his knee is the only reminder that Ryan hasn’t forgotten about him completely.
“No,” Ryan says at some point, when Spencer is already growing restless, thinking about whether he should just leave them to their devices and… grab one of the horses, or something. “No, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t transferred yet. Brian told us to withhold that, remember?”
“Not really,” Amanda says.
“He did.” Ryan’s tone is teasing, but Spencer thinks it could also be just slightly flirtatious. “Maybe you were too busy smiling at him to hear a word he was saying.”
“Maybe you could prove your claims, instead of throwing out ludicrous comments,” Amanda replies.
“Oh, I will.” Ryan pushes himself to his feet, using Spencer’s knee for leverage. His hand is warm through the linen, and then it’s gone. “I’ll be right back,” Ryan says.
He ambles out into the hallway, the door closing softly behind him. Spencer sits very straight and refuses to look at Amanda. He likes her. He really, really likes her. He just needs to keep reminding his racing pulse of that.
“You know,” Amanda drawls, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous of me.”
Spencer keeps his gaze on his hands. “What makes you think you do know better?”
“Ah.” Amanda pauses, then adds, “In case it makes a difference, it’s entirely unfounded.”
“Right,” Spencer says dryly. “Which is why the two of you almost got married, yes?”
“Yes, he mentioned that he told you about that.” There’s an edge of laughter to her tone, and when Spencer glances over, her lips are curled in amusement. “It was never about romantic love, though. We were both rather… disenchanted with romantic notions of any sort at that point. It seemed like a good idea.”
Spencer slumps back into the cushions. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose.”
She gives him an approving grin. “Of course he is.”
“He’s not that cruel,” Spencer protests.
“It’s not cruelty.” Amanda shakes her head, grinning almost wolfishly. “It’s just that Ryan needs reassurance as much as everyone else. He’s just not always very good at showing it.”
“He shouldn’t need reassurance anymore from me,” Spencer grumbles, but it makes him feel guilty at the same time, that Ryan still needs it. “I mean, what more can I do? I’m… I wouldn’t have married him if I didn’t, you know. If I didn’t love him.”
“I think he knows that.” Amanda touches his elbow, and it’s much easier to remember why he likes her, now that she’s not practically sharing breath with Ryan. “Just give him some time to actually believe it, okay?”
“I will,” Spencer says. “I kind of owe that to him, don’t I?”
“I’d say you don’t, but,” she grins, “I’d be lying. So I won’t.”
“I appreciate it.” Spencer keeps his tone flat and sarcastic even though he does appreciate it. For all that they’re married now, officially declared husband and husband… Well. There’s still a long way to go.
--
>> Coda 2/2
_________________
Up in their room, Ryan slumps tiredly in a chair with his eyes closed while Spencer washes his face with the basin of water provided and changes into his nightshirt (not hiding, but glancing nervously over his shoulder to make sure Ryan isn’t peeking). When he turns around, Ryan hasn’t moved from the chair, is still sitting there in his boots and wedding clothes, jacket slung haphazardly over the back. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing evenly and Spencer draws closer warily; he doesn’t think Ryan’s asleep, but he’s not quite sure how to react.
Ryan answers his unvoiced question by mumbling, voice rough with tiredness, “Hi.” Spencer grins at him even though Ryan can’t see and sits down on the floor beside him, works on unlacing and tugging off his boots. Ryan puts his hand down and pets absently at Spencer’s hair and Spencer leans into the touch without thinking, and suddenly Ryan’s eyes are open and they are staring at each other. Spencer feels his heart race, wonders if this is normal, to feel his skin itching, unsure and nervous but also wanting so much, just from kneeling beside Ryan’s feet, just from looking up at Ryan’s big, dark eyes.
He leans forward slightly and rests his cheek against Ryan’s knee, breathes out so that the warm gust of air breezes along Ryan’s thigh. Ryan shudders visibly and then pushes himself forward and out of the chair, lands on his knees next to Spencer and curves his hand around Spencer’s cheek.
“This is unorthodox of me,” he whispers, “but what if we… Tomorrow night, maybe. When we’re not tired and it can be.” He pauses and then says, slowly, “You’ve never. Before, you’ve never-”
“No,” Spencer says.
“Let me be better for you,” Ryan says, pushing the hair out of Spencer’s eyes and looking at him intently. “I’m so tired, Spence. You don’t want me now, I’ll be dreadfully incompetent.”
Spencer swallows hard, because he’s glad, he’s tired too and still a little sick with worry. Ryan has had Pete, and Pete gives off an air of cocky confidence and self-assurance, and Ryan is beautiful and moves with a slow, luxurious grace and also kisses very, very well. Spencer feels very small and unworthy in comparison but he doesn’t want to agree too readily, and he feels like he owes Ryan some truths, after all this time. He says, “I always want you.”
Ryan leans forward and kisses him, sucking Spencer’s bottom lip into his mouth, and then he breaks away and gets up and pulls off his clothes until he’s standing in his undergarments. He smiles at Spencer and says, “Bedtime.”
They crawl under the covers and curl up close to each other. Ryan has a surprisingly tenacious grip and he hangs on tight, and they trade kisses carefully, warm and sweet under the covers. Spencer has shared a bed for years and he thinks it shouldn’t be so incredibly, unbelievably different all of a sudden, but he is warmly conscious of every place where they are touching, their bare legs tangled together, Ryan’s hand cupping his elbow. Eventually their mouths are barely touching, open and moving just slightly, and Spencer doesn’t know who falls asleep first.
--
He wakes up in the morning curled on his side, his back to Ryan, and for a second he thinks Ryan’s gone, can’t feel him anyway. Then he rolls over and Ryan’s still there, but he’s lying as far away from Spencer as possible, propped up on one elbow, watching him. His eyes are as big and dark as they were last night but there’s this vaguely terrified look in them, and he jolts slightly when Spencer looks at him, throat working as he swallows hard.
Spencer is not sure what to do for a moment. For a moment, Ryan is as baffling as he was when he spilt the wine on the floor, when he asked Spencer to dance, when he charged out of the pouring rain and said words Spencer couldn’t quite comprehend in a voice that cracked. Then Ryan shifts his head, makes to roll away and Spencer thinks no, thinks I know you better now, thinks I could never hate you ever again and you’re not allowed to turn away from me.
He moves fast without thinking and rolls right over Ryan, knocking all the breath out of him and sprawling across Ryan, pushing him down until he’s lying on his back, nudging him back over into the middle of the bed. When he’s finished manhandling Ryan he just stays there, solid and warm.
He says, “I’m here. Hey, Ryan. I’m here,” and repeats it again and again, the same stupid mantra he used when he was eight and Brendon had nightmares, until Ryan starts breathing easily again. He kisses Ryan awkwardly on the corner of the mouth and says, “Are you really surprised?”
“A little,” Ryan says, and that hurts a bit but Spencer supposes he deserves it, for the past few months. God, they were both such idiots. He kisses Ryan warmly, persistent and as best he can until Ryan starts kissing back, and then everything fades away into the warm sunlight of morning coming through the curtains. Ryan pushes up after a while and they roll over, Spencer pinned below Ryan, and Ryan squirms until Spencer’s spread his legs enough for Ryan to lie between them. The world is sharpening around Spencer, and he’s half-hard and rocking up against Ryan when there are four sharp knocks on the door.
“Sirs, your carriage to Pemberley is waiting!” the innkeeper calls, and Ryan makes a complaining sound and pulls away. His hair is sticking up at odd angles and his mouth is red; Spencer stares at him, dry-mouthed, and thinks Ryan looks positively indecent.
“Pemberley,” Ryan repeats, sounding annoyed, and rolls off of Spencer and onto the floor, hunting around for his clothes. Spencer blinks at him, brain trying to catch up.
Pemberley, right. Spencer thinks he can do that.
--
Returning to Pemberley - not as a trespasser on a disliked man’s property, but as the official husband to the owner, which makes him an owner as well - is strange. At first, when they get out of the carriage, Spencer doesn’t know how to act in the face of a line of servants who have gathered to greet them. Then Ryan gives him a slow smile, almost as if he gets it, laces their hands together and tugs Spencer forward. There are a lot of servants, Spencer decides, but they are smiling and appear genuinely pleased at the turn of events, so he takes a deep breath and tries to remember names.
It’s Ryan who gives him a tour of the house this time, and it’s rather different from Spencer’s last visit. Ryan steers clear of the galleries and impressive rooms, preferring to show Spencer through the less spacious, more comfortably cluttered parts of the house. They stop in the library for a while, the scent of dust and old books all around them, light streaming in through high windows, the two of them surrounded by shelves that stretch higher than Spencer can reach.
He walks along the rows, skimming the titles while Ryan stands to the side and watches him with fond amusement in every line of his body. “How many of these did you actually read?” Spencer asks him.
“A few. Even some that you wouldn’t approve of,” Ryan says. “I didn’t much care for getting in my father’s way, and there wasn’t much of a chance to encounter him in here. So this is where I spent most of the time I didn’t spend around Pete.”
Spencer glances away, and it’s stupid, this sudden ache in his chest. Pete isn’t part of Ryan’s life anymore, and to be jealous of Ryan’s past would be plain embarrassing. Still, Spencer can’t help but wonder whether they-whether Pete spent some time in here as well, whether he coaxed Ryan into some hidden corner, pressed him up against a shelf, both of them laughing until they weren’t anymore, until the laughter had been swallowed by urgent kisses and whispered promises.
“Spencer,” Ryan says, very close all of a sudden.
Spencer swallows and offers a smile. Ryan’s gaze fixes on his mouth for an instant, then returns to meet his eyes.
“Spencer,” Ryan repeats.
“I just.” Spencer shrugs, but Ryan is so close now that Spencer can feel each of his exhalations, a warm gust of air. It’s not helping with Spencer’s concentration. “I’m not… sure.”
For a long moment, Ryan doesn’t say anything. Then he squares his shoulders and takes a step back, and Spencer reaches for him before he even realizes the misleading message of his words. “No,” he says, quick and decisive. “No, Ryan, not that. I’m sure about this, about, about us. I want you. I love you, okay? I do.”
It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it still makes Ryan’s eyes widen, and Spencer thinks he should maybe say it a lot more often. Grand declarations always make him feel a little awkward, though. “It’s just that,” he says, instead of repeating himself. “You’ve been with… You had Pete. And I’m not… You know I’ve never…”
“I didn’t marry you for your skills under the sheets,” Ryan says dryly, but the warmth is back in his gaze. “Not that I have any doubts that you’re going to do just fine, but I don’t expect you to be perfect on the first try. I mean, Spencer, I know you haven’t done that.” He actually sounds rather pleased about that fact. It makes Spencer’s shoulders relax a little.
“I just don’t want you to be disappointed,” he says, and then he wonders how much that makes him sound like one of those heroines in a romance novel. He doesn’t think he showed any similarities to them before he met Ryan. The thought makes him laugh softly.
“What?” Ryan asks. He looks curious rather than cautious, and Spencer likes that.
“Nothing. Just that your romance book skulking is contagious, apparently.”
“You’re not skulking,” Ryan points out. “Also, you’re not a damsel in distress. And your hair’s rather short for a heroine, I must say. And you’re lacking in the curves department.” He smirks and touches a hand to Spencer’s chest, letting it linger.
“Thanks,” Spencer says. “I really do feel better about confessing my insecurities now.”
“They’re unfounded.” Ryan’s smirk transforms into a smile. “Really, Spencer. There is no way you could be a disappointment.”
Spencer is about to reply when the hand on his chest starts nudging him backwards. He squints at Ryan but goes easily enough, and then his shoulder blades press against a row of books. Ryan’s smile is rather feral now. He closes the short distance between them, nothing left, just two thin layers of clothes. Spencer inhales deeply, and his focus narrows down to the weight of Ryan’s body against his.
“No way at all,” Ryan says. Spencer brings up a hand to tangle in Ryan’s hair, and it might be some kind of cue because Ryan leans forward and brings their mouths together. They start out with nothing but gentle kisses, light and easy. Then Ryan thrusts forward just a little, their hips knocking together, one of Ryan’s legs sliding in between Spencer’s thighs. Spencer parts his lips for a gasp, and Ryan’s tongue licks into his mouth, clever and God, so good. It takes Spencer long moments to even realize that he’s rocking against Ryan, heat building between them.
A gentle knock on the door makes them freeze.
Ryan groans and peels himself away, patting at his clothes. His hair is a wild mess, and Spencer reaches out without thought to smooth it down at least somewhat. He’s afraid that he himself doesn’t look much better. If Ryan’s heated look, resting on his face for a heavy moment, is any indication, he doesn’t.
“Yes?” Ryan calls.
The young servant - Katie, Spencer thinks, but he’s not sure - enters and drops into a perfect curtsy. Her expression is respectful, but there’s a curl to her mouth that makes Spencer wonder whether all of Ryan’s servants regard him like this, with this mixture of fondness and indulgence. “Sir,” she begins, then corrects herself. “Sirs. Mr Ross, Mr Viglione requires your presence in order to go over some documents. He says it’s important.”
Ryan sighs, but nods. He runs a hand through his hair almost absently, glancing at Spencer, and Spencer wishes he knew enough of business matters to be of any help. He’ll have to catch up on that; he doesn’t like being in the dark.
“Do you want--?” Ryan begins.
Spencer smiles and shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he says. “I’m perfectly capable of being left on my own, you know that.”
“It’s just-”
“Ryan,” Spencer interrupts, “go. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay,” Ryan says. He nods and tilts forward to brush another kiss on Spencer’s mouth, and then he’s gone. Spencer tugs at his shirt, slightly ajar, and finally straightens. He didn’t really notice how hot he felt until he notices that his skin is cooling down.
For a moment, he’s at somewhat of a loss for what to do. In all honesty, he's not really used to being alone inside a house; there was always Brendon or one of his sisters to provide him with ample entertainment and, occasionally, a source of annoyance. It's... a nice change of pace, actually. He wouldn't mind having Brendon around, but Brendon and Jon already announced their visit for later this month, so it's not like he won't get to see him fairly soon.
In the end, Spencer ends up grabbing a random book and goes down to the lake. He's aware that the servants are lingering casually close, probably on Ryan's orders in case Spencer looks like he's beginning to change his mind, or something similarly ridiculous.
Spencer's not going anywhere. He hopes Ryan will come to fully realize that sooner rather than later.
Down at the lake, it's not nearly as warm as the last time he was here. He remembers the sun-drenched hours in the boat, remembers Ryan emerging wet and dripping from the lake, but right now, the wind is cold on his face, and while the sun is shining, its rays are weak and don't do much to warm him up. It's mostly stubbornness that makes him sit down on the pier and take a first good look at the book.
He almost laughs out loud when he reads the title, a little faded, the gold starting to flake in places. The Divine Comedy it is, then.
--
It really is cold. Even with the sun shining down on him, it’s cold. Spencer manages for half an hour before he admits defeat and wanders back into the house, running into Katie at the bottom of the staircase. He’s not sure it’s by chance.
“Katie?” he asks.
She smiles and drops into another curtsy. “Sir?”
“Could you, um.” For all that Ryan showed him some of the more private parts of the house, Spencer has no idea where their bedroom is located. Or their bathroom. Assuming they even share a room; it’s not unusual for couples of a high social status to keep separate rooms. “Could you show me to the bathroom?”
“Of course,” she says. There are dimples in her cheeks, and maybe it’s only Spencer’s imagination, but she seems to regard him with the same fond indulgence she bestowed upon Ryan earlier. Maybe it’s a natural extension.
He follows her up two flights of stairs, then they take a corner and walk along a long hallway before she shows him into a large, light-flooded room with a king-sized bed pushed up against one of the walls. There are two nightstands, and one looks used, cluttered with various items and books, while the other one seems new.
“If you go through that door, you will find yourself in the master bathroom,” Katie tells him. “Would you like me to set up a hot bath for you?”
The goosebumps on his arms haven’t quite receded. Spencer nods and smiles. “That would be wonderful,” he says.
It feels a little weird, someone else drawing a bath for him. They only had two maids at Longbourn and they were always far too busy to bother doing easy tasks like getting baths ready for grubby boys, and Spencer feels kind of guilty when Katie smiles and waves him out of the room. He wanders along the corridor, poking his head in various rooms (seven out of nine are bedrooms, and Spencer is starting to wonder exactly how big this house is, anyway) and feeling slightly awkward.
Katie appears like magic behind him when it’s ready, and he follows her obediently down the hall. The bath is hotter than it ever was back at home, and there are several unnecessary candles lit around the room. Spencer suspects there’s some smelling salts or something in the hot water, too, because a fragrant scent is drifting up with the steam.
Spencer says, in a voice that is ridiculously awed, “Thank you,” and Katie smiles at him, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him. He regards the huge bath and wonders what his mother would think if she could see it, then laughs softly and shakes his head.
He strips out of his clothes, undoing the top three buttons of his shirt and dragging it over his head slowly. He is suddenly conscious of the fact that very soon it could be Ryan doing this, Ryan skimming the shirt up over Spencer’s back, letting his touch linger, Ryan’s fingers deft and tugging his trousers down, Ryan’s hands on him. Spencer swallows hard, and when he catches sight of himself in a mirror his eyes are glazed and there is a slight flush in his cheeks. He thinks, soon, and there is that same spark of desire low on his spine that he’s beginning to associate with anything faintly to do with Ryan, spreading up through his body with a slow, prickly warmth.
He takes his book with him into the bath, propping his elbows up on the sides and tilting his head back against the high wall of the bath. The water is hot and perfect and he stretches out, sighing contentedly. He bathed properly before the wedding, too; soon he’s going to be spoiled into taking long soaks for granted.
The book’s as good as the first time he read it and the bath is really comfortable, so pretty soon Spencer loses track of the time. When the door creaks open, the bath water is just starting to fade from nice to vaguely lukewarm, and Spencer yelps, dropping the book onto the floor and splashing around so that his front is pressed up against the wall of the bath, shielding himself from intruders.
But it’s just Ryan.
Ryan crosses the floor to him, grinning like he finds Spencer’s display rather amusing. He keeps his eyes on Spencer’s face, though, which Spencer appreciates because he’d kind of rather Ryan saw him naked for the first time in slightly more dignified circumstances. His skin is all pink and wrinkly from the bath water.
Ryan kneels down in front of him so that they’re at eye level and says, “Hello.”
Spencer blinks at him. “Hello?” he echoes, and Ryan’s smile gets bigger. He leans forward and kisses Spencer, small and disarmingly sweet, like he can’t help it, and Spencer leans closer, forgetting his wet, wrinkly fingers in favour of cupping Ryan’s face, drawing him closer. When Ryan breaks away, his smile is gone.
“I feel like I’m ignoring you,” he says quietly.
Spencer blinks at him. “Ryan,” he says. “You’ve practically lived at Longbourn and Netherfield for the past two months. Did you think I wouldn’t expect you to have business to attend to when you got back?”
“We,” Ryan corrects absently, and shrugs. “I know. I’m sorry.” His gaze drifts off to the right of Spencer’s cheek, staring out the window, and Spencer has to clear his throat pointedly before Ryan jerks back to him. “Anyway,” he says. “I’ll be a while longer. Amanda just came over, that’s why I could sneak away for a little bit.”
“Oh,” Spencer says, surprised. “Should I go down and say hello? Did she come to, uh.” He stops and flushes faintly pink. “I don’t really know what’s expected of me,” he admits.
Ryan laughs. “Oh, people will probably visit for the sole purpose of sizing you up,” he says cheerfully, with a fair amount of unholy delight at the prospect in his voice. “But they’ll leave us in peace for a few days. No, Amanda’s over because she enjoys flirting with Brian Viglione. I thought I’d best leave her to it.”
“Viglione and Amanda?” Spencer wonders, and Ryan shrugs.
“I suspect Amanda is quite fond of him, really,” he says. “And certainly Viglione is much nicer than one of her previous choices.”
Spencer hums in agreement and they sit in amiable silence for a moment, Spencer’s thoughts wandering. He asks, almost without thinking, “Why didn’t you and Amanda ever get married?”
“We almost did,” Ryan says carelessly, and Spencer chokes, sitting up straighter and staring at him.
“What?” he says, and he doesn’t mean for his tone to come out upset, he honestly doesn’t, but it does anyway.
Ryan looks at him with surprise, as though he wasn’t expecting the reaction (which, Spencer thinks waspishly, is quite frankly ridiculous of him). He says, slowly, “I didn’t tell you that?”
“I think it might have slipped your mind,” Spencer says tightly, and Ryan makes a pleasantly confused little noise. Spencer narrows his eyes at him.
“Oh,” Ryan says. “Well, it was after… after Pete seduced her that summer, she was quite… broken up about it for a while after that. A mixture of her having quite strong feelings for him and also misdirected guilt and anger at herself for falling for his deception. And I was furious, too, of course. I think - I think it was then that I truly stopped loving him. I couldn’t forgive him for that.” He screws up his nose and Spencer waits, scraping his fingernails against his palm. “Anyway, Amanda and I spent about six months properly getting Pete out of our lives and such, and I was feeling very protective of her - which she hated, incidentally - and very… angry with myself for letting her be conned into loving him. Amanda is very self-assured and she’s very intelligent, but I was a bit… mixed up, I suppose, and I was worried about what might happen in the future.”
“So you decided the best thing to do was force her to marry you?” Spencer asks blankly. Ryan shakes his head.
“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “I didn’t force her to do anything. Amanda has always been, will always be, one of my best friends. It began to occur to me that marriage could perhaps be a very good way of looking after her, not to mention saving Gerard from… well. Let’s leave it at the fact that I am very glad Gerard was more good-natured about our potential union than Mr Iero was.” He glances at Spencer slyly and normally, normally Spencer would grin and possibly use the advantage to indulge in a little gossip.
“Go on,” he says.
Ryan gives him a slightly wary glance but continues, “And it wouldn’t be a loveless marriage. I mean, I had never thought about Amanda in that way but I love her dearly and she’s not exactly unattractive.”
“So,” Spencer says, maybe a trifle bitterly. “I suppose Amanda ruined your grand plans, did she?”
“Oh, no, she thought it was a reasonable idea, too,” Ryan tells him. Spencer sinks a little lower in the bath water; Ryan appears entirely unconcerned, as if he has no idea what kind of effect his story is having. “Pete had left her somewhat disenchanted with the whole idea of romance, and this was a handy way to get her parents to stop pestering her about marriage, especially considering they didn’t like her spending so much time with me. They thought I was scaring her suitors off. We decided to announce a quiet engagement sometime within the next few months and keep it going for a year or so before getting married.” Ryan stops and then glances up at Spencer through his eyelashes, going slightly pink. “But, we called it off pretty soon after that. I think maybe both of us were a little relieved after all.”
“Why’d you call it off?” Spencer asks, curious at the sudden halt to the story. Ryan shrugs.
“Oh, a handful of reasons,” he says vaguely. “I suppose we both came to our senses.”
“Ryan,” Spencer says.
Ryan nods, caught out. He half-smiles and says, sounding slightly embarrassed, “Well, Jon went to Netherfield and I met you. So.”
Spencer’s breath catches in his throat and he starts smiling a little uncontrollably. He leans forward and Ryan kisses him, soft until Spencer nips at his bottom lip and makes a small, impatient noise. Then Ryan’s hands come up and catch in his hair, dragging him closer, and the rim of the bath is digging into Spencer’s chest but he doesn’t care, not with Ryan licking into his mouth, sucking at his tongue until Spencer can’t keep in a small moan, hips rocking forward in the warm water against nothing.
“Ryan,” he says, “Ryan, Ryan,” and Ryan kisses him hungrily, mouth trailing wetly off of Spencer’s and across his jaw. Spencer tilts his head up and Ryan mouths over his throat, just a hint of teeth, sucking hard until Spencer realises suddenly what Ryan’s doing; leaving a mark. He breaths raggedly, fingers flexing in the cotton of Ryan’s shirt.
Ryan pulls himself away and says breathlessly, helplessly, “Spencer.”
“Want to-” Spencer begins and then stops because his voice is too hoarse. He clears his throat and tries again. “Want to come in?”
Ryan’s eyes darken and focus on Spencer’s mouth, and he rocks forward just slightly, hands twitching and reaching out. Then he pulls himself straight again, still with the same stupidly perfect posture, and says, “I can’t.” Spencer makes an annoyed sound without meaning to and Ryan’s eyes clear slightly. He starts grinning and says cheerfully, “Lots of business to do, you know. I’m not so fond of baths, anyway. Have fun!”
He stands up and moves away. Spencer stares after him in disbelief. “You’re a bastard,” he remarks, and Ryan turns and leans against the door, looking at Spencer with his head tilted to the side. It’s slightly disconcerting to have someone watch you like that, Spencer thinks, but at the same time, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of it.
“I’m keeping you fed and clothed and in a steady supply of hot water,” Ryan tells him with pseudo-dignity, and Spencer glares at him.
“I bet Brendon and Jon aren’t having this problem,” he says.
Ryan scoffs. “Brendon and Jon left the celebrations approximately half an hour after they were officially allowed to,” he says. “And rode straight to Netherfield, I believe. I doubt they’ve even allowed anyone to approach their bedroom since.”
“Ryan,” Spencer protests, horrified. “Don’t say things like that!”
Ryan’s grin grows, blooming wickedly across his face. “What?” he says. “Don’t we like to think about precious Brendon being-”
“Ryan!” Spencer all but shrieks, clapping his hands over his ears. “He’s my brother!”
“Not technically,” Ryan says, eyes bright with mischief. “Anyway, you two shared a bed during your formative younger years. Are you honestly saying you’ve never had embarrassing situations crop up?”
“Oh my God,” Spencer says faintly, turning his back on Ryan and sinking back into the water. “Go away, oh God. Haven’t you scarred me enough?”
Ryan’s laughter sounds all the way down the corridor. Spencer sits in his lukewarm bath water and scowls, thinking grumpily that at least the mental images Ryan’s sickening comments had provided him with had the effect of killing his errection. He honestly hadn’t been expecting ‘husband being a complete tease’ to be one of the setbacks in his new marriage.
--
His suitcase is propped beside the wardrobe and fresh clothes are laid out on the side of the bed that Spencer assumes will be his. Someone placed a bottle with lotion on the bedside table, and it could be harmless, but it makes Spencer flush regardless. They’ll need something like this, right? Something to ease the-
Oh God. He wonders if Ryan put it there. He hopes that Ryan did, because the thought of Ryan asking one of the servants to provide it makes Spencer cringe. It’s still too raw, too private. He doesn’t want everyone to speculate about what he and Ryan get up to behind closed doors.
Not that there is much of a foundation for speculation, so far. Not counting a number of increasingly frustrating beginnings, frustrating because they cut off too early, never seem to lead to anything.
Spencer wonders if Ryan enjoys making him wait, watching him squirm and want. Maybe it’s Ryan’s version of payback. Maybe Spencer kind of deserves it.
With a sigh, he finishes buttoning up his shirt and slides into the pants. He should probably go down to meet Amanda. For all that he actually grew to enjoy her company after their rather unfortunate first encounter, he feels a little less inclined to like her after Ryan’s revelations. Stupid.
He heaves another sigh and bends down to lace his shoes.
--
Another servant - Morris, possibly, but Spencer isn’t certain - shows him to the tea parlor, and when Spencer enters, he finds Amanda and Ryan bent over a book, their cheeks nearly touching. From his position at the door, Spencer can’t tell for sure, but he thinks their fingers even might be overlapping in holding up the book.
Spencer exhales carefully, controlled.
“Spencer,” Amanda greets him cheerfully, and she really is beautiful, her smile wide and her eyes intelligent.
Spencer inclines his head and forces an answering smile. “Amanda. So you didn’t feel like staying in London for a few days after the wedding?” His tone is a little off-balance, he knows it is, and Ryan seems to notice because he gives Spencer a questioning glance.
“I would have,” she says, “but like Ryan, I had some business issues waiting for me. I don’t know why November’s always the busiest month.”
Spencer nods and doesn’t know what else to say. He feels badly equipped to discuss business matters with anyone. His glance travels from the armchair to the couch that Ryan and Amanda are sharing. There isn’t much room left on the couch.
“Enjoyed the rest of your bath?” Ryan asks. He shifts over on the couch, and while that opens up a gap large enough for Spencer, it also brings Ryan and Amanda that much closer. Spencer can’t quite stop himself from blinking at the lack of distance between them, then he glances back at Ryan to find Ryan studying him. Spencer swallows, and something like realization flickers in Ryan’s eyes.
“I did enjoy it, yes,” Spencer says. He crosses the few steps to the couch and sinks down a little stiffly. Ryan is smiling stupidly at him.
“I’m glad,” he says. “Amanda and I are just catching up on our knowledge about compound interests. Pretty boring, I guess.”
Spencer doesn’t miss the emphasis on Amanda’s name. He doesn’t clench his fists, though. He merely shakes his head and says, “No, that’s fine. I do want to learn these things, you know?”
Amanda’s laugh is low and amused, and Spencer has to remind himself that he does like her, but it still grates on his nerves and makes him want to drape an arm around Ryan’s shoulders and pull him in. He doesn’t, of course. “Are you sure?” Amanda asks. “Because a lot of it is incredibly boring, it really is. If I had someone I trust enough to take care of it for me, I’d jump at the chance.”
“I did offer,” Ryan says flatly, like they talked about this before.
“You have enough on your plate already,” Amanda says. Her tone is matter-of-fact, and Spencer doesn’t like that she feels it’s perfectly within her right to make decisions like that for Ryan.
Then he catches Amanda’s raised brow, most likely a reaction to his unhappy frown, and he feels ridiculous.
“Well,” Ryan says. “As long as it’s not a matter of trust, I suppose I’ll accept your reasons.” One of his hands comes to rest on Spencer’s knee, but the other is still holding up the book, still close to Amanda’s, and maybe Ryan feels Spencer’s knee twitch. He probably does.
Ryan turns his head for a slow smile, and Spencer frowns and looks down at the page of the book. The numbers don’t make any sense to him whatsoever. He leans back, his shoulder pressing to Ryan’s, and listens while Ryan and Amanda discuss things he doesn’t understand. Ryan’s hand on his knee is the only reminder that Ryan hasn’t forgotten about him completely.
“No,” Ryan says at some point, when Spencer is already growing restless, thinking about whether he should just leave them to their devices and… grab one of the horses, or something. “No, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t transferred yet. Brian told us to withhold that, remember?”
“Not really,” Amanda says.
“He did.” Ryan’s tone is teasing, but Spencer thinks it could also be just slightly flirtatious. “Maybe you were too busy smiling at him to hear a word he was saying.”
“Maybe you could prove your claims, instead of throwing out ludicrous comments,” Amanda replies.
“Oh, I will.” Ryan pushes himself to his feet, using Spencer’s knee for leverage. His hand is warm through the linen, and then it’s gone. “I’ll be right back,” Ryan says.
He ambles out into the hallway, the door closing softly behind him. Spencer sits very straight and refuses to look at Amanda. He likes her. He really, really likes her. He just needs to keep reminding his racing pulse of that.
“You know,” Amanda drawls, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous of me.”
Spencer keeps his gaze on his hands. “What makes you think you do know better?”
“Ah.” Amanda pauses, then adds, “In case it makes a difference, it’s entirely unfounded.”
“Right,” Spencer says dryly. “Which is why the two of you almost got married, yes?”
“Yes, he mentioned that he told you about that.” There’s an edge of laughter to her tone, and when Spencer glances over, her lips are curled in amusement. “It was never about romantic love, though. We were both rather… disenchanted with romantic notions of any sort at that point. It seemed like a good idea.”
Spencer slumps back into the cushions. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose.”
She gives him an approving grin. “Of course he is.”
“He’s not that cruel,” Spencer protests.
“It’s not cruelty.” Amanda shakes her head, grinning almost wolfishly. “It’s just that Ryan needs reassurance as much as everyone else. He’s just not always very good at showing it.”
“He shouldn’t need reassurance anymore from me,” Spencer grumbles, but it makes him feel guilty at the same time, that Ryan still needs it. “I mean, what more can I do? I’m… I wouldn’t have married him if I didn’t, you know. If I didn’t love him.”
“I think he knows that.” Amanda touches his elbow, and it’s much easier to remember why he likes her, now that she’s not practically sharing breath with Ryan. “Just give him some time to actually believe it, okay?”
“I will,” Spencer says. “I kind of owe that to him, don’t I?”
“I’d say you don’t, but,” she grins, “I’d be lying. So I won’t.”
“I appreciate it.” Spencer keeps his tone flat and sarcastic even though he does appreciate it. For all that they’re married now, officially declared husband and husband… Well. There’s still a long way to go.
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>> Coda 2/2