Team Spencer: A Chain Is No Stronger Than Its Weakest Link
Reaching That Famous Happy End (So Close and Still So Far)


1.
When Ryan suggested they all hole themselves up in a cabin for a few months, to "help get the creative juices flowing" and keep them from getting distracted, none of them ever thought it would come to this. Who would say no to some alone time, away from cameras and pushy fans, a chance to just be themselves and take advantage of alone time to unwind and relax after two years of vigorous touring and media demands? Never in a million years would any of them have suspected that their close-knit dynamic would shift drastically, sending them into a spiraling decent of discord and utter chaos. Nor would they have realized that it would center around one person, but essentially effect them all, painfully so.

Brendon could tell the exact time that things went from bad to worse, right down to the minute. Things were already in upheaval, constant tension wired into the way the boys handled themselves, their bodies stiff and poised for yet another fight or argument. For him, everything happened in slow motion, and he could see it happening, but could do nothing to prevent it from taking place. In the end, it all came back to music; with Ryan, it always did.

"No, Brendon."

"Come on, Ry. Just one more game." Brendon pouted at his lyricist, knowing that he could always get his way with the infamous Urie pout.

"No. We're leaving in two hours, Brendon. And you're not even packed. Besides, I want to make sure the cabin is clean so that we get our deposit back." Ryan's voice was muffled from where he currently had his head in the closet, looking for god knows what.

"Fine. I'll go ask Jon. He's always willing to play with me, even if you won't."

"When are you going to grow up, Brendon?" Ryan sighed exasperatedly, pulling his head out of the closet, lips pursed. Frustration driving his words, Ryan had no idea that he was only making things worse, targeting one of Brendon's biggest insecurities with well-placed and semi-empty words.

"When are you going to listen long enough to consider my songs for the album?" Brendon's look was defiant, a sharp edge to his jaw, feet planted firm.

"Oh god, not this again." Shaking his head, Ryan grabbed the few jackets he'd pulled out of the closet and walked back towards his bedroom to finish packing. He wasn't going to have this conversation with Brendon again. The last two thousand times had been enough.

"Yes, this again! You seem to think that you're the only one who is capable of writing lyrics and it's not true! You just want to be able to control everything. That's what it always comes down to!" Brendon ran an aggravated hand through his hair, jaw set in anger and frustration. "I am more than able to write songs to match the feel of what you're going for, Ryan?"

Ryan laughed sardonically, cruel amusement dancing in his eyes. "You call those songs, Brendon? Maybe if you were writing a musical or the theme music for the next Disney movie. But an actual album that we play live? Not going to happen."

Brendon was trying, he really was. He'd been putting up with more than his fair share of insults and rejection from Ryan when it came to his songs. But to imply that his were only good for kids to sing along to, that hurt. The frustration and insecurity that he'd been bottling up finally came loose. Brown eyes flashing with anger and a hint of tears, Brendon strode over to Ryan, face to face with him.

"My words aren't just another little diddy that will get stuck in your head, Ryan. I may not use every SAT word I know out of context or have song titles that go on for days, but my songs aren't shit. And if you listened to them and actually stepped outside your little box, you'd know that." Brendon was breathing hard, his body taught and vibrating with the emotions inside of him.

Honey eyes narrowed dangerously and in any other situation, Brendon would have ducked for cover behind Spencer. "I am the lyricist, Brendon. You will sing my words. End of discussion."

"You know, he's right, Brendon." Both boys turn to face Jon, who's standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest casually. Brendon relaxed slightly, feeling relief rush through him at the bassist's words.

"Thank you, Jon. See Ryan, he gets it."

Pushing away from the door, Jon shook his head slowly, as if he was taking a bit of time to choose his words. "No, I meant that Ryan's right. I've looked over a few of your songs and they don't really fit this album. Maybe we could use them on a B-side or something." He shrugged, plopping down on Ryan's bed, blinking up at them.

Brendon stared at the two of them, aghast. "You're serious. Here we are, supposed to be working as a band to get this album done and yet, we're right back to where we started with 'Fever'. Ryan writes the words and everyone else just picks out the music. In that case, Jon, you might as well just go back to Chicago, because last time, I wrote the bass line." Brendon knew it was low, but it wasn't fair. He wasn't a child and yet, he was constantly getting treated like one because of his hyperactive tendencies.

Jon's eyes narrowed as Ryan's widened in shock, much like what Brendon was feeling for having said that. Jon opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Spencer.

"Jon. Don't. Everyone, get your shit packed and let's go. I think it's time we take a break. Apart." With that he turned on his heel, leaving the other three speechless, but nonetheless agreeing. There wasn't anything else to do. This just wasn't working.

That was the end of their stay at the cabin and when Brendon reached the Summerlin city limits in his Audi R8 Spider, it was harder to keep the unbidden tears at bay, feeling more lost than he'd ever felt in his entire lifetime. Somehow, things had shifted and he wasn't sure that he'd ever be able to mend them back together again.

2.
Brendon sighed, picking up the stack of t-shirts at the foot of his bed. His room looked like a Brendon-shaped tornado had torn through it, clothes scattered here and there in piles of takes, maybes and stay-at-homes. He sighed again, flopping down in the middle of his floor, looking over the haphazard piles gloomily. He'd had very little contact with the rest of the guys over the weeks since they'd left the cabin, unless it was to give his opinion on a song that Jon and Ryan had composed and "oh, Brendon do you think you could write a piano accompaniment for this?" There had been a couple of practices at Ryan's house, but they were stiff and uncomfortable, more about the music than the four of them being friends and engaging in a jam session just for the fun of it. Brendon was careful not to tread in murky water, refraining from bringing up the subject of the songs he wanted on their new album, the memory of his fight with Ryan at the cabin still too fresh in his mind. The pain from Ryan's scathing remarks and snooty attitude hadn't quite faded yet and he wasn't ready for yet another blow.

Mumbling under his breath, Brendon pulled himself to his feet and started putting things into his suitcase. It wasn't like he needed a whole slew of clothes to take with him. Yes, they were going to be gone most of the summer, but they were only playing a few shows and he could always wear the same outfit to them, therefore, he only needed a couple extra ones to wear in between and it wasn't like he was a complete idiot. He was more than capable of doing his own laundry, despite the fact that, whenever he could, he'd put it off and his bunk would end up looking like the current state of his bedroom. Picking up his phone, he dialed a quick number, chewing his lip as he listened to the familiar ring back tone, unable to keep from singing along under his breath.

"I'm bringing sexy ba-"

"Must you always serenade me, Brendon? Or is that your form of personal torture that you've decided to dole onto me?" Though the words could be interpreted as harsh, the voice on the other line carried no venom, instead it held thinly masked amusement and fondness for the singer.

"Spencer Smith, I have no idea what to pack. So you need to get those hips made of awesome over here this instant and help me decide my wardrobe." Spencer was the only one that Brendon had kept in regular contact with since the fallout at the cabin. He had made an effort to act as normal as possible around the drummer, but he was pretty sure that the blue-eyed boy wasn't fooled by his forced smile and over-exaggerated hyperactivity. Truth be told, Ryan's words had hurt more than he was willing to let on. They had haunted him at all hours of the day. His dreams were filled with everyone from his mother to Patrick Stump telling him that he was worthless and that his lyrics were meaningless drivel, not worthy of being put on an album of any kind.

"Brendon, you do realize that we're not going to be gone all that long and really, we'll only be doing like, five shows, right?" Brendon pouted on his end of the line, picking at the carpet on his floor, heart sinking in his chest. While he was having slight difficulties deciding his wardrobe, he was missing the company of another human being more. And, though he wouldn't admit even under the promise of a very painful death, he was quite fond of one Spencer Smith. And not just because the man was amazing behind his drum kit. No, while everyone assumed that there was secret action going on between Brendon and Ryan, Brendon was more preoccupado with his drummer, a crush that was a couple years in the making.

"…that one shirt that I got you for your birthday. You know, the cowboy looking one – Brendon? Are you listening to me?" Brendon jerked with a start at the realization that he'd completely spaced out, not paying any attention to what Spencer had been telling him. He opened his mouth to reply, only to have a strangled and odd sound coming from his lips, sounding less like an indignation and more like a fish drowning on air. "Bren?" Even through the one word, Brendon could hear the concern lacing Spencer's voice and he didn't really like it.

"Hm? Oh, sorry, Spin. You mentioned that shirt you got me for my birthday and I got sidetracked thinking of what I could wear it with." Brendon knew his voice sounded falsely cheerful to his own ears, which meant that Spencer would pick up on it right away. He cursed himself mentally, even as he began a silent countdown. Three, two one… Cue Spencer's sigh, one that had Brendon curling in on himself, feeling exposed.

"Bren. Come on. I know you better than that. Don't let them get to you. You know they'll come around and when they do, Ryan will most likely feel like an asshole and he'll do all sorts of stuff to make it up to you. Don't let this get you down. You've never let him stop you before." Brendon wants to tell him that's not true, that he's spent many a night tossing and turning over the words that Ryan had spat at him, how after their very first practice, when he was first introduced to the band, he'd sat in his purple jelly bean van, hands shaking as he tried to recover from under Ryan's wilting gaze and razor-sharp words. He wants to tell Spencer how much Ryan's words mean to him, how all he wants to do is make something of himself, make them proud, make Spencer proud. He somehow suspects that Spencer already knows that though, so he doesn't say anything of the sort. Instead he says,

"I know, Spencer. I'm not dwelling. Honest. I'm just tired. And really frustrated with this whole packing shit. I don't think I have anything that fits anymore. I'm pretty sure that I gained twelve pounds at the cabin." If there's a slight pause as Brendon says the word 'cabin', remembering their last encounter there, neither one mentions it.

"Shut up, Urie. You aren't fat. But, if you get your ass in gear, we might make it to the mall for a last minute shopping spree. I could use a new pair of shoes. Maybe this summer I'll even try and brave those god-awful flip-flops you guys insist on wearing."

There was a definite grin in Brendon's voice as he stood, cradling the phone between his shoulder and neck as he rose, fingers already reaching for his keys and wallet. "Just you wait, Spencer Smith. I will get you into a pair of flip-flops before the summer is out."

"You can try, Urie. You can try."

3.1
Red Bull in hand, Brendon reached with his other to twist the knob on the door of the dressing room, pausing as the rise and fall of voices reached his ears. He cocked his head to the side, pressing his ear to the door to hear better, a frown creasing his brow.

"This can't go on, Ryan." Ah, good old Spencer. Always loyal to a fault.

"C'mon, Spin. He's being ridiculous. It's just a few songs."

"To you. But to him, it means contributing to this band, being more than a pretty face."

"They're stupid."

"They're not your words."

Tense silence followed and Brendon held his breath, waiting for some kind of reply. He could picture the scene easily enough in his head; Ryan, arms crossed over his thin chest, face blank of any emotion, save for his eyes which would be having a silent argument with Spencer, who'd be facing off with Ryan, hip cocked and eyebrow raised. Brendon sighed, inaudibly, and knocked on the door.

"Ten minutes until sound check guys." He walked off, shoulders drooping, heading in the direction of the stage. Maybe a few minutes alone with his piano would do him some good.

Spencer waited with bated breath as he listened to Brendon's footsteps retreat. He turned back to look at Ryan, blue eyes stormy.

"I hope for your sake he didn't hear any of that. You need to get your head out of your ass, and soon, Ross." Spencer swept from the room, fingers already reaching for the ever-present drumsticks, leaving a tight-lipped Ryan in his wake.

3.
"This is another new song that we've been working on and it's about finding that special someone." As they launch into the first bars of the song, Brendon can already tell that they're off, that they've lost the attention of the crowd. Even over the pounding of Spencer's drums, he can hear the quiet murmuring amongst the crowd, and they seem restless, staring up at them with disinterest. It sounds awkward and thrown together hastily, even to his own ears. It should come as no surprise, though, since they've only practiced the song a handful of times, most of which were run through during sound check. He vaguely wonders if Ryan had imagined it to go this way or if the song is really that terrible. If the lyrics that are spilling out of his mouth, full of clichés and sappy romance, are any indication, the song was a flop from the word "go".

Walking off stage to a smattering of applause, Brendon can feel the tension boiling under the surface, just waiting for someone to break. They're barely into the dressing room, water bottles in hand, before Ryan is turning on him, eyes flaring. Even as he braces himself for the verbal onslaught that's soon to come, Brendon can feel himself deflating, already shutting down. It's the same old song and dance with him and Ryan these days; Ryan blaming him for everything and Brendon trying to defend himself, sometimes with Spencer's help. He hates that Spencer jumps in, that he's pit two of the best friends in the world against each other. He can fight his own battles. Honestly.

"What the hell was that?" Brendon winces inwardly, feeling a vague thrill that it didn't show on the outside.

"What are you talking about, Ryan? That last song? I don't know, but it was shit." He knew he shouldn't have taken the bait, but seriously? His little diddies certainly beat that piece of shit that Ryan had just introduced the crowd to. Before the end of the night, it was bound to be on YouTube. Oh joy.

"Shit?! No, Brendon. Your lyrics are shit. Your words are shit. And just now, your performance was shit. So don't go pinning this on me!"

"Ryan-" Spencer was frowning, and Brendon could tell that he was about to step in and try to appease Ryan, to stand up in Brendon's defense.

"No, Spencer. It's okay. Since my performance was so shitty, Ryan, you can find yourself a new lead singer. Because I quit." Brendon turned and walked out of the dressing room, sick satisfaction coursing through him at Ryan's apparent loss of words. He frowned when the door didn't slam shut behind him as he'd planned, the sound of footsteps behind him signaling the reason why.

"Let it go, Spencer. It's over."

"Brendon, come on. Don't do this. Please!"

"Why? So I can stick around and be Ryan Ross' verbal punching bag?!" Brendon turned to face Spencer, catching the blue-eyed boy off-guard. Nostrils flaring, he glared at Spencer, feeling sorry that the drummer had to take the brunt of his anger and frustration. "I'm tired, Spencer. I just can't do it anymore. If he's so fucking wonderful, then he can just sing his own damn lyrics, or find someone else. Because I'm done."

"Don't – don't listen to him, Brendon. He's upset and angry and for whatever reason, he's taking it out on you. We do need you, whether you think so or not. If we didn't, you'd still be playing rhythm guitar and Ryan would still be the lead singer. Please. We'll take some more time off, give us all a little more time to cool. Obviously, there's still some things that need to be hashed out. Please. Just – Don't walk away from us. We need you."

Brendon looked at Spencer for a long moment, calculating and weighing his thoughts. It was true that Ryan's comments and insults were wearing him to the bone. He hadn't slept properly in weeks and even for someone who normally got little to no sleep, it was still hard on his body and it was taking its toll. Three long minutes later, the silence stretched between them like a tight rope, Brendon's shoulders slumped and he nodded once, the pinched worried look easing from Spencer's face. The drummer pulled Brendon into a hug and if it was longer and tighter than usual, neither one bothered to mention it.

4.
"Did you bring Transformers, Spencer? You know how much I love that movie." Brendon was standing in his kitchen, waiting for the popcorn in the microwave to finish. He and Spencer had decided on a movie marathon, since they hadn't been able to get into Angels and Kings for Ryan's twenty-first. Not that it really mattered much to Brendon; something told him he wouldn't really be wanted there anyway. They'd both called and left a voicemail, leaving their birthday greetings, both of which Ryan would probably delete without even listening to. Leaning against the counter, he took his glasses off for a minute, squeezing his eyes shut as he rubbed his forehead, trying to ease away the headache he constantly had. The complete lack of sleep and minimal food was wreaking havoc on his body and the ever-increasing tension and hunger headaches weren't helping. He'd had to resort to glasses because contacts were quickly becoming too painful to wear.

"Yeah, and a few others. I grabbed a little bit of everything before I left the house. And, I even brought some of Ryan's stash, which I pilfered from his drawer when he wasn't looking. Seriously, he needs a better hiding place if he doesn't want anyone to find it. It's not like it takes a ninja to figure out just where – " He hadn't expected Spencer's voice to appear so close to him and jumped slightly, trying to discreetly drop his hand and put his glasses on at the same time. "Hey, you okay, Bren?"

"Hm? Yea, just have a slight headache. I seem to be getting them more these days. I think it's time to get my eyes checked again. Prescription's probably bad." He turned to look at Spencer, a grin splitting his face, trying to reassure the other boy, who seemed too leery about Brendon's response. "Really, Spencer. I'm fine. Nothing I can't handle, I promise." Luckily, the microwave chose that moment to ding, distracting them both for the time being.

"Sweet! Popcorn! Let's get this marathon started." Brendon chuckled at Spencer's enthusiasm and poured the buttery kernels into a bowl before grabbing a few sodas. He walked into the living room Spencer trailing behind him, and set everything down on the coffee table, already covered with movies and snacks and far too many sugary items than should be allowed in Brendon's presence. Brendon flopped onto the couch, Spencer settling in next to him, and he hit the play button on the remote, glad to be spending a night with someone who actually wanted him around. Only minutes into the movie, Brendon was singing along with the opening credits, curled into Spencer's warm side, content.

"I've worked on putting some actual music to the lyrics, Spence," Brendon's voice was quiet, hardly carrying over the sound of the television, though the volume was on low. They were halfway through the movie and the joint Spencer had pilfered from Ryan's and Brendon was calmer, more relaxed. In fact, Spencer was pretty sure he hadn't seen Brendon this unwound in weeks, long before they'd left the cabin, even. Spencer turned his head at the sound of Brendon's voice, passing the joint in his hand. He watched as Brendon inhaled and then let the smoke curl out of his mouth, curls of smoke climbing over his plump lips to disappear into the air.

"Hm, yeah? And?" Spencer hadn't really planned on talking about music tonight, wanting to focus on getting Brendon to have a good time without the constant reminder of Ryan's ignorance hanging over him. Though, he figured that weight on Brendon's shoulder would never completely go away, not until Ryan swallowed his pride and welcomed Brendon and his music. Things had gotten worse since the festivals and Spencer was pretty sure that Brendon hadn't been out of the house much, let along made any attempt to contact Ryan.

"They're good, Spence. Really good." Though he didn't move much, just shifted slightly so he could better look Spencer in the eye, Spencer could hear the earnestness behind Brendon's words. The look his in his eyes was one of tentative pride, hesitant, as if asking for permission to be proud of what he'd accomplished.

"Really?" Spencer inwardly flinched at his surprise, since he had no reason to doubt Brendon's ability. But Brendon didn't react to his surprise at all, just flushed and shrugged, looking away. For a moment, Spencer forgot to breathe, suddenly appreciating Brendon's beauty. (Really, if he was honest with those around him – and himself, most days – he'd been appreciating Brendon's beauty for quite some time. He was just really good at hiding it. Annoyance was easier to fake than letting his adoration shine through.) "That's awesome, Bren. I can't wait to hear them. You better have written me a drum part though, asshole. You know I hate having to work through those myself." There was pride and fondness in his voice, even as he glared playfully at Brendon.

Brendon only shrugged, but Spencer could see the pleased smile forming at the corners of his mouth and he grinned, before grabbing the back of Brendon's neck to pull him close, forehead to forehead. "I don't care what anyone else says, Brendon. I am so proud of you. I think your songs were awesome before, but with music they're going to be even that much better." Spencer was vaguely aware that he wasn't making much sense and doing a beautiful job of mangling the English language. Brendon only beamed, getting distracted by the start of a new song on the television, but his smile uncurled something tight in Spencer's chest but left his heart beating at a steady staccato that had nothing to do with the weed.

4.1
(Brendon wasn't entirely sure how they'd gone from Aladdin to this, but he wasn't complaining, fingers finding purchase in Spencer's hair as he straddled his drummer's lap, hips unconsciously rocking down into the boy underneath him. (Later he would totally blame it all on the weed, for making him lose his inhibitions. In a round-about way it was Ryan's fault, too, since, if he hadn't had the brilliant stroke of genius to get his entire band hooked on the green cannabis, Brendon wouldn't currently be in this situation. Besides, it's not his fault that Spencer makes an even prettier girl after a few hits.) His breathing stuttered at the contact, a small gasp tumbling from his lips. He pulled back to look at Spencer, shy yet wrought with lust, pupils blown, eyes wide as they roved over Spencer's face.

"I – Is this okay? I want. I just. Spencer. The last was whispered almost breathlessly as Spencer nodded and rocked his hips up in one fluid motion, catching Brendon off guard. His fingers dropped from Spencer's hair to fist in his shirt and he leaned down to kiss the other boy's lips, his own hips pressing down, creating more friction between them. The sound of Spencer's small moans and breathy gasps only sent flames licking upon his skin, and he rotated his hips as he pressed them down harder, earning the strangled version of his name fall from Spencer's lips, something that he'd only dreamed about.

"Brenbrenbren." Spencer mumbled into his mouth, his hands gripping Brendon's hips hard, trying to direct him and hold on, desperate for the same contact that Brendon was craving. There was hot breath and slick lips, their pajamas creating a hot friction that was both soothing and constricting. Spencer brought one hand up and tangled it in Brendon's hair, reflexively jerking his wrist hard as Brendon ground his hips down against Spencer's, drawing a gurgled gasp and moan from his singer's lips.

"Spence!" Brendon ground down again, locking his eyes with Spencer, pupils dilated wide open. He was still hesitant, uncertainty implied under the lust, eyes all too open and trusting, taking in Spencer and his similarly large pupils and flushed skin. The drummer's only answer was to arch up against Brendon, their cocks rubbing together, friction hot between them. Brendon leaned down and kissed Spencer hard, biting his bottom lip before licking wetly over it to soothe the ache. He licked into Spencer's mouth, tongue miming the movements of their hips. Minutes passed, where it was all heavy breathing and the slip and slide of tongues and the want of moremoremoreplease and harder, god. Harder! Brendon came first, body going taught, muscles rigid as he came hard inside his boxers, the warmth and intimacy triggering Spencer's own orgasm.

Afterwards, they exchanged lazy, post-coital kisses before turning back to the movie, limbs still intertwined, ignoring the mess in their pants for the time being. As the credits rolled, Spencer chuckled at Brendon's drooping eyes before shutting things down and tugging a lethargic, but willing Brendon to the bedroom. He tucked the other boy in before crawling in behind him, tucking himself as close to Brendon as he could get.

When the next morning stumbled upon them tangled together in Brendon's bed, clothing rumpled and stained with the remnants of the previous night's activities, Brendon had smiled sleepily at Spencer, tugging at the lump in his chest. As Brendon leaned in to kiss him, no doubt ready to pull him down for early morning cuddles, Spencer had rolled out of bed and to his feet, claiming first shower, not ready to deal with the obvious shift in their relationship. Brendon wasn't ready for this, not when he was still reeling from his fights with Ryan. Spencer didn't look back at Brendon as he swept out of the bathroom, already knowing what he'd find; Brendon's face contorted into an expression of hurt that Spencer couldn't stand knowing he'd put there. And when his stoic eyes met Brendon's confused and hurt ones over the rim of his coffee cup, he told himself it was for the best. )

5.
"Where's Brendon?" Spencer could hear the exasperation that colored Ryan's voice. He mentally cursed their lead singer, wishing he wasn't giving Ryan even more ammo to work with. He hadn't seen much of the brunette since The Incident, but he figured that was as much his fault as Brendon's. After that night, he'd tried to back off a little, still offering as much support as he could without necessarily being there all the time in person. He wasn't sure if it worked, but Brendon didn't seem too upset whenever he called and he always carried on a conversation, not just letting Spencer talk his ear off.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon, Ryan. You know that he can get caught up singing in the show-" Spencer was cut off as the object of their conversation walked into the room, mumbling a vague apology to the room in general. Spencer bit his lip to keep from gasping out loud. While Brendon might have been holding conversations on his own, he obviously wasn't taking care of himself. He had dark circles under his eyes, the purple bruising testament to many nights awake on end. He was thinner than the last time Spencer had seen him and there was an unhealthy sheen to his skin that had Spencer concerned.

"How kind of you to join us, Urie," Ryan spat, irritated. Spencer sighed, knowing that they'd get nothing done if they all started arguing. He opened his mouth to try and assuage his guitarist, but Brendon just shrugged it off and stepped up to the mic, blinking blearily. "What are we starting with first?"

As far as recordings go, it wasn't the worst they'd ever done. There were a couple of do-overs when someone would screw up, but that wasn't anything unusual. However, the way Brendon ignored the rest of his band when they took breaks, was. Spencer could understand him avoiding Ryan and Jon, since they seemed to have a personal vendetta against him, especially Ryan. But Brendon refused to talk to him too, instead, spending all his time at the mixing board with the producers or talking to the techs. And when the time came for them to wrap up for the day, Brendon would grab his bag and be gone before Spencer could ever get out from behind his kit.

The cycle continues for the four days they're in the studio and Spencer's stomach sinks farther with each passing day. He knows that he's managed to hurt Brendon just as much as Ryan and Jon. Only, he left him with no one to talk to, to lean on. Which, when he thinks about it, is really worse than anything Ryan and Jon could do to him. For all that Brendon is independent and self-sufficient, he relies heavily on others when he's feeling down or unsure. It always helps just to have that one person to tell him that it's okay. Spencer used to be that person.

Spencer briefly wonders if bitter regret and disappointment had always sat so heavily in his stomach before he's running for the bathroom. He makes it, but only just. As he lays his head on the cool porcelain, he prays to whatever god that he has the strength to fix this and that he hasn't completely broken Brendon.

6.
An incessant ringing was nagging at the corners of Brendon's subconscious, forcing him from his dreamless and restless slumber. Reaching for his phone, Brendon found himself squinting, trying to read the numbers on his clock, the red digits fuzzy without the aid of his glasses. The ringing of his phone, however, was rather familiar and sighing, Brendon answered the offending device.

"Spencer Smith you had better have a good reason for waking me up at whatever time it is." Despite his grumbling, Brendon had actually missed Spencer's voice. Ever since the night of Ryan's birthday party, he hadn't spoken to the blue-eyed drummer much, but only because he wasn't entirely sure that he could make it through an entire conversation without losing his control and throwing himself into Spencer's arms. Or crying, because these days, that was a very probable option.

"Actually, it's Ryan. MTV wants to interview us before the release of 'Nine'. A countdown of sorts. Our flight leaves in two hours, so I'd get a move on it, Urie. Do try not to be late this time." Brendon was left blinking at the phone as the dial tone reached his ears, having not completely comprehended the reasons why Ryan Ross would be calling him, let alone from Spencer's phone. Still, there was some part of him that was giddy with excited relief that Ryan had called him, because perhaps that meant that there was still a chance that things would blow over and they'd go back to their normal banter again, putting all talk of Brendon's songs behind him.

An hour later, Brendon was climbing behind the wheel of his Audi, cruising through the streets of Vegas, mind on autopilot. He wasn't exactly anticipating seeing the guys again, Spencer in particular. The two of them still hadn't discussed Ryan's birthday, but Brendon was pretty sure that Spencer either didn't remember due to the side effects of the weed or that he regretted what had transpired and therefore was fastidiously ignoring it. Even though he was great at keeping the band focused and solving the majority of their problems, when it came to something uncomfortable that directly affected Spencer, he had a good habit of ignoring it, something that frustrated Brendon to no end, especially when he was on the losing end.

Reaching the airport, Brendon quickly maneuvered his car into a parking space before grabbing his bag, locking the door behind him. He tried to look as normal as possible, to hide the many sleepless nights that were hanging all too heavily beneath his eyes, but it next to impossible to hide the fact that he didn't have his usual spring in his step. Looking around the crowded airport as he stepped inside, Brendon couldn't hardly see a thing with his sunglasses on and with a resigned sigh, he perched them on his head. Immediately, he spotted the other three boys, standing in a group with Zach, trying to look as casual as possible. It came as no surprise to Brendon that Jon was there; he'd heard from Spencer that Jon had stayed in Vegas after leaving the cabin so that he and Ryan could work on songs together. Well aren't they just all that and a bag of fucking chips. Brendon forced his negative thoughts to the back of his mind, plastering on a smile, his legs carrying him toward the small cluster, shrinking the distance between them faster than he was ready for.

"Dude. Brendon. I'm surprised you made it on time, since you're notorious for being late." Sighing, Brendon flashed an annoyed smile in Ryan's direction.

"I answered your phone call, didn't I? If you'd waited fifteen seconds longer, you'd know that I'd be here, right on time." Turning to face Zack, Brendon could feel his skin tightening with tension that was building around his band and not for the first time, he asked himself if it was really worth it all. "Are we ready to leave now that I've graced you all with my presence?"

*****
Settling into his seat, Brendon closed his eyes, thankful for a moment's peace. Maybe he'd get lucky and all the guys would leave him alone until they landed and maybe, just maybe he'd even get in a few hours sleep. The weight settling into the seat next to him blew all those thoughts to hell, leaving Brendon to heave another annoyed sigh, cracking one eye open. He was less than surprised to find Spencer looking at him worriedly.

"Spencer. Spencer Smith." Brendon's voice lacked the usual enthusiasm that accompanied any greeting directed towards Spencer, instead exhaustion and fatigue lacing the words. These days, Brendon just couldn't be bothered to rouse enough energy to put his usual perkiness into his body, let alone his voice. It just didn't seem worth it.

"Brendon." Spencer was biting his lip, making him look younger than he was and it sent an odd flutter through Brendon's heart, though he was quick to squish that thought immediately. "Have you slept at all? Or eaten anything? You look like death warmed over at best and you have three pieces of luggage on board, two checked under your eyes. Are you sure you're doing okay? I'm here whenever you need to talk."

Sighing, Brendon found himself shaking his head, though the words were on his tongue, threatening to spill over. Clamping down on the offending appendage, Brendon released a shaky sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I'm just so damn tired, Spencer. I just. I can't. Sleep, that is." Looking up at his drummer, his mouth twisted into a rueful smile, shoulders shrugging in defeat.

Spencer's heart was aching as he looked at the mess that was currently his lead singer and without thinking twice, Spencer offered Brendon a tentative smile, his arms opening in welcome. It was probably a bad idea, but Spencer knew that Brendon was most comfortable if he was sleeping using someone as a human body pillow. Tucking Brendon's face into his neck, Spencer began humming softly.

"Sleep, Bren. I'll wake you when we get there."

*****
As far as interviews went, it wasn't the best one they'd had, but on the same hand, it wasn't the worst. Brendon was begging to differ; it was a downright disaster. Spencer was trailing behind him, no doubt in a nervous twitter as Brendon stormed his way off the set. He knew that Ryan and Jon had been working on songs together, the recording studio was proof of that. He knew that Ryan and Jon had quickly become the best of friends and often disappeared from the world for days as they hatched creative plans together. But Brendon never thought that their current disregard for him would filter over into the public eye.

"I don't get it, Spencer. Do they hate me that much that they have to humiliate me on camera?" Still pacing angrily, Brendon began rubbing the spot on his lower back where Jon had kneed him, not even doubting that it would bruise. "If I would have known that requesting my songs be put this album would create so much drama, I would have just left well enough alone and stayed in the background, like I did on Fever."

"Bren…" Words weren't quick in coming for Spencer, something that didn't happen often. But he honestly didn't know what to say. It probably would have saved Brendon a lot of trouble if he would have just left well enough alone, but on the same token, Spencer was immensely proud of the songs that Brendon had written. No, they didn't contain long and detailed metaphors like Ryan's songs usually did, but they were songs that were so distinctly Brendon, you couldn't help but smile just when listening to them.

"I know I've said this a million times, but ignore them. You have to. I know they're going to come around, even if I have to kick Ryan's scrawny ass myself. But they will. And they're going to love your songs once they hear them. For whatever reason, they need this time to bond and be manly douchebags. So let them. In the end, you'll still come out on top." It wasn't the most eloquent speech ever made, but it had Brendon giving a him a smile, even if it was a shadow of his usual one, but still, Spencer was counting it as a success.

"Thanks, Spencer. I know I'm just being over-sensitive, but it sucks sometimes, you know?" Shrugging his shoulders, Brendon suppressed a wince in favor of offering Spencer a wry smile. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. I'm just super tired these days. I'm sure the lack of sleep isn't really helping my emotions any."

The smile on Brendon's face wasn't exactly reassuring, but Spencer just offered him one of his own, nodding. "We're rooming together tonight. Think you might be able to get in some actual shut-eye before our flight tomorrow? I promise I'll keep the bed bugs at bay."

A million and one red flags made themselves known in Brendon's brain, telling him that it would be a repeat of Ryan's birthday and things would only end in disaster, but Brendon could never find it in himself to Spencer no. So against his better judgment, Brendon found himself nodding in agreement.

"I plan to hold you to that, Spencer Smith. You'll be my knight in shining armor." And I will always be the damsel in distress.

6.1
"Hey, Ryan? Have you seen what all the fans think of yours and Jon's antics?" Spencer raised his eyes from his computer screen to look up at his best friend. The only reason he'd agreed to come over was because they just happened to share the same interior decorator, and for whatever reason, Spencer had her best interests in his invested time. (Ryan was a force to be reckoned with when he was on a warpath and heaven forbid you tell him that his paisley shirt would not match the kitchen décor.)

"What antics, Spence? And no, I haven't."

"They're calling it the 'Ryan and Jon Club'. Seems they're convinced that you guys are assholes to Brendon and that he's looking sad these days. They're worried he's going to quit the band and then where would Panic be?" Raising a knowing eyebrow at Ryan, he gazed at him for a long moment, trying to gauge his reaction. "But then, I guess that's not too far from the truth, is it, Ryan? Damn those fan girls for being so damn observant," Spencer closed his laptop and leveled his gaze at Ryan. It was a long moment before the skinny guitarist spoke, but Spencer could hear the slight uncertainty in his voice, saw the deflation in his shoulders.

"Are his songs really that good, Spence? You've heard them, haven't you?"

"What do you think I've been trying to tell you for the past year, Ryan? They're good. They might be short and not have complex metaphors in them, but that's what makes them so Brendon. They're a piece of who he is, how he contributes to this band," Spencer sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You and Jon should just listen to them. I think you'd be amazed. Brendon looks up to you, Ryan. He always has. He just wants to do something right by you. Can't you just give him something?"

"Oh." Spencer watched the light bulb click on over Ryan's head and Spencer smiled wryly. "I really have been a douchebag, haven't I?"

"The king of them. Though, Jon's been trying to keep up in ranks as well. I still can't believe he tried to kick him off his chair," Spencer scowled, recalling the incident before smiling fondly at his best friend, though it was tinged with a bit of sadness. At least Brendon would be getting what he wanted; the world needed to hear Brendon's upbeat lyrics and catching tunes.

"You talk to him at all recently, Spin?" Spencer blinked back into the present, confusion awash on his face for a mere moment before a cool mask took its place. He knew he couldn't fool Ryan, but he'd keep up the charade as long as possible.

"Who?" Ryan sighed, shaking his head.

"And you say that I'm a douchebag. Spencer, have you told him you love him, yet?" Spencer rolled his eyes, but the sadness that settled around his shoulders gave him away. Ryan's voice softened and he leaned down to press his forehead to Spencer's. "You have to fix this, Spencer. Tell him. Because I'm not sure that songs are going to be enough anymore." Kissing his best friend's temple, Ryan stood and made his way out of the living room and into the kitchen where his designer waited, leaving Spencer to his thoughts.

7.
Angels and Kings was crowded for a Thursday night, even with the Celebratory-Album-Drop Party – leave it to Pete to extend his love for long titles into something at menial as a party-- and Spencer wasn't sure that he felt comfortable in his own skin. He was constantly bumping into people and there always seemed to be someone pressed up against him, leaving him feeling like he was being blatantly violated. (Gabe swears on the Cobra's Holy Venom that he would "never, ever use the crowded room as an excuse to cop a feel, Spencer Smith. That's just a waste of time when he can just come right up and ask Spencer to fuck him, right?" It took all of Spencer's will power not to knock Gabe out with his empty beer bottle. Instead he'd said, "Run. Fast, Saporta," using his best bitch face. He was actually surprised it had worked.)

Finding a less crowded corner, Spencer let his gaze wander around the club, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips at the antics of his friends, his family. Ryan was talking animatedly to Joe Trohman, no doubt discussing the possible uses for weed, ones that might further his bands ingenuity. Spencer snorted at that, shaking his head slightly. Of course, Jon was in a raucous rendition of "Livin' La Vida Loca" with William and the rest of the Academy guys, having surpassed his drinking limit shortly after they'd arrived. (Of course, the mini-bar in the hotel and the limousine certainly hadn't played any part in his intoxication, no, sir.) Spencer was more than a little horrified when Jon got on the table to dance, urged on by the catcalls of their friends. As a flash went off somewhere to Jon's right, Spencer caught the eye of Tom Conrad and he grinned, glad that proof of Jon's evening would forever be captured on film.

Spencer hadn't seen much of Brendon throughout the night. After their last confrontation, Spencer was pretty sure that Brendon didn't ever want to see him again, though he was going to do his best to try and fix things. God, he was such an idiot.

7.1
Come on, Urie. It's not that difficult. Just tell him, get it off your chest. Brendon mentally scolded himself as he padded down the hallway, his stomach a jumble of nerves that wound itself tighter and tighter the closer he got to Spencer's room. Brendon had been doing a lot of thinking in the months after The Incident and he was pretty sure that if he could live with Spencer's rejection then, it couldn't be so much harder to tell him how he felt. Besides, who knew? Maybe Spencer felt the same way. Yeah, right, Ross. That was the last time that Brendon was going to get high with Ryan and then discuss life and love with him. "Just because your love is so fucking peachy," Brendon muttered darkly, exhaling a frustrated puff air. He glanced up briefly, surprised to find that he was already in front of Spencer's door, his feet having lead him there as if on autopilot. Brendon chewed his lip nervously, fidgeting slightly. He raised his hand to knock, blinking in surprise when the door opened from the other side.

"Brendon!" Brendon swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as he gazed at a pair of brown eyes that most certainly were not Spencer's. He was accosted suddenly, thin arms thrown around his neck as the body belonging to the eyes embraced him tightly, pulling him in for a firm hug. For such a small thing, she sure had a lot of strength to her.

"H-Hey, Hales. How are you? I-I didn't know you were in town." Brendon tried to control his breathing, not wanting to cause her any alarm. He half-heartedly returned the hug, once again fighting against the sour taste in his mouth.

"I'm great! I'm in town for the party, actually. Spencer invited me. Oh!" Her eyes went wide and she blushed, standing aside a little. "I'm so sorry. I bet you're here to see him. He's in the shower at the moment; we're going to go sight-seeing. But you can come in and wait for him, talk to him while he's getting ready." Her eyes were hopeful and sincere, but Brendon just shook his head.

"Nah, I'm fine. I was just going to see if he wanted to play a quick round of Guitar Hero. I'll go bug Jon," he flashed her a smile, waved and then headed off back down the hallway the way he'd come. Spencer came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel from his waist downwards as he dug through his suitcase, looking for clothes.

"Who was that? I thought we didn't have anything to do today?" He frowned, trying to decide if he should just dress for the party now, or wait until they'd come back.

"Spencer James Smith V!" Startled blue eyes jerked up as Haley stalked towards him, a woman on a mission. "Is there a particular reason why you haven't told that boy you love him, yet?" Spencer groaned inwardly and his shoulders slumped.

"There hasn't been time, Hales. Things are just – god, they were so fucked up and now they're smoothing out. I just haven't. It hasn't been the right time. I'm going to tell him tonight, Haley. I promise." I just hope I'm not too late.

8.
"You do know that thinking too much creates premature wrinkles, right?" Spencer jumped at the sound of a soft voice in his ear, nearly spilling his drink, turning to face a very amused Brendon.

"Bren! You startled me. I was just looking for you." Spencer offered him a tentative smile and resisted the urge to reach out and touch the other boy. Brendon hadn't changed much, but he looked healthier, happier. Ryan and Jon taking the time to listen to his music and agree to put it on the album-all the while doling out praises in between "I'm am so sorry I was such an asshole"- had really turned Brendon's disposition around. "So. We made it." Spencer said, raising his beer bottle in a toast, clinking it against Brendon's glass. "To new beginnings. And rockin' awesome songs." Spencer was grinning widely at Brendon, who returned it easily. Suddenly, the air around them seemed thicker than a minute before and Spencer found himself leaning in, pressing his dry lips to Brendon's before he even registered what he was doing. The brunette tasted of liquor and a hint of residual cigarette smoke, a habit that Brendon had picked up shortly before they'd left the cabin. Looking back on it now, Spencer couldn't believe how far they'd come, that so much turmoil and angst had happened in such a short amount of time. Brendon was quick to respond before pulling back, albeit reluctantly, leaving Spencer to gaze at him in confusion.

"Wait. Just. Come with me. I have something that I want to show you." Smiling softly, Brendon took Spencer's hand, leading him up the staircase at the back of the club to Pete's private room. Shutting the door behind them, Brendon kept his fingers intertwined with Spencer's as he led him over to the couch in the middle of the room. He nodded towards it before reaching over and grabbing an acoustic guitar, settling down on the cushion opposite Spencer.

"There's one song that didn't make it on the album." Brendon held up his hand as Spencer went to comment, shaking his head slightly. "It wasn't because of Ryan. It was my choice. Because I didn't think it was fair that it should end up as a public announcement when the person it was intended for hasn't even heard it yet." Brendon was smiling again at Spencer before strumming his guitar, settling into the opening chords with practiced ease.

"It took me some time to write these words, and man, they weren't easy to find." Brendon's voice was soft and mellow, rising and falling easily with the tempo set by his nimble fingers. "They don't have long-winded speeches and they won't bring down the moon, but I hope they're enough to say, 'I love you'." Spencer's throat got dry at those words and there was a sudden, suspicious pricking at the corners of his eyes, but he ignored them, pushing back his emotions, his hand gripping his bottle tightly as he let Brendon's words wash over him.

"My arms were empty and these days were oh so dark. I was a drowning man, caught in my ocean of doubt. But suddenly, you were there for me, angel to save my damned soul." So the words were cliché, but they were so Brendon that Spencer couldn't picture them in any other form. When it came down to it, Brendon was stripped and bare, wearing his heart on his sleeve. It was who he was and that's what made Spencer love him as much as he did. "We've come so far to let words get in the way, so I'm laying down my pen tonight and offering me instead. I know it ain't much, but it's all that I have. Just give me this last chance and I'll love you - till the end."

As the last notes trailed off, Spencer gazed at Brendon with such longing and adoration in his eyes that it almost threw Brendon, shifting his balance for a moment. Instead, he leaned in and accepted the kiss that Spencer so willingly offered. "I love you too, Bren."

*****
Later, as they lay curled into each other on the floor of Pete's suite, listening to the sounds of the club below them, Spencer pulled Brendon closer to him and kissed his temple, whispering into his ear with his lips brushing lightly over the shell: "I know I've said it before, Bren, but I really am so so proud of you." Brendon smiled and leaned up to press a soft kiss to Spencer's mouth, because, really? That's all that mattered in the end.

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