Danie (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} danimpa) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} patdolym_shadow,@ 2008-09-06 23:42:00 |
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Team Spencer: All is Fair in Love and War [2/2]
Resistentialism
“I'm thinking that we scrap this whole thing,” Jon says over pizza.
Ryan really, really can't cook, apparently. He spent three hours making curry --- it was a weird orange color that none of them had seen in even the most eclectic Indian restaurant, and it smelled like wet dog --- before he gave up and ordered pizza. Ryan ordered salad, too, but Spencer's the only one eating it.
Jon's munching on a slice of plain cheese, and he keeps stealing mushrooms off Ryan's piece. Ryan would make more of a protest, but he doesn't like mushrooms much anyway. Jon knows this; he figures he's doing Ryan a favor, since Ryan would just pick them off himself and they'd go to waste.
Spencer hums around a mouthful, he's been thinking the same thing for a while, but Ryan says, “No way, asshole. I worked hard on those lyrics.”
“And they're very nice lyrics,” Jon replies, “but this sucks.” His voice is light; he's teasing.
Ryan isn't really offended when he says, “I am wounded, Jon Walker, wounded by your words. Hey, alliteration.” Ryan grins because he's a dork and loves that kind of thing, and Jon smiles with him.
“Um. Did something happen when I wasn't paying attention?” Brendon asks, looking at the two of them curiously.
Jon sends him a questioning look, and Brendon rushes to explain. “Well, I, you're all---And it's great that you're getting along, you know, since, we. I totally agree with you, but... But, why?” Brendon isn't making much sense, really, but Jon isn't stupid, and he figures out what Brendon means pretty quickly.
“Ryan kissed me, in a final last-ditch effort to make me stay, and everything felt pretty okay, after that.”
Spencer nearly drops his fork. He can't breathe. “Um,” Brendon says. “Are you two, like, a couple?”
Ryan looks mortified. “God, no.” He turns towards Jon, batting Jon's hand away from his pizza when Jon goes for a black olive. “That was a terrible explanation, Jon. That's not what happened at all,” Ryan says, not really angry, mostly just fondly annoyed.
“It sort of is,” Jon says simply. Spencer can't breathe, what the fuck. Brendon looks mildly shocked.
“You and Jon?” Brendon asks. “But I thought... I thought you...”
“No. No, Jesus, you don't listen,” Ryan sighs. “Me and Jon have an understanding--Why did you tell them that? God, I don't know how to explain it,” Ryan says. He's embarrassed, Spencer can tell. Jon grins like he knows something the rest of them don't.
“Ryan thought if he threw himself at me I'd stay,” Jon says.
Brendon makes a horrified noise, says, “You're leaving?” He sounds broken and sad and hurt, so suddenly that Jon is confused as to where he went wrong.
“No!” Ryan exclaims. “No. Not anymore.” That one is definitely a question again, Jon thinks. Spencer's knuckles are white; he's gripping the plastic fork so hard.
“No, I'm not, don't worry,” Jon says. “Fuck, this is fucked up. I'm not leaving.”
Brendon looks between Jon and Ryan, lips pulled into a tight line. “Okay,” he says, a long time later, once Ryan's started eating again.
Eventually Jon wanders off to watch TV. “I'm leaving,” he says before he goes, “But do not worry, I'll be back. No need to take off your clothes, Ryan.”
Ryan blushes and throws an insult back, but Spencer can't hear it over the rush in his ears. Brendon laughs, though, so Spencer thinks it must've been pretty good.
Brendon gets up, says, “I'm going outside, be back in a little while.” Spencer thinks Brendon's going to call his mom, maybe. Or maybe he's just going for a walk; it'd be understandable. Spencer thinks he could use a walk. He needs to get out of the house; he wants to kill Jon. Or Ryan. Or both of them, the motherfuckers.
Ryan gets up a minute later, grabbing Brendon and Jon's plate and taking them into the kitchen.
“You done?” he asks.
“N'a minute,” Spencer replies. Ryan goes into the kitchen and Spencer lets out a shuddering breath, finally unclenching his hand from around the fork. There are red lines from where the metal cut into his skin.
And that had been that.
-
Jon leans against the wall, waiting for Spencer to finish in the bathroom.
When Spencer comes out, breath clean and minty fresh, so many expressions flit over his face, Jon can't even begin to guess what Spencer's feeling.
“He kissed you, what the fuck,” Spencer says, backing Jon against the wall. There's pissed as fuck, definitely, Jon decides, but there's also something that sounds like jealousy in Spencer's voice, and Jon doesn't really know what to do with that.
Huh, jealousy, Jon thinks. Maybe Ryan should write a song about this, instead of harbors or ships or whatever the hell it was.
Jon holds Spencer's gaze until Spencer deflates, and looks away. Jon doesn't, though. He keeps scrutinizing Spencer, wondering who he's jealous of. Me or Ryan? Does Spencer wish Ryan kissed him, or that he kissed Jon?
Spencer feels vaguely uncomfortable under Jon's gaze, and finally, when he can't take it anymore, says, “So. I'm sorry. But like, the fuck?”
“Yeah,” Jon responds flatly. “I don't know.”
“And like, I know, I was an asshole, but you and Ryan were all chummy, and so like. What the hell? He kissed you and instead of it getting awkward you became best friends all of a sud---” Spencer cuts himself off abruptly.
Jon doesn't know what's going on. Does Spencer think Jon's replacing him? Does Spencer want to kiss Ryan? Does Spencer want to kiss Jon? Jon can't even begin to imagine that any of those could be a possibility.
Finally, Jon says, “I can understand if you hate me now, I guess.” He doesn't sound like he understands at all, but Spencer doesn't call him on it. “But what did I do earlier, on the hike?” He sounds tired, almost. Tired and confused, which Jon is, but. “The orange?” It's seriously the only think Jon can even fathom he did wrong.
“No, it wasn't the...” Spencer mumbles. Jon almost misses it when Spencer whispers, quiet as Jon's ever heard him, “It was just our thing.”
“Oh,” Jon says. Oh. He doesn't. He didn't even think that--- “Okay. So you probably don't want us to go with y'all on the hike tomorrow?”
Spencer's face is so bitchy Jon thinks that they'll probably be friends again before he knows it.
-
Jon finds Brendon eating ice cream straight from the carton in the kitchen, and the worst part isn't that Brendon's double dipping (they share everything, anyway) it's that it's almost empty and this will be the fifth carton Brendon's finished since they've been at the cabin.
“Gimme,” Jon says, reaching for Brendon's hands. He grabs a spoon out of the drawer, intent on sharing.
Brendon gives him a pointed look. “Not for anything, Walker.”
“Gimme,” Jon repeats, slinking forward.
Brendon makes an alarmed noise. “You are not stealthy, Jon Walker!” he yelps. He takes a step back anyway.
Jon licks his lips, holding his spoon as menacingly as one can hold a spoon, and pounces.
Brendon squeals and dissolves into a fit of giggles, sinking to the floor and pulling Jon with him. Somehow, Jon ends up in Brendon's lap, and the ice cream ends up rolling halfway across the kitchen floor.
“Damn it,” Brendon says. “Get off me.”
“No way,” Jon glares. “You're faster than me; if I get up you'll totally get the ice cream first.”
Brendon pauses. “This is true.”
They look at each other a long time, before Jon breaks the silence with, “Did you still want to go on the hike tomorrow?”
Brendon grins, “Yeah! It sounds awesome. I can't wait.”
Fuck, Jon thinks. “Oh, okay, uh.” Jon tries to think of something other than, 'Spencer is in love with Ryan' and fails miserably. “Can we maybe... not?” Jon asks.
Brendon looks confused. “Why not?”
“Because...” Jon says vaguely. “Because I hurt my leg. And it. Hurts.”
“Um,” Brendon says. “I'm sorry. Do you need some ice?”
“...I.” Fuckfuckfuck, Jon thinks. This is not going splendidly. “I don't want to be all alone in the cabin?” Jon accidentally makes it a question, but he can tell from the way Brendon's face softens that he thinks Jon is embarrassed, not that Jon's pulling this out of his ass.
“Like I was this morning?” Brendon says, amused, but there's no hint of bitterness. He's just teasing.
“Yeah,” Jon says. “I bet it sucked.”
“It did, oh my God,” Brendon says empathetically. “I was so bored.”
Jon watches the puddle of melted Phish Food ice cream grow while Brendon rambles about how he passed the time all alone this morning.
Jon interrupts with, “So you'll stay?”
“Of course I'll stay,” Brendon says so earnestly Jon feels bad for lying to him.
-
Spencer wants to fucking scream at Ryan when he opens the door that night. He has half a mind to tell Ryan he's a slut or slap him or maybe just yell a lot. Something. Seriously, what the fuck, Spencer thinks.
But Ryan looks tired, and Spencer gives up way too Goddamn easily. Spencer just rolls to the far edge of the bed when Ryan slips in.
Spencer manages a full thirty minutes before he rolls over and draws Ryan to his chest. Spencer could tell from the way Ryan's breathing was perfectly even that he was freaking out. There was no way Spencer would let himself be the cause of that.
Spencer already knows he's fucked, thank you.
-
Brendon and Spencer are sprawled out on the back deck, Brendon's doodling something rich and red with his colored pencils. Spencer's sprawled a few feet away from him. Spencer tried to use one of the pencils for a grocery list, once, and Brendon growled at him. When Ryan whispered to him that they cost over a dollar each, Spencer thought that maybe that was an okay reason for acting like a lunatic. He's still mostly afraid of Brendon whenever he has them out, and Spencer usually ends up staying as far away as he can without looking like he's purposely keeping his distance.
“So Ryan's sleeping with you?” Brendon asks innocently, suddenly.
Spencer freezes; marks his place in his book to cover his stillness. “Well, yeah, you burned his fucking quilt.” Spencer knows he sounds defensive. “What is he supposed to do? Freeze?”
“I totally didn't,” Brendon retorts.
“You totally did,” Spencer disagrees, with less conviction than before. Brendon looks serious, at least serious for Brendon. Spencer thinks about it. Brendon doesn't even blink while Spencer pauses.
“You didn't?” he finally asks.
“Check under Ryan's bed,” is all Brendon says before going back to coloring.
-
Spencer can't look under Ryan's bed. He doesn't want to know what it means if it's there ---- if all this time Ryan's been sleeping with him because... Because why? Why the hell would he kiss Jon if he wanted Spencer? It doesn't make sense. Brendon's on crack or something, there's no way he's right.
Spencer refuses to think about how often Brendon is right. He predicted every one of their break-ups, except Jon's --- Jon's scarily good at pretending everything is fine --- but this is different, Spencer reasons. There's a difference between the end of relationships and the beginning.
Spencer doesn't want to think about it; all of this is making his head hurt.
-
Jon runs his fingers across the spines of the books, looking for a familiar title. There aren't any.
“They're all bad romance 'novels',” Brendon says. “And really, really shitty sci-fi things.”
“Oh my god, Brendon,” Jon grins. “Best title ever: The Curse of the Vampire-Dragon.”
“Wait, seriously?” Brendon asks, laughing. “I didn't see that one! Give it here.”
“Hold on,” Jon replies. He tries to slide the book out of the bookshelf, but it barely moves --- even though the shelf isn't very full. “What the heck...” Jon mumbles, tugging hard. The bookshelf wobbles, and on the second pull, tips over with a loud crash --- right on top of Jon.
“Shit!” Brendon yelps. He sits up, scrambling across the room and pull the shelf off of Jon. “Are you okay?” he asks, concern dripping from his voice. Jon looks okay, mostly bewildered and covered in books.
“Yeah, fine, I ju---Manticore vs. Centaur? Seriously, what?” Jon sits up, books shifting and sliding off him while he moves.
“What the fuck is going on down there?!” Ryan screams from upstairs.
“The bookshelf tried to kill me for making fun of it!” Jon screams back.
“What?!”
“Stop yelling!” Spencer's voice comes from somewhere near the kitchen.
“You're yelling too, asshole!” Brendon joins in, just as loudly as the rest of them.
“I'm yelling because I'm angry, it's a legit reason to scream!”
“Why are you angry?!” Jon asks.
“All the fucking spoons are gone!”
“What!?”
“I know!”
“There totally were spoons yesterday!” Jon yells. “Me and Brendon ate the ice cream with them!”
“You assholes! I wanted some of that!” Spencer cries, anguished.
“Well you couldn't find a spoon for it anyway!” Jon reasons.
“Whatever.” Spencer says loudly, halfway pissed off at Brendon and Jon, but mostly annoyed at the lack of spoons.
Jon pushes the books off of his legs, and stands up. He gathers a handful of books and shoves them inside the bookcase, when the shelf promptly falls down.
“Shit,” Jon swears. He puts the shelf back on its hooks and stacks the books neatly. This time, the shelf holds. Jon shakes his head. “Happy?” Jon mutters, as if he expects a response.
“Jesus Christ,” Brendon breathes, “what the hell is up with this place?”
-
That night, it's probably only awkward on Spencer's part, but he thinks he could cut the tension with a knife. Ryan's bony, but somehow not uncomfortable. Is it normal to cuddle this much with one's best friend? Spencer can't help but wonder. Is it normal to want to sleep with your best friend when he's kissing other boys behind your back? Spencer wants to know. He wants to take back the thought right away --- Ryan is allowed to kiss whoever he wants. Sometimes, though, a small part of Spencer's brain wishes that 'whoever' was him.
Ryan is already asleep, his arm thrown carelessly over Spencer's shoulder and his face buried into Spencer's chest. He's sleeping peacefully, and --- Spencer thinks it before he can stop it --- he looks adorable. When Ryan's sleeping he's unconcerned with everything, there's no darting eyes or shifty smiles. He just looks serene, a small, unselfconscious smile curled on his lips. Ryan breathes quietly, mumbling nonsense as he sleeps. It's really sort of precious.
Spencer's been falling asleep quickly these past few nights, so he hasn't really had a chance to really appreciate Ryan in his unconscious state. He's always thought Ryan looks the most gorgeous when he's sleeping. --- Spencer might as well admit that he thinks Ryan's gorgeous, now. Jon knows, Brendon knows; it's only Ryan who's clueless enough to stay out of the loop.
“Spencer,” Ryan mumbles, voice laced with grogginess and dreams. “I missed you.”
Spencer feels wrong, like he's eavesdropping. The worst part is there's nothing he can do. If he moves he'll wake Ryan, and beyond not wanting to disturb Ryan's peace, he doesn't want to have to explain why he had to leave in the first place. 'Oh, yeah, you were dreaming about me and it made me uncomfortable, sorry man.' Spencer can see how well that would go down. He doesn't want to be that guy, either. The one uncomfortable with hugs a millisecond longer than the established two-point-five second bro hug, or, like, his best friend talking about him in his----
“It's not tha', I mean.” Ryan shifts. “Spin? ...Spin? Spencer!” Suddenly, Ryan's shaking, twisting against Spencer. He's having a nightmare, Spencer realizes belatedly. There's about two and a half seconds of shock --- enough time for one bro hug, Spencer thinks, lips curling --- before Spencer pulls Ryan into his arms, shushing and rocking him, trying to calm him down. Ryan's distraught. He's frowning, worry lines are suddenly etched all over his face, and he's clammy, covered in a cold sweat.
“Shhh, shh, I'm here. I'm here, Ryan. It's okay, don't worry. You're okay, you're okay,” Spencer rambles nonsensically, trying to stop Ryan from freaking out as much as he's trying to stop himself from freaking out.
“Spence?” Ryan asks tentatively, just barely asleep.
“I'm here, I'm here,” Spencer replies automatically.
“Okay,” Ryan says, blinking. And then, smaller, softer, “I know.”
-
Spencer watches the skip of Ryan's fingers on the neck of his guitar. When he concentrates, Ryan bites his lip, and there's a tightness to his shoulders that's only there when he's trying his best not to fuck things up. Spencer's fingers itch to massage that tension away. When Ryan comes to bed that night – God, Spencer's such a girl for the little flutter his heart did at thinking about it like that – Spencer wants to rub his thumbs along the ridge of Ryan's neck, to knead the knots out until Ryan's melted into the bed, relaxed and content. The image is really hard to get out of his head, and Spencer keeps fucking up the beat, distracted by the idea of Ryan spread out just for him.
He's still irrationally afraid some other inanimate object is going to try to kill Ryan, anyway. It's not like Spencer was focused to begin with.
-
“Spencer is obviously hopeless,” Brendon says to Jon. Spencer's sitting on the couch, reading.
“Um,” Jon says. “He's...?”
“Hopeless. He's completely in love with Ryan and refuses to acknowledge it.”
“Am not,” Spencer says too quickly. And then, “Stop talking about me like I'm not here; it's tacky.”
“It's not, because I'm not talking about you like you're not here. I'd have to explain this all to you later, anyway, I'm just killing two birds with one stone,” Brendon explains earnestly. Spencer raises an eyebrow. Jon looks lost.
Jon asks, “What do I have to do with this? Wait. Since when do you even know about Spencer's unrequited love?”
Brendon snorts. “Definitely not unrequited. Anyway,---Wait, when did you find out?”
“I don't know. A little less than a week?” Jon furrows his brows. “The night Ryan tried to make curry.”
Brendon looks appalled. “Why didn't you tell me? What if I hadn't figured this out? Who would have helped Spencer and Ryan then?”
“I wouldn't. I have no idea how I would even bring that up,” Jon says.
Brendon flails at him, a little. “We're on the same team here, Jon! You've gotta help me out sometimes.”
“I think they would have figured it out,” Jon mumbles eventually.
“You think?” Brendon deadpans. “Ryan obviously has no idea what he's doing.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Spencer defends.
“I need your help,” Brendon says to Jon. “I'm going to court you.”
Jon and Spencer both say, “What?” at exactly the same time.
“I am hoping Spencer will follow our good example!”
“What makes you think I'm going to follow your example?” Spencer looks vaguely amused.
“Don't worry, you naturally look up to me, Spence---”
“Besides the fact that I'm taller than you?” Spencer asks, smiling.
“---Shut up. And Ryan has been following Jon around like a puppy recently. It'll be a piece of cake.” Spencer's amusement dissolves. Brendon's kind of a douche sometimes.
“Shut the fuck up, Brendon,” Spencer says quietly, glaring. It's all he can do not to punch Brendon in the face.
“The hardest part will be getting Ryan to realize you're ridiculous about him, but hey, I think Jon can probably get Ryan to see the light!”
“Please, just,” Spencer tries.
At the same time, Jon says, “Brendon,” and then, “Stop talking over me, Smith. Just 'cause Brendon's a dumbass doesn't mean you don't have to respect me.” There isn't even a pause when Jon changes subjects. “How is one courted, exactly?”
“It's very simple, really,” Brendon says, before asking, very seriously, “What kind of flowers do you prefer? I mean, all you have to do is swoon, really. Be a good example for Ryan. I'm afraid he's worse than Spencer.”
“Oh, Brendon!” Jon does his best imitation of Scarlet O' Hara. “I'll try ever so hard.”
Brendon bursts out giggling, but stops abruptly. “Wait. Why am I a dumbass?”
Spencer can't help it, he starts giggling too.
-
“This is for you,” Brendon grins, holding a daisy out towards Jon.
“Why thank you, Brendon,” Jon says simply, taking the flower out of his hand.
Ryan looks up from the TV, obviously amused. “Why the fuck are you giving Jon flowers?”
“Shhhhhh. I'm courting him, Ryan,” Brendon says. “Don't ruin the moment!”
Spencer muffles a giggle as he walks into the room. He didn't actually expect Brendon to do anything. “You're what?” Ryan asks, glancing over at Spencer and waving. Spencer's just wearing his pajama pants, slung low around his waist. Ryan stares just a second too long.
Spencer doesn't notice, but Brendon's lips curl triumphantly.
-
Brendon keeps up the act, pushing Jon's chair in for him and serving him dinner and giving him flowers at least twice every day. Brendon is a total gentleman, and treats Jon like a queen.
“King,” Jon insists when Spencer voices his opinion.
They're all out on the back deck. It's hot, even up here in the mountains, what the fuck. Spencer's popsicle is melting, and he keeps having to lick the lime flavored juice off his knuckles.
“Do you want anything?” Brendon asks as he gets up. “I'm gonna go get a napkin.” He licks between his fingers absently. “Mmm, I'm orange flavored.” He grins and slips in the sliding door.
Brendon comes back a few minutes later with sunscreen. “You're going to burn Jon, sitting out here in the sun! I wouldn't want to blemish your fair skin with such harsh rays!” In addition to the gentleman act, Brendon's been imitating a Southern accent off and on. He's horrible at it, but Jon's Southern Belle is actually scarily convincing.
Jon lets Brendon put sunscreen on his back --- he's shirtless, and pinker than usual. Brendon was right in bringing out the sunscreen.
Spencer's watching the pair --- and trying unsuccessfully to suppress a laugh, --- when Ryan takes half his popsicle in his mouth and bites down. Spencer tries not to openly stare, but Ryan's lips are wet and stained red while he crunches on the ice.
“Maybe you should be paying attention, Spencer. You just might learn something,” Jon says cheekily. Brendon laughs like the traitor that he is.
Ryan says, “Hm?”
-
Ryan stumbles into the kitchen. Spencer isn't even up yet (understandably, Spencer didn't want to hike this morning. Ryan didn't either) so Ryan has no idea why Brendon, of all people, is up.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asks. “At seven-thirty in the morning?”
Brendon looks up and smiles. “Morning, sleepy. I'm making cupcakes.”
Ryan walks into the kitchen, eyeing Brendon's baking. “Why so early? And, also, you can bake?”
“Yes, I can bake, Ryan,” Brendon rolls his eyes. “I couldn't sleep. Why are you up, anyway?”
Ryan doesn't tell Brendon that Spencer has a habit of sprawling on top of him, which is usually fine, except right now, Ryan is sore everywhere, and having a Spencer pressing into his bruises was uncomfortable to say the least. Instead Ryan says, “I dunno. Maybe I smelled your cooking.”
Ryan leans over Brendon's shoulder to read what he's icing on the cupcakes and promptly bursts out laughing. “What... What?” Ryan wheezes. “Oh, God, what are you... Brendon.”
Brendon stops piping and turns his head to look at Ryan. “What?” he asks innocently.
“You're... What? Are you seriously making blowjob cupcakes?” Ryan asks, before losing his composure again and breaking into another fit of laughter.
“No!” Brendon squeaks. “Why would you...? I'm making Brendon and Jon cupcakes!” He looks back and forth, between Ryan and the cupcakes, eyes lingering on the B and J he'd written inside a heart on the tops of the cakes. “Oh my God,” Brendon says, realizing. “Oh my God! I... I totally didn't!”
Ryan wishes he had a camera; Brendon's face is priceless.
-
Brendon and Jon sit down on either side of Ryan at exactly the same time. Ryan shoots a worried glance at Spencer, who's in the big chair, reading a book.
“We want to trash the whole thing,” Brendon says seriously, eyes wide.
“Um. We already had this conversation?” Ryan tries.
“No, I mean---we mean, seriously. Let's just scrap it.”
“It's not that it's bad, or anything,” Jon adds when he sees Ryan open his mouth. “I mean, it's great, but we're not getting anywhere. We need to start over, give ourselves a clean slate.”
“Wha---” Ryan starts.
“This isn't fun,” Brendon says.
“This is work,” Spencer observes, setting his book down. “It's not supposed to be fun.”
Except all of them know it's supposed to be fucking fun.
“Can I think about it?” Ryan says, “And Spencer too, yeah?” He looks at Spencer. His eyes kind of say ‘side with me so I don't look like an asshole who thinks he decides the whole fate of the band.’ Or something. Spencer's good at reading Ryan's eyes.
“We should all think about it,” Spencer agrees.
-
Ryan's sulking in his room, and Spencer decides it's his duty as best friend to cheer him up.
“Whatcha eating?” Spencer asks. He sits on the bed and crosses his legs.
“Brendon made Jon blowjob cupcakes. I stole one.” Ryan’s voice is muffled by a mouthful of cupcake.
“Oh, where? I want one!” Spencer says, trying to snatch the remainder of the cake out of Ryan's hand.
“A blowjob or a cupcake?” Ryan asks, face straight, waving his arm around to avoid Spencer's hand.
Spencer blushes. “A cupcake, you ass,” he mumbles, batting at Ryan's arm.
-
The thing is, Spencer knows it's not working. It's only Ryan who wants to keep doing this. Spencer mostly thinks Ryan's afraid this is the best he can do. Spencer knows that's bullshit. He doesn't know how to tell Ryan without pissing him off, though. It seems like everything he's been doing has been pissing off Ryan, lately.
“You're full of bullshit,” Spencer says once he decides there isn't a way to say it without pissing Ryan off. It comes out meaner than he meant it.
“Good to know.” Ryan doesn't even look up from his notepad. “What rhymes with 'seven'?”
“Eleven. No, seriously,” Spencer insists. “The whole story thing? It sucks.”
Ryan looks up, hurt and maybe just the other side of furious.
“The fuck?” The story thing is Ryan's baby. Spencer maybe didn't think this through.
“Jon and Brendon are right. You can do better. We can do better.” Spencer plows on, anyway. He's too bitter, too angry for this discussion. Spencer thinks he probably should have dealt with the Ryan and Jon thing before the album thing, but hindsight is always 20/20. “As a band.”
So maybe Ryan will hate him for this, okay. Spencer can deal. This is his life they're messing with. He'd rather be down a friend than a job.
Ryan scowls. “Okay.”
He isn't agreeing. Fuck, Spencer thinks. He'd definitely rather be down a band than a best friend. At this point, though, Spencer's sure he can salvage the former. He's not really sure about that latter.
“You could do better than this if you could get your head out of your ass and listen to us,” Spencer says resentfully. He hadn't sounded quite so hostile in his head. Fuck, Spencer thinks again.
“Fuck you,” Ryan says evenly, too calm, and keeps writing.
Spencer flicks him off and leaves the room. “You can do better than rhyming about stupid, fucking pesticides,” he spits over his shoulder, slamming the door. He's not entirely sure Ryan will even get what he's talking about.
“Yeah, well,” Ryan snaps at the wood. “What if I can't?”
-
Ryan doesn't sleep in Spencer's bed that night. He shivers until he gets the comforter out from under his fucking bed.
-
“Jon, JonJonJon,” Brendon whispers. “Jonny, I'm out of ideas.”
Jon rolls onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. Brendon stretches out on the patio beside him.
“Ideas for what?” Jon asks.
“For seducing you! Has it been working at all?” Brendon moans.
Jon is confused. “Working on me or Spencer?”
“Why would I be trying to seduce Spencer?” Brendon asks.
Jon doesn't know how to answer that, so he doesn't.
-
It's the first time they've really been out. Apart from going to the grocery store, the four of them have been complete hermits.
“Seriously, how have we not been into town yet?” Brendon wonders. He's walking backwards along the sidewalk, and every once and a while Jon grabs his shirt and steers him around a trash can or a lamp post. Surprisingly enough, he's only crashed into something once. That something was a woman, which is kind of bad, probably, but secretly Jon thinks she was pretty blitzed, so it's not like she'll remember in the morning. Jon wishes he asked her where the bar was, though, because it's the one thing they haven't found. There's a movie rental and a toy store, a car rental and a coin laundry, along with a smattering of clothing stores, but nowhere to get alcohol, other than the grocery store. (The beer there is ridiculously priced. Jon bought it on the first shopping trip and Spencer flipped a shit, nearly screeching, “Is it made of gold?” Jon was not aware that rock stars had a price limit on their alcohol, but Spencer had a point. It was shitty beer.) And that all boils down to the fact that Jon has not had enough to drink in the past few weeks.
“There's no thrift stores of any value,” Spencer and Ryan say together; except Ryan is completely sincere, and Spencer's monotone is clearly mocking.
“I hate you so much,” Ryan says, glaring; Ryan tries to unhook his arm from Spencer's, but Spencer pulls Ryan's arm closer to his side, trapping him.
“Hey, I'm sorry, just,” Spencer whispers, quiet enough that only Ryan hears. Louder, he says, “Dude, you've told me that at least six times since we've been here. 'Nothing compares to that Goodwill we found on the way up. I've been completely spoiled blah blah blaaaah,' ” Spencer imitates. Ryan glowers, knocking his shoulder against Spencer's.
“I want something to drink,” Jon says.
“I want something to eat!” Brendon exclaims, as if he just realized it. “I'm starving. When did we have lunch?”
“Dunno,” Ryan says. “I don't think I've looked at a clock in days. Wait no, that's a lie. My phone has a clock on it.”
“A real clock. Do we even have a real clock?” Spencer wonders. “I never noticed one.”
Brendon frowns. “Isn't it like, required or something? All houses have a clock. It's---isn't it? I don't know. Maybe cabins don't have clocks?”
“Dunno,” Ryan says again. “Food. Food, that sounds amazing. Let's do that.”
“I think there's a diner a little ways up,” Jon says. “Like, right where the strip mall starts.”
Ryan asks, “Close enough to walk?”
Spencer makes a face, mumbling, “As if the car wasn't right there.”
Jon rubs his neck. “I don't really remember.”
“Good enough for me,” Brendon concludes. He spins around, faces forward and doubles his pace. “Onwards.”
-
“This doesn't look promising,” Ryan drawls.
“There are balloons!” Brendon says. “Balloons are promising!”
“Way e's Ca Daler...hip?” Spencer says. He blinks. “Oh my God, Jon, you suck.”
The building is faded blue-gray. The paint has nearly completely chipped away. The windows say, “Wayne's Car Dealership” in faded black scrawl, and underneath that, “Always the Low-low-low-LOWEST prices!”
The letters have fallen off the building, probably years ago. Brendon can't stop snickering. Whatever Jon thought he saw, it wasn't here. There's no way this ever could have been a restaurant. Ryan's sitting on a rusted car with “SUPER CLOSEOUT PRICE!” written across the window shield. The car creaks under his weight --- which doesn't say much for the car: Ryan's a twig.
Brendon's investigating the building, wading through the overgrown weeds to test the door. It's locked, of course.
“I'm really sorry,” Jon says, scuffing his feet in the gravel.
Ryan snorts, watching Brendon scale the side of the building, looking for an entrance. When he disappears around the edge, Ryan asks, “How long are we gonna stay here? I really am hungry.”
Jon smiles indulgently. “Let's let Brendon frolic around for a while, he's having so much fun.”
“You'll spoil him, Jon,” Spencer cautions sagely, shaking his head.
They sit in companionable silence – well, Ryan sits. Jon and Spencer stand -- until Brendon's shriek echoes through their ears.
“Oh my fucking God!” Brendon screams nonsensically.
Ryan stands up, and Jon's already running towards the edge of the building.
“The fucking letter nearly fucking fell on me!” Brendon yells, holding a yellowed letter to his chest. He shoots across the parking lot, barreling into Jon.
“Are you okay?” Jon asks, Brendon sprawled across him, panting.
“Oh my God, this is so cool,” Brendon says as they walk back to the car.
“You nearly, like, died. How is that cool?” Spencer asks.
“It was exciting!” Brendon squeals. “I have a letter!”
-
It wasn't really close enough to walk -- or to walk back -- but they all have enough fun teasing Jon about thinking an abandoned car dealership was a diner that they don't really notice how long it takes. Brendon even stops complaining in favor of grinning insultingly at Jon and babbling about his letter.
“I never said I was sure that it actually was a restaurant!” Jon defends himself, shrugging and running ahead to avoid his bandmates’ eyes. “You’re all assholes.”
“Fuck, I'm hungry,” Brendon moans during a lull in conversation. “Jon, I'm going to starve because of you! I won’t even have a chance to call Bill Beckett and gloat. He's gonna be so jealous. He would totally put it on his wall.”
Ryan tisks-tisks disapprovingly, “Don't you think we've already taken enough from Bill? I hear we're no longer welcome on TAI's bus.”
“We did not steal Jon!” Brendon says, astonished. “Why do people keep saying that? Jon came willingly! Of his own free will!” He turns his eyes on Jon, appealing, “Didn't you, Jon? Didn't you? You totally love us.”
“Of course I do,” Jon confirms. “Besides, 'Steal' is such an ugly word. I prefer, 'borrowed with full intentions of returning until we realized we didn't want to give him back anymore.' ”
“I think that's probably several words,” Spencer adds helpfully.
-
They find an IHOP, and fans.
“Oh my God!” the redheaded squeals. “You guys are fabulous! Are you---Are you guys writing the record? Here?”
The blonde squeaks, no seriously, she squeaks, and says, “I totally read your blog, Ryan --- Ryan Ross ---” she says to herself, like she can't believe it, “---that you guys were gonna go up to some cabin and write? Or something? I didn't know you meant here, oh my God.”
“Try to write, is more like,” Brendon grins. The blonde's eyes light up and she's bouncing, Spencer notices. The redhead looks slightly embarrassed by her friend, but doesn't say anything. She looks pretty star-struck, too, anyway.
A tall, skinny boy in tight jeans wraps his arms around the redhead's waist, sticking his chin over her shoulder. “Hey, who are you talki---Dude. It's Panic at the Disco.”
“No fucking duh,” the blonde says.
The redhead twists back to kiss his cheek. “This is my gay boyfriend, Jin.”
“Hello!” Brendon says cheerfully. Ryan and Spencer mumble their hellos. Jon waves.
The guy---Jin swats at her. “Hi,” he says, and at the redhead, “Don't kiss me. It's gross.”
Ryan raises an eyebrow, curiously amused. “What exactly does a 'gay boyfriend' entail?” he asks. Jin detaches himself from the redhead ---they never got the girls' names, Spencer notices. He doesn't ask. It's not like he'll remember them later.
The blonde says, “We drag him around where ever we go.”
“Ah,” Ryan smirks.
Brendon scoots over, squashing Jon and Spencer to the edge of the booth. “You should eat with us! There's space.”
“Um,” Jon says dubiously, from where he's pressed against the wall. The girls look like they just won the lottery though, and even Jin cracks a hopeful smile, so Jon doesn't say anything else.
“Really? You guys don't mind?” the blonde asks. Spencer revises his opinion of her as the crazy one. Most people wouldn't even blink before accepting that offer, much less give them a chance to rethink it.
“Naaah,” Ryan urges, getting out of the booth and patting the gaudy red pleather. “Come on, eat waffles with us.”
-
“So this is pretty awesome. Why are you guys in Mount Charleston, anyway? Vegas seems like a more exciting place for a rockstar...” Jin says.
“They're from Vegas, you retard,” the redhead whispers loudly, punching his shoulder.
“Hey, just 'cause I don't internet stalk them doesn't mea---”
The blonde kicks him under the table, hard. Jin winces. “Uh. Never mind,” and then, “Ow, Jesus fucking Christ are you wearing steel-toed boots or something?”
“We're writing,” Ryan says. “We thought Vegas would be distracting.”
The redhead looks affronted. “I totally told you that a couple days ago, were you listening to me at all?”
Jin has the decency to look slightly guilty. “Define 'listening'...”
“You suck,” the blonde says.
Brendon giggles at them.
-
“I've gotta go to the bathroom.” Ryan looks straight at Jin while he gets up, which Spencer thinks is pretty funny, because Ryan's sitting on the edge of the booth. It's not like anyone is in his way.
Jin looks confused for a full sixty seconds, but then he grins and slides out of the booth. “Uh, yeah, be right back.”
-
The blonde finally asks, “Okay, so what's with the letter?” It's been sitting on the table the whole time, but no one's mentioned it yet.
“Ah, the pink elephant in the room,” Jon replies, leaning back.
Brendon grins, “It's totally the best story ever, you guys.” The girls' eyes light up and Brendon gestures wildly as he speaks. “So Jon found this abandoned car dealership---”
-
“That's so cool,” the redhead says dreamily when Jin comes back first, fifteen minutes later. (Spencer's still trying to figure out how Brendon made that story last fifteen minutes.)
“Hey,” Jin says, voice rough. Brendon's eyes just about pop out of his head, he's staring so hard. Jin waves. “Um,” he says, shying away from Brendon's gaze.
Jon giggles when Ryan comes back thirty seconds later. Ryan's slightly flushed, a pink tint across his neck and cheeks. Spencer wants to hit things. Specifically Jin.
“Oh my,” the redhead mumbles.
“Brendon just told us the best story ever, Jin!” The blonde squeals. The redhead elbows her. “What?” the blonde says.
The two girls do something freaky with their eyes -- not unlike Spencer and Ryan's silent conversations, and the blonde's eyes just about double in size.
She blinks. “Uh, er, we have to. Go. Curfew. Jin has a curfew.”
“At eight o' clock?” Ryan notes incredulously. He keeps elbowing Jon, trying to get him to shut up, but it just makes him giggle harder. Brendon's lips twitch.
“Yes!” the redhead says. “Jin's parent's are... Okay let's... yeah.” She grabs Jin around the waist and hurries him out the door, the blonde following close behind. Jon lays bent over the table, shoulders shaking. He pounds his fist on the tabletop.
When the Jin and the girls are out of hearing range, Jon says, “Ryan, you slut!” and giggles more.
“I. Um.” Ryan mumbles.
Brendon finally breaks into laughter, choking-out, “Oh God, sorry, I just can't---”
Just before the door closes, Spencer hears a whooping call of “Details?!” and Jon collapses on the table again, Brendon hysterical at his side.
Spencer doesn't really understand why it's so funny.
-
They get back to the cabin, Brendon leaps out of the car, nearly dropping the W when he trips on the steps.
“What the hell?” Jon asks.
“He is so weird,” Ryan says.
Spencer follows a step behind, hands clenched into fists. He feels like a clock that someone wound too tight.
-
Brendon slides out of Jon's room just as Jon gets to the top of the stairs.
“What the hell?” Jon repeats.
“I—you. It's a surprise,” is all the Brendon says and he disappears down the hallway and into his room.
“Whatever,” Jon dismisses the exchange and goes into his room. There's a giant yellow W on his bed. The first thing Jon can think to do is kiss Brendon the way he's wanted to since they first met.
“There isn't a W in my name,” Brendon gasps, his hands in Jon's hair. “It was perfect for you.”
“You and your Goddamn mouth,” Jon grumbles.
“That's been said to me a surprising number of times, actually,” Brendon comments, smiling.
Jon says, “No, I mean, shut up.” And Brendon does.
-
“I think Brendon is onto us,” Ryan whispers conspiratorially. “He just told me to 'Go get 'em, Tiger.' ” Ryan laughs lightly, pulling back the sheets.”I wonder why he's in such a good mood,” Spencer puts down his book, glaring.
“Jesus, is that your response to everything?” Spencer snaps. “Getting into bed with people?”
“What are you---?” Ryan starts to ask, backing away from the bed.
Spencer's not having any of that. “You fucked some groupie in the bathroom, what the fuck.”
“We didn't fuck,” Ryan spits. “He gave me---I don't have to explain myself to you.”
“I---I. Why'd you do it?” Spencer screeches, standing up. “Was he your 'type' or something?”
Ryan crosses his arms. “I don't have a 'type'. Anyway, I'm single. I'm allowed to fuck whoever I want.”
“In the bathroom?” Spencer says. “What, he wasn't classy enough to take you to his house?”
“I wasn't going anywhere with him!” Ryan says. “I was hanging out with you guys! I wasn't gonna ditch you.”
“No, you just wanted to get something on the side,” Spencer spits.
“No! What the---Spencer, what's wrong with you? Why the hell would I go somewhere with a fan I don't even know?”
“Oh, so you won’t go to his house, but you'll fuck him?” Spencer questions mockingly. “What the hell, Ryan! You shouldn't fuck people you don't trust!”
“The only fucking people I trust are you and the rest of our friends! You think I should fuck one of them?”
Yes, Spencer thinks, but he says, “Well, you could fuck Jon! It's already been proved you can kiss him without making it awkward! Why don't you take the next step?”
“Oh my God, what is your problem?” Ryan shrieks.
“First Jon---”
“This isn't about Jon!” Ryan screams, tearing at his hair. “What is it with you and Jon? Do you like him? Do you want him?”
Spencer can't think of a way to answer those questions without incriminating himself. So he just keeps talking, “---and now some random guy?” Spencer asks, loud and angry. “You're such a slut, Ryan.”
Spencer voice is harsh, nothing like Jon's at the diner.
Ryan's mouth sets in a hard line. He turns around and leaves Spencer's room without a word, door slamming behind him.
Well, fuck, Spencer thinks. He sleeps alone that night, just like last night, just like the nights to come.
-
Spencer collapses on the roof, spreading out across the shingles.
“Hello?” someone says a little while later. Jon, Spencer thinks.
“Ryan hates me,” Spencer moans when Jon sits next to him, crossing his legs.
“Why?” Jon asks.
Spencer stares at the clouds. He thinks he sees a duck, but every second it breaks apart and gets fuzzier and fuzzier. “The sky looks like a painting,” Spencer says instead of answering Jon's question.
“So you don't know why he hates you, okay,” Jon says, mostly to himself. “The sky always looks like a painting here. Did you see it last week when it rained?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. He remembers, the sky opened up and it poured all day. The clouds were nearly black, so thick that only a few streams of sunlight peeked through. There wasn't any lightning, no thunder, but the clouds were an ominous presence by themselves.
“I took some pictures. I wonder how they'll turn out,” Jon wonders, stretching out next to Spencer. “It's nice out today... Not too hot.”
Spencer turns his head to look at Jon. “Why are we talking about the weather?”
Jon looks surprised. “You brought it up, Smith.”
Spencer snorts. Jon raises his eyebrows --- he's still waiting for an answer, so Spencer says, “I was a jealous bitch.”
Jon nods. “This is a problem.”
“I was jealous of you,” Spencer laughs, and it's not funny at all.
-
Ryan slumps into one of the folding chairs. He pulls at his shirt where it rides up. This shirt used to fit him perfectly, but that was a long time ago. Ryan won’t throw it out, no matter how small it gets; this is the shirt Spencer gave him.
Brendon and Jon are sprawled across the cement. The bridge of Brendon's nose is pink from the sun.
“Spencer thinks I hate him,” Ryan says.
Brendon raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”
“No. Sort of.” Ryan pauses. “Not any more than usual.”
Brendon nods slowly, folding his hands in his lap. He looks like a shrink. “Is your reason for hating him legitimate?”
“Is it ever?” Jon asks.
“Shut up, Jon,” Brendon says. Jon does. “Ryan?” Brendon prompts.
“Yes. ...Sort of.” Ryan sighs. “Not any more than usual.”
-
Spencer feels like such a creep, staring out the window, smiling at the way Ryan keeps tugging on his shirt, as if he could somehow make it three inches longer just by pulling on it.
Jon and Brendon are sprawled next to him, and Spencer feels slightly left out, sitting alone while the rest of his band congregates without him. But if Spencer went outside, he wouldn't be able to watch the way the light hits Ryan's cheek bones, and that's not something he's about to give up.
Spencer knows he's a creep; he just can't bring himself to care.
-
And it's awkward. Oh God, it's awkward.
“I'm--- Sorry. Lemme, yeah, just---” Ryan says softly when he and Spencer meet in the hallway. Ryan moves left, and Spencer moves right. “Other way, I'll---”
“Oh,” Spencer says, going the other direction, only to nearly bump into Ryan, again.
“Wow, this is really, really not working,” Ryan says, stopping completely and letting Spencer walk around him. Spencer has an all-encompassing urge to bang his head on a wall.
This really isn't working.
-
“Have we completely abandoned your songs, Ryan?” Jon asks. It's the fourth practice they've played nothing but The Beatles.
“Our songs.” Ryan stresses. “And no. I'm—working on them. Can we just play?”
The worst part is that Ryan doesn't look at Spencer anymore while they play. It hurts more than Spencer thinks is really appropriate. Spencer misses Ryan turning around to play to him, misses the faces Ryan made when he didn't approve of Brendon's singing, misses the way Ryan's brows furrowed when he hit a difficult chord. Mostly, Spencer misses Ryan.
-
“I got a movie!” Brendon screams. Then, the door slams. Spencer can already tell this isn't going to be a quiet night.
“Oh my God, there had better be popcorn!” Jon yells.
“I bought some!” Brendon yells back.
“Can you guys be quiet?” Ryan says from up the stairs. “Inside voices!”
“Go to hell, Ryan!” Brendon says happily. “You're yelling too!”
“Jesus, shut the fuck up!” Spencer yells from where is on the couch. Brendon pokes his head into the living room, waving the Blockbuster bag at Spencer.
“Hi Spencer!” Brendon screams.
Spencer rolls his eyes. “You're a fucking moron, Brendon.”
“So I've been told,” Brendon says solemnly, quietly --- but then, Brendon screeches at the top of his lungs, “JON AND RYAN GET DOWN HERE; YOU'RE GOING TO MISS THE CREDITS!”
“Oh, God, it was just too much to ask for some peace,” Spencer mumbles, abandoning his book. “So what are we watching?”
“Cloverfield!”
“The JJ Abrams movie!” Jon says.
“How do you even know that?” Spencer asks.
“Hello? Lost? Tell me you've heard of Lost.”
“Um,” Spencer says.
“Oh my god. What, do you guys live under a rock? First, I have to introduce you to The O.C. and now I have to make you watch Lost, too?”
“Another chick show, Jon?” Ryan asks. “What's the premise of this 'Lost'?”
“Not a chick show, dude! It's completely manly! There are explosions and planes and islands... and...” Jon's obviously running out of steam. He waves his arms around. “...And polar bears! Miracles!”
“Miracles?” Brendon echoes. “Dude, that totally sounds like a chick show.”
“I hate you all,” Jon says. “Really. Don't make fun of my TV; you know you love it.”
“Sure, sure,” Spencer says, but he's the one that always knows when new episodes of the O.C. are online, so he can't even talk.
-
When the movie is over, Spencer can't bring himself to get up, because Ryan is asleep on his shoulder. Brendon and Jon grin at him, but they don't make him move.
“Oh, it is looooove,” Brendon sings quietly, poking Spencer's ribs. Spencer holds his breath so he doesn't squirm.
“From the first time I set my eyes upon yours, thinking, 'Oh is it love?'” Jon sings straight to Brendon. Spencer can see the way both of their cheeks change colors, even in the dark.
Spencer grins, it's impossible to help.
-
When Spencer wakes up, some time past three in the morning, Ryan's gone, but there's a blanket across his lap, and it's still warm where Ryan was sitting.
-
“Oh, I--- sorry, Spencer.” Ryan mumbles, squatting down to pick up Spencer's magazine.
“We've gotta stop meeting like this,” Spencer jokes. Ryan's lips twist, but it doesn't look entirely pleased. The only time they ever talk lately, it's to apologize. Spencer's sick of it.
“Sorry,” Ryan apologizes. Spencer wants to bang his head on a wall.
“Hey, look. Ryan,” Spencer says, ignoring the outstretched magazine. “I'm sorry---”
“But you didn't---”
“No, Ryan. I'm sorry.” He holds Ryan's gaze, praying he'll get it. “Look, don't make me say it. For calling you---”
“Yeah, okay. Um.” Ryan nods, pushing the magazine at Spencer's chest. “Take this, I—I don't want it.”
When Spencer takes it, Ryan pushes past him without another word.
Spencer isn't sure if things are better or worse between them.
-
When they decide to leave, they don't have anything that could resemble an album. Secretly, Ryan is kind of freaking out.
“We just need a change of scenery!” Brendon says confidently. “The feng shui is all wrong here. I bet you we'd get more done hanging out in your backyard, or something.”
“Why my backyard?” Ryan asks.
“Mine is dead and Spencer's is ugly,” Brendon says, nodding. “It'll have to be your yard.”
-
Inexplicably, Brendon finished packing his shit first, and now he's just floating between the rooms, being as annoying as he can. Or being distracting.
“I've gotta pack,” Jon says, anguished. “You should go bother Spencer, now.”
“Nah,” Brendon decides, scraping his teeth across Jon's ear. “This is more fun.”
“I hate you,” Jon says, trying to fold shirts and fend Brendon off at the same time.
“Except there's no way you really do,” Brendon insists, managing to pin Jon to the bed, and draw a real kiss out of him. “See? That wasn't so hard.” Brendon stretches across Jon, lazily setting his head in the crook of Jon's neck. “I'm really easy to please.”
Jon raises his eyebrows, and Brendon giggles, leaning close to share Jon's breath.
“Hey, I think this is yours---” Ryan says, opening the door. Brendon reacts immediately, rolling off Jon and onto the floor with a thud.
“Ow,” he says.
Ryan shakes his head and throws the t-shirt, which is indeed Jon's, at the bed. “What are you doing, Brendon?”
“Checking for intruders!” Brendon exclaims. “There's no one under the bed, Jon! We're all clear.”
Ryan mutters something about freaks and shuts the door.
“We should probably tell them,” Jon says. Brendon giggles into the floor.
-
“Why the fuck is there a tambourine in the cabinet?” Ryan asks.
“Oh my God!” Brendon screams. “Oh my God, how could that even get in there?”
-
Everything is ready to go for the morning. All they have to do is load it all into the car and drive away --- Spencer already called the office to check-out. Still, he can't believe they're leaving.
“I just can't imagine being anywhere but here,” Spencer says aimlessly.
“Me and Jon are dating now,” Brendon mentions, out of the blue.
“What?” Spencer says, but then, “Wait, wait, I actually kind of saw that one coming.”
“Oh,” Brendon frowns. He gives Spencer an even look. “Wouldn't it be amazing if you could get over your shit and the whole band could be happy together?”
“Shut up,” Spencer says.
“You should talk to him.”
“Duh.”
-
“Me and Jon are going to buy pineapple pizza!” Brendon calls. “We'll be back later!”
“Pineapple?” Ryan wrinkles his nose.
“Don't worry, we'll get something disgusting and meaty for you, too, Ryan,” Brendon says.
“Delicious and meaty,” Ryan corrects.
“Sure, whatever,” Brendon says, and then to Spencer, “Spencer Smith, don't be a pussy!”
Jon tugs Brendon out the door, and they both giggle the whole way out.
“What?” Ryan asks, awkward but he's talking to Spencer, on purpose, of his own free will, and it's awesome.
“It's Brendon,” Spencer says, like that explains it.
“Jon told me they're dating,” Ryan says, and he's starting a conversation. Spencer can't think of a time when he's been happier than right now. “What are you smiling so hard about?' Ryan asks when Spencer only manages to nod.
There's no way in hell Spencer's going to tell him.
-
Spencer prepares a speech, but forgets half of it as soon as he's face to face with Ryan. Spencer wishes he'd written it down, but it's too late now.
So Spencer improvises. “Okay, here's the thing. You're our lyricist, Ryan, and if you want to write an album about The Seven Deadly Sins or, like, plagiarize Margaret Mitchell, or, or whatever, anything you can think of, then that's what we'll do. Whether it takes six months or six years, we'll fucking do it,” Spencer says. Ryan has stopped writing in his journal completely; his whole attention is focused on Spencer. “And I don't want you to hate me anymore, and I don't want it to be awkward, and I don't want to keep screwing things up. You're my best friend, and I can't---”
“Do you wanna, just. Start over?” Ryan asks, he stands up, he wrings his hands, and he bites his lip. Spencer hasn't seen Ryan nervous in a long time.
Spencer stares at him. “The album?”
“That, too.”
Spencer stares some more. “As long as you promise we can start over again if this is really weird.”
“I---what?” Ryan asks. Spencer interrupts him with a kiss. It's sweet and simple, but only because Spencer thinks he'd give himself an aneurysm if he tried anything else. Spencer's hands flutter by his sides, unsure of what's okay. Ryan laces their fingers together, pulling Spencer's arms until they're wrapped around his waist.
Even after the kiss is over, it's a long time before Ryan drops Spencer's hands.
-
the end~
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Resistentialism
“I'm thinking that we scrap this whole thing,” Jon says over pizza.
Ryan really, really can't cook, apparently. He spent three hours making curry --- it was a weird orange color that none of them had seen in even the most eclectic Indian restaurant, and it smelled like wet dog --- before he gave up and ordered pizza. Ryan ordered salad, too, but Spencer's the only one eating it.
Jon's munching on a slice of plain cheese, and he keeps stealing mushrooms off Ryan's piece. Ryan would make more of a protest, but he doesn't like mushrooms much anyway. Jon knows this; he figures he's doing Ryan a favor, since Ryan would just pick them off himself and they'd go to waste.
Spencer hums around a mouthful, he's been thinking the same thing for a while, but Ryan says, “No way, asshole. I worked hard on those lyrics.”
“And they're very nice lyrics,” Jon replies, “but this sucks.” His voice is light; he's teasing.
Ryan isn't really offended when he says, “I am wounded, Jon Walker, wounded by your words. Hey, alliteration.” Ryan grins because he's a dork and loves that kind of thing, and Jon smiles with him.
“Um. Did something happen when I wasn't paying attention?” Brendon asks, looking at the two of them curiously.
Jon sends him a questioning look, and Brendon rushes to explain. “Well, I, you're all---And it's great that you're getting along, you know, since, we. I totally agree with you, but... But, why?” Brendon isn't making much sense, really, but Jon isn't stupid, and he figures out what Brendon means pretty quickly.
“Ryan kissed me, in a final last-ditch effort to make me stay, and everything felt pretty okay, after that.”
Spencer nearly drops his fork. He can't breathe. “Um,” Brendon says. “Are you two, like, a couple?”
Ryan looks mortified. “God, no.” He turns towards Jon, batting Jon's hand away from his pizza when Jon goes for a black olive. “That was a terrible explanation, Jon. That's not what happened at all,” Ryan says, not really angry, mostly just fondly annoyed.
“It sort of is,” Jon says simply. Spencer can't breathe, what the fuck. Brendon looks mildly shocked.
“You and Jon?” Brendon asks. “But I thought... I thought you...”
“No. No, Jesus, you don't listen,” Ryan sighs. “Me and Jon have an understanding--Why did you tell them that? God, I don't know how to explain it,” Ryan says. He's embarrassed, Spencer can tell. Jon grins like he knows something the rest of them don't.
“Ryan thought if he threw himself at me I'd stay,” Jon says.
Brendon makes a horrified noise, says, “You're leaving?” He sounds broken and sad and hurt, so suddenly that Jon is confused as to where he went wrong.
“No!” Ryan exclaims. “No. Not anymore.” That one is definitely a question again, Jon thinks. Spencer's knuckles are white; he's gripping the plastic fork so hard.
“No, I'm not, don't worry,” Jon says. “Fuck, this is fucked up. I'm not leaving.”
Brendon looks between Jon and Ryan, lips pulled into a tight line. “Okay,” he says, a long time later, once Ryan's started eating again.
Eventually Jon wanders off to watch TV. “I'm leaving,” he says before he goes, “But do not worry, I'll be back. No need to take off your clothes, Ryan.”
Ryan blushes and throws an insult back, but Spencer can't hear it over the rush in his ears. Brendon laughs, though, so Spencer thinks it must've been pretty good.
Brendon gets up, says, “I'm going outside, be back in a little while.” Spencer thinks Brendon's going to call his mom, maybe. Or maybe he's just going for a walk; it'd be understandable. Spencer thinks he could use a walk. He needs to get out of the house; he wants to kill Jon. Or Ryan. Or both of them, the motherfuckers.
Ryan gets up a minute later, grabbing Brendon and Jon's plate and taking them into the kitchen.
“You done?” he asks.
“N'a minute,” Spencer replies. Ryan goes into the kitchen and Spencer lets out a shuddering breath, finally unclenching his hand from around the fork. There are red lines from where the metal cut into his skin.
And that had been that.
-
Jon leans against the wall, waiting for Spencer to finish in the bathroom.
When Spencer comes out, breath clean and minty fresh, so many expressions flit over his face, Jon can't even begin to guess what Spencer's feeling.
“He kissed you, what the fuck,” Spencer says, backing Jon against the wall. There's pissed as fuck, definitely, Jon decides, but there's also something that sounds like jealousy in Spencer's voice, and Jon doesn't really know what to do with that.
Huh, jealousy, Jon thinks. Maybe Ryan should write a song about this, instead of harbors or ships or whatever the hell it was.
Jon holds Spencer's gaze until Spencer deflates, and looks away. Jon doesn't, though. He keeps scrutinizing Spencer, wondering who he's jealous of. Me or Ryan? Does Spencer wish Ryan kissed him, or that he kissed Jon?
Spencer feels vaguely uncomfortable under Jon's gaze, and finally, when he can't take it anymore, says, “So. I'm sorry. But like, the fuck?”
“Yeah,” Jon responds flatly. “I don't know.”
“And like, I know, I was an asshole, but you and Ryan were all chummy, and so like. What the hell? He kissed you and instead of it getting awkward you became best friends all of a sud---” Spencer cuts himself off abruptly.
Jon doesn't know what's going on. Does Spencer think Jon's replacing him? Does Spencer want to kiss Ryan? Does Spencer want to kiss Jon? Jon can't even begin to imagine that any of those could be a possibility.
Finally, Jon says, “I can understand if you hate me now, I guess.” He doesn't sound like he understands at all, but Spencer doesn't call him on it. “But what did I do earlier, on the hike?” He sounds tired, almost. Tired and confused, which Jon is, but. “The orange?” It's seriously the only think Jon can even fathom he did wrong.
“No, it wasn't the...” Spencer mumbles. Jon almost misses it when Spencer whispers, quiet as Jon's ever heard him, “It was just our thing.”
“Oh,” Jon says. Oh. He doesn't. He didn't even think that--- “Okay. So you probably don't want us to go with y'all on the hike tomorrow?”
Spencer's face is so bitchy Jon thinks that they'll probably be friends again before he knows it.
-
Jon finds Brendon eating ice cream straight from the carton in the kitchen, and the worst part isn't that Brendon's double dipping (they share everything, anyway) it's that it's almost empty and this will be the fifth carton Brendon's finished since they've been at the cabin.
“Gimme,” Jon says, reaching for Brendon's hands. He grabs a spoon out of the drawer, intent on sharing.
Brendon gives him a pointed look. “Not for anything, Walker.”
“Gimme,” Jon repeats, slinking forward.
Brendon makes an alarmed noise. “You are not stealthy, Jon Walker!” he yelps. He takes a step back anyway.
Jon licks his lips, holding his spoon as menacingly as one can hold a spoon, and pounces.
Brendon squeals and dissolves into a fit of giggles, sinking to the floor and pulling Jon with him. Somehow, Jon ends up in Brendon's lap, and the ice cream ends up rolling halfway across the kitchen floor.
“Damn it,” Brendon says. “Get off me.”
“No way,” Jon glares. “You're faster than me; if I get up you'll totally get the ice cream first.”
Brendon pauses. “This is true.”
They look at each other a long time, before Jon breaks the silence with, “Did you still want to go on the hike tomorrow?”
Brendon grins, “Yeah! It sounds awesome. I can't wait.”
Fuck, Jon thinks. “Oh, okay, uh.” Jon tries to think of something other than, 'Spencer is in love with Ryan' and fails miserably. “Can we maybe... not?” Jon asks.
Brendon looks confused. “Why not?”
“Because...” Jon says vaguely. “Because I hurt my leg. And it. Hurts.”
“Um,” Brendon says. “I'm sorry. Do you need some ice?”
“...I.” Fuckfuckfuck, Jon thinks. This is not going splendidly. “I don't want to be all alone in the cabin?” Jon accidentally makes it a question, but he can tell from the way Brendon's face softens that he thinks Jon is embarrassed, not that Jon's pulling this out of his ass.
“Like I was this morning?” Brendon says, amused, but there's no hint of bitterness. He's just teasing.
“Yeah,” Jon says. “I bet it sucked.”
“It did, oh my God,” Brendon says empathetically. “I was so bored.”
Jon watches the puddle of melted Phish Food ice cream grow while Brendon rambles about how he passed the time all alone this morning.
Jon interrupts with, “So you'll stay?”
“Of course I'll stay,” Brendon says so earnestly Jon feels bad for lying to him.
-
Spencer wants to fucking scream at Ryan when he opens the door that night. He has half a mind to tell Ryan he's a slut or slap him or maybe just yell a lot. Something. Seriously, what the fuck, Spencer thinks.
But Ryan looks tired, and Spencer gives up way too Goddamn easily. Spencer just rolls to the far edge of the bed when Ryan slips in.
Spencer manages a full thirty minutes before he rolls over and draws Ryan to his chest. Spencer could tell from the way Ryan's breathing was perfectly even that he was freaking out. There was no way Spencer would let himself be the cause of that.
Spencer already knows he's fucked, thank you.
-
Brendon and Spencer are sprawled out on the back deck, Brendon's doodling something rich and red with his colored pencils. Spencer's sprawled a few feet away from him. Spencer tried to use one of the pencils for a grocery list, once, and Brendon growled at him. When Ryan whispered to him that they cost over a dollar each, Spencer thought that maybe that was an okay reason for acting like a lunatic. He's still mostly afraid of Brendon whenever he has them out, and Spencer usually ends up staying as far away as he can without looking like he's purposely keeping his distance.
“So Ryan's sleeping with you?” Brendon asks innocently, suddenly.
Spencer freezes; marks his place in his book to cover his stillness. “Well, yeah, you burned his fucking quilt.” Spencer knows he sounds defensive. “What is he supposed to do? Freeze?”
“I totally didn't,” Brendon retorts.
“You totally did,” Spencer disagrees, with less conviction than before. Brendon looks serious, at least serious for Brendon. Spencer thinks about it. Brendon doesn't even blink while Spencer pauses.
“You didn't?” he finally asks.
“Check under Ryan's bed,” is all Brendon says before going back to coloring.
-
Spencer can't look under Ryan's bed. He doesn't want to know what it means if it's there ---- if all this time Ryan's been sleeping with him because... Because why? Why the hell would he kiss Jon if he wanted Spencer? It doesn't make sense. Brendon's on crack or something, there's no way he's right.
Spencer refuses to think about how often Brendon is right. He predicted every one of their break-ups, except Jon's --- Jon's scarily good at pretending everything is fine --- but this is different, Spencer reasons. There's a difference between the end of relationships and the beginning.
Spencer doesn't want to think about it; all of this is making his head hurt.
-
Jon runs his fingers across the spines of the books, looking for a familiar title. There aren't any.
“They're all bad romance 'novels',” Brendon says. “And really, really shitty sci-fi things.”
“Oh my god, Brendon,” Jon grins. “Best title ever: The Curse of the Vampire-Dragon.”
“Wait, seriously?” Brendon asks, laughing. “I didn't see that one! Give it here.”
“Hold on,” Jon replies. He tries to slide the book out of the bookshelf, but it barely moves --- even though the shelf isn't very full. “What the heck...” Jon mumbles, tugging hard. The bookshelf wobbles, and on the second pull, tips over with a loud crash --- right on top of Jon.
“Shit!” Brendon yelps. He sits up, scrambling across the room and pull the shelf off of Jon. “Are you okay?” he asks, concern dripping from his voice. Jon looks okay, mostly bewildered and covered in books.
“Yeah, fine, I ju---Manticore vs. Centaur? Seriously, what?” Jon sits up, books shifting and sliding off him while he moves.
“What the fuck is going on down there?!” Ryan screams from upstairs.
“The bookshelf tried to kill me for making fun of it!” Jon screams back.
“What?!”
“Stop yelling!” Spencer's voice comes from somewhere near the kitchen.
“You're yelling too, asshole!” Brendon joins in, just as loudly as the rest of them.
“I'm yelling because I'm angry, it's a legit reason to scream!”
“Why are you angry?!” Jon asks.
“All the fucking spoons are gone!”
“What!?”
“I know!”
“There totally were spoons yesterday!” Jon yells. “Me and Brendon ate the ice cream with them!”
“You assholes! I wanted some of that!” Spencer cries, anguished.
“Well you couldn't find a spoon for it anyway!” Jon reasons.
“Whatever.” Spencer says loudly, halfway pissed off at Brendon and Jon, but mostly annoyed at the lack of spoons.
Jon pushes the books off of his legs, and stands up. He gathers a handful of books and shoves them inside the bookcase, when the shelf promptly falls down.
“Shit,” Jon swears. He puts the shelf back on its hooks and stacks the books neatly. This time, the shelf holds. Jon shakes his head. “Happy?” Jon mutters, as if he expects a response.
“Jesus Christ,” Brendon breathes, “what the hell is up with this place?”
-
That night, it's probably only awkward on Spencer's part, but he thinks he could cut the tension with a knife. Ryan's bony, but somehow not uncomfortable. Is it normal to cuddle this much with one's best friend? Spencer can't help but wonder. Is it normal to want to sleep with your best friend when he's kissing other boys behind your back? Spencer wants to know. He wants to take back the thought right away --- Ryan is allowed to kiss whoever he wants. Sometimes, though, a small part of Spencer's brain wishes that 'whoever' was him.
Ryan is already asleep, his arm thrown carelessly over Spencer's shoulder and his face buried into Spencer's chest. He's sleeping peacefully, and --- Spencer thinks it before he can stop it --- he looks adorable. When Ryan's sleeping he's unconcerned with everything, there's no darting eyes or shifty smiles. He just looks serene, a small, unselfconscious smile curled on his lips. Ryan breathes quietly, mumbling nonsense as he sleeps. It's really sort of precious.
Spencer's been falling asleep quickly these past few nights, so he hasn't really had a chance to really appreciate Ryan in his unconscious state. He's always thought Ryan looks the most gorgeous when he's sleeping. --- Spencer might as well admit that he thinks Ryan's gorgeous, now. Jon knows, Brendon knows; it's only Ryan who's clueless enough to stay out of the loop.
“Spencer,” Ryan mumbles, voice laced with grogginess and dreams. “I missed you.”
Spencer feels wrong, like he's eavesdropping. The worst part is there's nothing he can do. If he moves he'll wake Ryan, and beyond not wanting to disturb Ryan's peace, he doesn't want to have to explain why he had to leave in the first place. 'Oh, yeah, you were dreaming about me and it made me uncomfortable, sorry man.' Spencer can see how well that would go down. He doesn't want to be that guy, either. The one uncomfortable with hugs a millisecond longer than the established two-point-five second bro hug, or, like, his best friend talking about him in his----
“It's not tha', I mean.” Ryan shifts. “Spin? ...Spin? Spencer!” Suddenly, Ryan's shaking, twisting against Spencer. He's having a nightmare, Spencer realizes belatedly. There's about two and a half seconds of shock --- enough time for one bro hug, Spencer thinks, lips curling --- before Spencer pulls Ryan into his arms, shushing and rocking him, trying to calm him down. Ryan's distraught. He's frowning, worry lines are suddenly etched all over his face, and he's clammy, covered in a cold sweat.
“Shhh, shh, I'm here. I'm here, Ryan. It's okay, don't worry. You're okay, you're okay,” Spencer rambles nonsensically, trying to stop Ryan from freaking out as much as he's trying to stop himself from freaking out.
“Spence?” Ryan asks tentatively, just barely asleep.
“I'm here, I'm here,” Spencer replies automatically.
“Okay,” Ryan says, blinking. And then, smaller, softer, “I know.”
-
Spencer watches the skip of Ryan's fingers on the neck of his guitar. When he concentrates, Ryan bites his lip, and there's a tightness to his shoulders that's only there when he's trying his best not to fuck things up. Spencer's fingers itch to massage that tension away. When Ryan comes to bed that night – God, Spencer's such a girl for the little flutter his heart did at thinking about it like that – Spencer wants to rub his thumbs along the ridge of Ryan's neck, to knead the knots out until Ryan's melted into the bed, relaxed and content. The image is really hard to get out of his head, and Spencer keeps fucking up the beat, distracted by the idea of Ryan spread out just for him.
He's still irrationally afraid some other inanimate object is going to try to kill Ryan, anyway. It's not like Spencer was focused to begin with.
-
“Spencer is obviously hopeless,” Brendon says to Jon. Spencer's sitting on the couch, reading.
“Um,” Jon says. “He's...?”
“Hopeless. He's completely in love with Ryan and refuses to acknowledge it.”
“Am not,” Spencer says too quickly. And then, “Stop talking about me like I'm not here; it's tacky.”
“It's not, because I'm not talking about you like you're not here. I'd have to explain this all to you later, anyway, I'm just killing two birds with one stone,” Brendon explains earnestly. Spencer raises an eyebrow. Jon looks lost.
Jon asks, “What do I have to do with this? Wait. Since when do you even know about Spencer's unrequited love?”
Brendon snorts. “Definitely not unrequited. Anyway,---Wait, when did you find out?”
“I don't know. A little less than a week?” Jon furrows his brows. “The night Ryan tried to make curry.”
Brendon looks appalled. “Why didn't you tell me? What if I hadn't figured this out? Who would have helped Spencer and Ryan then?”
“I wouldn't. I have no idea how I would even bring that up,” Jon says.
Brendon flails at him, a little. “We're on the same team here, Jon! You've gotta help me out sometimes.”
“I think they would have figured it out,” Jon mumbles eventually.
“You think?” Brendon deadpans. “Ryan obviously has no idea what he's doing.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Spencer defends.
“I need your help,” Brendon says to Jon. “I'm going to court you.”
Jon and Spencer both say, “What?” at exactly the same time.
“I am hoping Spencer will follow our good example!”
“What makes you think I'm going to follow your example?” Spencer looks vaguely amused.
“Don't worry, you naturally look up to me, Spence---”
“Besides the fact that I'm taller than you?” Spencer asks, smiling.
“---Shut up. And Ryan has been following Jon around like a puppy recently. It'll be a piece of cake.” Spencer's amusement dissolves. Brendon's kind of a douche sometimes.
“Shut the fuck up, Brendon,” Spencer says quietly, glaring. It's all he can do not to punch Brendon in the face.
“The hardest part will be getting Ryan to realize you're ridiculous about him, but hey, I think Jon can probably get Ryan to see the light!”
“Please, just,” Spencer tries.
At the same time, Jon says, “Brendon,” and then, “Stop talking over me, Smith. Just 'cause Brendon's a dumbass doesn't mean you don't have to respect me.” There isn't even a pause when Jon changes subjects. “How is one courted, exactly?”
“It's very simple, really,” Brendon says, before asking, very seriously, “What kind of flowers do you prefer? I mean, all you have to do is swoon, really. Be a good example for Ryan. I'm afraid he's worse than Spencer.”
“Oh, Brendon!” Jon does his best imitation of Scarlet O' Hara. “I'll try ever so hard.”
Brendon bursts out giggling, but stops abruptly. “Wait. Why am I a dumbass?”
Spencer can't help it, he starts giggling too.
-
“This is for you,” Brendon grins, holding a daisy out towards Jon.
“Why thank you, Brendon,” Jon says simply, taking the flower out of his hand.
Ryan looks up from the TV, obviously amused. “Why the fuck are you giving Jon flowers?”
“Shhhhhh. I'm courting him, Ryan,” Brendon says. “Don't ruin the moment!”
Spencer muffles a giggle as he walks into the room. He didn't actually expect Brendon to do anything. “You're what?” Ryan asks, glancing over at Spencer and waving. Spencer's just wearing his pajama pants, slung low around his waist. Ryan stares just a second too long.
Spencer doesn't notice, but Brendon's lips curl triumphantly.
-
Brendon keeps up the act, pushing Jon's chair in for him and serving him dinner and giving him flowers at least twice every day. Brendon is a total gentleman, and treats Jon like a queen.
“King,” Jon insists when Spencer voices his opinion.
They're all out on the back deck. It's hot, even up here in the mountains, what the fuck. Spencer's popsicle is melting, and he keeps having to lick the lime flavored juice off his knuckles.
“Do you want anything?” Brendon asks as he gets up. “I'm gonna go get a napkin.” He licks between his fingers absently. “Mmm, I'm orange flavored.” He grins and slips in the sliding door.
Brendon comes back a few minutes later with sunscreen. “You're going to burn Jon, sitting out here in the sun! I wouldn't want to blemish your fair skin with such harsh rays!” In addition to the gentleman act, Brendon's been imitating a Southern accent off and on. He's horrible at it, but Jon's Southern Belle is actually scarily convincing.
Jon lets Brendon put sunscreen on his back --- he's shirtless, and pinker than usual. Brendon was right in bringing out the sunscreen.
Spencer's watching the pair --- and trying unsuccessfully to suppress a laugh, --- when Ryan takes half his popsicle in his mouth and bites down. Spencer tries not to openly stare, but Ryan's lips are wet and stained red while he crunches on the ice.
“Maybe you should be paying attention, Spencer. You just might learn something,” Jon says cheekily. Brendon laughs like the traitor that he is.
Ryan says, “Hm?”
-
Ryan stumbles into the kitchen. Spencer isn't even up yet (understandably, Spencer didn't want to hike this morning. Ryan didn't either) so Ryan has no idea why Brendon, of all people, is up.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asks. “At seven-thirty in the morning?”
Brendon looks up and smiles. “Morning, sleepy. I'm making cupcakes.”
Ryan walks into the kitchen, eyeing Brendon's baking. “Why so early? And, also, you can bake?”
“Yes, I can bake, Ryan,” Brendon rolls his eyes. “I couldn't sleep. Why are you up, anyway?”
Ryan doesn't tell Brendon that Spencer has a habit of sprawling on top of him, which is usually fine, except right now, Ryan is sore everywhere, and having a Spencer pressing into his bruises was uncomfortable to say the least. Instead Ryan says, “I dunno. Maybe I smelled your cooking.”
Ryan leans over Brendon's shoulder to read what he's icing on the cupcakes and promptly bursts out laughing. “What... What?” Ryan wheezes. “Oh, God, what are you... Brendon.”
Brendon stops piping and turns his head to look at Ryan. “What?” he asks innocently.
“You're... What? Are you seriously making blowjob cupcakes?” Ryan asks, before losing his composure again and breaking into another fit of laughter.
“No!” Brendon squeaks. “Why would you...? I'm making Brendon and Jon cupcakes!” He looks back and forth, between Ryan and the cupcakes, eyes lingering on the B and J he'd written inside a heart on the tops of the cakes. “Oh my God,” Brendon says, realizing. “Oh my God! I... I totally didn't!”
Ryan wishes he had a camera; Brendon's face is priceless.
-
Brendon and Jon sit down on either side of Ryan at exactly the same time. Ryan shoots a worried glance at Spencer, who's in the big chair, reading a book.
“We want to trash the whole thing,” Brendon says seriously, eyes wide.
“Um. We already had this conversation?” Ryan tries.
“No, I mean---we mean, seriously. Let's just scrap it.”
“It's not that it's bad, or anything,” Jon adds when he sees Ryan open his mouth. “I mean, it's great, but we're not getting anywhere. We need to start over, give ourselves a clean slate.”
“Wha---” Ryan starts.
“This isn't fun,” Brendon says.
“This is work,” Spencer observes, setting his book down. “It's not supposed to be fun.”
Except all of them know it's supposed to be fucking fun.
“Can I think about it?” Ryan says, “And Spencer too, yeah?” He looks at Spencer. His eyes kind of say ‘side with me so I don't look like an asshole who thinks he decides the whole fate of the band.’ Or something. Spencer's good at reading Ryan's eyes.
“We should all think about it,” Spencer agrees.
-
Ryan's sulking in his room, and Spencer decides it's his duty as best friend to cheer him up.
“Whatcha eating?” Spencer asks. He sits on the bed and crosses his legs.
“Brendon made Jon blowjob cupcakes. I stole one.” Ryan’s voice is muffled by a mouthful of cupcake.
“Oh, where? I want one!” Spencer says, trying to snatch the remainder of the cake out of Ryan's hand.
“A blowjob or a cupcake?” Ryan asks, face straight, waving his arm around to avoid Spencer's hand.
Spencer blushes. “A cupcake, you ass,” he mumbles, batting at Ryan's arm.
-
The thing is, Spencer knows it's not working. It's only Ryan who wants to keep doing this. Spencer mostly thinks Ryan's afraid this is the best he can do. Spencer knows that's bullshit. He doesn't know how to tell Ryan without pissing him off, though. It seems like everything he's been doing has been pissing off Ryan, lately.
“You're full of bullshit,” Spencer says once he decides there isn't a way to say it without pissing Ryan off. It comes out meaner than he meant it.
“Good to know.” Ryan doesn't even look up from his notepad. “What rhymes with 'seven'?”
“Eleven. No, seriously,” Spencer insists. “The whole story thing? It sucks.”
Ryan looks up, hurt and maybe just the other side of furious.
“The fuck?” The story thing is Ryan's baby. Spencer maybe didn't think this through.
“Jon and Brendon are right. You can do better. We can do better.” Spencer plows on, anyway. He's too bitter, too angry for this discussion. Spencer thinks he probably should have dealt with the Ryan and Jon thing before the album thing, but hindsight is always 20/20. “As a band.”
So maybe Ryan will hate him for this, okay. Spencer can deal. This is his life they're messing with. He'd rather be down a friend than a job.
Ryan scowls. “Okay.”
He isn't agreeing. Fuck, Spencer thinks. He'd definitely rather be down a band than a best friend. At this point, though, Spencer's sure he can salvage the former. He's not really sure about that latter.
“You could do better than this if you could get your head out of your ass and listen to us,” Spencer says resentfully. He hadn't sounded quite so hostile in his head. Fuck, Spencer thinks again.
“Fuck you,” Ryan says evenly, too calm, and keeps writing.
Spencer flicks him off and leaves the room. “You can do better than rhyming about stupid, fucking pesticides,” he spits over his shoulder, slamming the door. He's not entirely sure Ryan will even get what he's talking about.
“Yeah, well,” Ryan snaps at the wood. “What if I can't?”
-
Ryan doesn't sleep in Spencer's bed that night. He shivers until he gets the comforter out from under his fucking bed.
-
“Jon, JonJonJon,” Brendon whispers. “Jonny, I'm out of ideas.”
Jon rolls onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. Brendon stretches out on the patio beside him.
“Ideas for what?” Jon asks.
“For seducing you! Has it been working at all?” Brendon moans.
Jon is confused. “Working on me or Spencer?”
“Why would I be trying to seduce Spencer?” Brendon asks.
Jon doesn't know how to answer that, so he doesn't.
-
It's the first time they've really been out. Apart from going to the grocery store, the four of them have been complete hermits.
“Seriously, how have we not been into town yet?” Brendon wonders. He's walking backwards along the sidewalk, and every once and a while Jon grabs his shirt and steers him around a trash can or a lamp post. Surprisingly enough, he's only crashed into something once. That something was a woman, which is kind of bad, probably, but secretly Jon thinks she was pretty blitzed, so it's not like she'll remember in the morning. Jon wishes he asked her where the bar was, though, because it's the one thing they haven't found. There's a movie rental and a toy store, a car rental and a coin laundry, along with a smattering of clothing stores, but nowhere to get alcohol, other than the grocery store. (The beer there is ridiculously priced. Jon bought it on the first shopping trip and Spencer flipped a shit, nearly screeching, “Is it made of gold?” Jon was not aware that rock stars had a price limit on their alcohol, but Spencer had a point. It was shitty beer.) And that all boils down to the fact that Jon has not had enough to drink in the past few weeks.
“There's no thrift stores of any value,” Spencer and Ryan say together; except Ryan is completely sincere, and Spencer's monotone is clearly mocking.
“I hate you so much,” Ryan says, glaring; Ryan tries to unhook his arm from Spencer's, but Spencer pulls Ryan's arm closer to his side, trapping him.
“Hey, I'm sorry, just,” Spencer whispers, quiet enough that only Ryan hears. Louder, he says, “Dude, you've told me that at least six times since we've been here. 'Nothing compares to that Goodwill we found on the way up. I've been completely spoiled blah blah blaaaah,' ” Spencer imitates. Ryan glowers, knocking his shoulder against Spencer's.
“I want something to drink,” Jon says.
“I want something to eat!” Brendon exclaims, as if he just realized it. “I'm starving. When did we have lunch?”
“Dunno,” Ryan says. “I don't think I've looked at a clock in days. Wait no, that's a lie. My phone has a clock on it.”
“A real clock. Do we even have a real clock?” Spencer wonders. “I never noticed one.”
Brendon frowns. “Isn't it like, required or something? All houses have a clock. It's---isn't it? I don't know. Maybe cabins don't have clocks?”
“Dunno,” Ryan says again. “Food. Food, that sounds amazing. Let's do that.”
“I think there's a diner a little ways up,” Jon says. “Like, right where the strip mall starts.”
Ryan asks, “Close enough to walk?”
Spencer makes a face, mumbling, “As if the car wasn't right there.”
Jon rubs his neck. “I don't really remember.”
“Good enough for me,” Brendon concludes. He spins around, faces forward and doubles his pace. “Onwards.”
-
“This doesn't look promising,” Ryan drawls.
“There are balloons!” Brendon says. “Balloons are promising!”
“Way e's Ca Daler...hip?” Spencer says. He blinks. “Oh my God, Jon, you suck.”
The building is faded blue-gray. The paint has nearly completely chipped away. The windows say, “Wayne's Car Dealership” in faded black scrawl, and underneath that, “Always the Low-low-low-LOWEST prices!”
The letters have fallen off the building, probably years ago. Brendon can't stop snickering. Whatever Jon thought he saw, it wasn't here. There's no way this ever could have been a restaurant. Ryan's sitting on a rusted car with “SUPER CLOSEOUT PRICE!” written across the window shield. The car creaks under his weight --- which doesn't say much for the car: Ryan's a twig.
Brendon's investigating the building, wading through the overgrown weeds to test the door. It's locked, of course.
“I'm really sorry,” Jon says, scuffing his feet in the gravel.
Ryan snorts, watching Brendon scale the side of the building, looking for an entrance. When he disappears around the edge, Ryan asks, “How long are we gonna stay here? I really am hungry.”
Jon smiles indulgently. “Let's let Brendon frolic around for a while, he's having so much fun.”
“You'll spoil him, Jon,” Spencer cautions sagely, shaking his head.
They sit in companionable silence – well, Ryan sits. Jon and Spencer stand -- until Brendon's shriek echoes through their ears.
“Oh my fucking God!” Brendon screams nonsensically.
Ryan stands up, and Jon's already running towards the edge of the building.
“The fucking letter nearly fucking fell on me!” Brendon yells, holding a yellowed letter to his chest. He shoots across the parking lot, barreling into Jon.
“Are you okay?” Jon asks, Brendon sprawled across him, panting.
“Oh my God, this is so cool,” Brendon says as they walk back to the car.
“You nearly, like, died. How is that cool?” Spencer asks.
“It was exciting!” Brendon squeals. “I have a letter!”
-
It wasn't really close enough to walk -- or to walk back -- but they all have enough fun teasing Jon about thinking an abandoned car dealership was a diner that they don't really notice how long it takes. Brendon even stops complaining in favor of grinning insultingly at Jon and babbling about his letter.
“I never said I was sure that it actually was a restaurant!” Jon defends himself, shrugging and running ahead to avoid his bandmates’ eyes. “You’re all assholes.”
“Fuck, I'm hungry,” Brendon moans during a lull in conversation. “Jon, I'm going to starve because of you! I won’t even have a chance to call Bill Beckett and gloat. He's gonna be so jealous. He would totally put it on his wall.”
Ryan tisks-tisks disapprovingly, “Don't you think we've already taken enough from Bill? I hear we're no longer welcome on TAI's bus.”
“We did not steal Jon!” Brendon says, astonished. “Why do people keep saying that? Jon came willingly! Of his own free will!” He turns his eyes on Jon, appealing, “Didn't you, Jon? Didn't you? You totally love us.”
“Of course I do,” Jon confirms. “Besides, 'Steal' is such an ugly word. I prefer, 'borrowed with full intentions of returning until we realized we didn't want to give him back anymore.' ”
“I think that's probably several words,” Spencer adds helpfully.
-
They find an IHOP, and fans.
“Oh my God!” the redheaded squeals. “You guys are fabulous! Are you---Are you guys writing the record? Here?”
The blonde squeaks, no seriously, she squeaks, and says, “I totally read your blog, Ryan --- Ryan Ross ---” she says to herself, like she can't believe it, “---that you guys were gonna go up to some cabin and write? Or something? I didn't know you meant here, oh my God.”
“Try to write, is more like,” Brendon grins. The blonde's eyes light up and she's bouncing, Spencer notices. The redhead looks slightly embarrassed by her friend, but doesn't say anything. She looks pretty star-struck, too, anyway.
A tall, skinny boy in tight jeans wraps his arms around the redhead's waist, sticking his chin over her shoulder. “Hey, who are you talki---Dude. It's Panic at the Disco.”
“No fucking duh,” the blonde says.
The redhead twists back to kiss his cheek. “This is my gay boyfriend, Jin.”
“Hello!” Brendon says cheerfully. Ryan and Spencer mumble their hellos. Jon waves.
The guy---Jin swats at her. “Hi,” he says, and at the redhead, “Don't kiss me. It's gross.”
Ryan raises an eyebrow, curiously amused. “What exactly does a 'gay boyfriend' entail?” he asks. Jin detaches himself from the redhead ---they never got the girls' names, Spencer notices. He doesn't ask. It's not like he'll remember them later.
The blonde says, “We drag him around where ever we go.”
“Ah,” Ryan smirks.
Brendon scoots over, squashing Jon and Spencer to the edge of the booth. “You should eat with us! There's space.”
“Um,” Jon says dubiously, from where he's pressed against the wall. The girls look like they just won the lottery though, and even Jin cracks a hopeful smile, so Jon doesn't say anything else.
“Really? You guys don't mind?” the blonde asks. Spencer revises his opinion of her as the crazy one. Most people wouldn't even blink before accepting that offer, much less give them a chance to rethink it.
“Naaah,” Ryan urges, getting out of the booth and patting the gaudy red pleather. “Come on, eat waffles with us.”
-
“So this is pretty awesome. Why are you guys in Mount Charleston, anyway? Vegas seems like a more exciting place for a rockstar...” Jin says.
“They're from Vegas, you retard,” the redhead whispers loudly, punching his shoulder.
“Hey, just 'cause I don't internet stalk them doesn't mea---”
The blonde kicks him under the table, hard. Jin winces. “Uh. Never mind,” and then, “Ow, Jesus fucking Christ are you wearing steel-toed boots or something?”
“We're writing,” Ryan says. “We thought Vegas would be distracting.”
The redhead looks affronted. “I totally told you that a couple days ago, were you listening to me at all?”
Jin has the decency to look slightly guilty. “Define 'listening'...”
“You suck,” the blonde says.
Brendon giggles at them.
-
“I've gotta go to the bathroom.” Ryan looks straight at Jin while he gets up, which Spencer thinks is pretty funny, because Ryan's sitting on the edge of the booth. It's not like anyone is in his way.
Jin looks confused for a full sixty seconds, but then he grins and slides out of the booth. “Uh, yeah, be right back.”
-
The blonde finally asks, “Okay, so what's with the letter?” It's been sitting on the table the whole time, but no one's mentioned it yet.
“Ah, the pink elephant in the room,” Jon replies, leaning back.
Brendon grins, “It's totally the best story ever, you guys.” The girls' eyes light up and Brendon gestures wildly as he speaks. “So Jon found this abandoned car dealership---”
-
“That's so cool,” the redhead says dreamily when Jin comes back first, fifteen minutes later. (Spencer's still trying to figure out how Brendon made that story last fifteen minutes.)
“Hey,” Jin says, voice rough. Brendon's eyes just about pop out of his head, he's staring so hard. Jin waves. “Um,” he says, shying away from Brendon's gaze.
Jon giggles when Ryan comes back thirty seconds later. Ryan's slightly flushed, a pink tint across his neck and cheeks. Spencer wants to hit things. Specifically Jin.
“Oh my,” the redhead mumbles.
“Brendon just told us the best story ever, Jin!” The blonde squeals. The redhead elbows her. “What?” the blonde says.
The two girls do something freaky with their eyes -- not unlike Spencer and Ryan's silent conversations, and the blonde's eyes just about double in size.
She blinks. “Uh, er, we have to. Go. Curfew. Jin has a curfew.”
“At eight o' clock?” Ryan notes incredulously. He keeps elbowing Jon, trying to get him to shut up, but it just makes him giggle harder. Brendon's lips twitch.
“Yes!” the redhead says. “Jin's parent's are... Okay let's... yeah.” She grabs Jin around the waist and hurries him out the door, the blonde following close behind. Jon lays bent over the table, shoulders shaking. He pounds his fist on the tabletop.
When the Jin and the girls are out of hearing range, Jon says, “Ryan, you slut!” and giggles more.
“I. Um.” Ryan mumbles.
Brendon finally breaks into laughter, choking-out, “Oh God, sorry, I just can't---”
Just before the door closes, Spencer hears a whooping call of “Details?!” and Jon collapses on the table again, Brendon hysterical at his side.
Spencer doesn't really understand why it's so funny.
-
They get back to the cabin, Brendon leaps out of the car, nearly dropping the W when he trips on the steps.
“What the hell?” Jon asks.
“He is so weird,” Ryan says.
Spencer follows a step behind, hands clenched into fists. He feels like a clock that someone wound too tight.
-
Brendon slides out of Jon's room just as Jon gets to the top of the stairs.
“What the hell?” Jon repeats.
“I—you. It's a surprise,” is all the Brendon says and he disappears down the hallway and into his room.
“Whatever,” Jon dismisses the exchange and goes into his room. There's a giant yellow W on his bed. The first thing Jon can think to do is kiss Brendon the way he's wanted to since they first met.
“There isn't a W in my name,” Brendon gasps, his hands in Jon's hair. “It was perfect for you.”
“You and your Goddamn mouth,” Jon grumbles.
“That's been said to me a surprising number of times, actually,” Brendon comments, smiling.
Jon says, “No, I mean, shut up.” And Brendon does.
-
“I think Brendon is onto us,” Ryan whispers conspiratorially. “He just told me to 'Go get 'em, Tiger.' ” Ryan laughs lightly, pulling back the sheets.”I wonder why he's in such a good mood,” Spencer puts down his book, glaring.
“Jesus, is that your response to everything?” Spencer snaps. “Getting into bed with people?”
“What are you---?” Ryan starts to ask, backing away from the bed.
Spencer's not having any of that. “You fucked some groupie in the bathroom, what the fuck.”
“We didn't fuck,” Ryan spits. “He gave me---I don't have to explain myself to you.”
“I---I. Why'd you do it?” Spencer screeches, standing up. “Was he your 'type' or something?”
Ryan crosses his arms. “I don't have a 'type'. Anyway, I'm single. I'm allowed to fuck whoever I want.”
“In the bathroom?” Spencer says. “What, he wasn't classy enough to take you to his house?”
“I wasn't going anywhere with him!” Ryan says. “I was hanging out with you guys! I wasn't gonna ditch you.”
“No, you just wanted to get something on the side,” Spencer spits.
“No! What the---Spencer, what's wrong with you? Why the hell would I go somewhere with a fan I don't even know?”
“Oh, so you won’t go to his house, but you'll fuck him?” Spencer questions mockingly. “What the hell, Ryan! You shouldn't fuck people you don't trust!”
“The only fucking people I trust are you and the rest of our friends! You think I should fuck one of them?”
Yes, Spencer thinks, but he says, “Well, you could fuck Jon! It's already been proved you can kiss him without making it awkward! Why don't you take the next step?”
“Oh my God, what is your problem?” Ryan shrieks.
“First Jon---”
“This isn't about Jon!” Ryan screams, tearing at his hair. “What is it with you and Jon? Do you like him? Do you want him?”
Spencer can't think of a way to answer those questions without incriminating himself. So he just keeps talking, “---and now some random guy?” Spencer asks, loud and angry. “You're such a slut, Ryan.”
Spencer voice is harsh, nothing like Jon's at the diner.
Ryan's mouth sets in a hard line. He turns around and leaves Spencer's room without a word, door slamming behind him.
Well, fuck, Spencer thinks. He sleeps alone that night, just like last night, just like the nights to come.
-
Spencer collapses on the roof, spreading out across the shingles.
“Hello?” someone says a little while later. Jon, Spencer thinks.
“Ryan hates me,” Spencer moans when Jon sits next to him, crossing his legs.
“Why?” Jon asks.
Spencer stares at the clouds. He thinks he sees a duck, but every second it breaks apart and gets fuzzier and fuzzier. “The sky looks like a painting,” Spencer says instead of answering Jon's question.
“So you don't know why he hates you, okay,” Jon says, mostly to himself. “The sky always looks like a painting here. Did you see it last week when it rained?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says. He remembers, the sky opened up and it poured all day. The clouds were nearly black, so thick that only a few streams of sunlight peeked through. There wasn't any lightning, no thunder, but the clouds were an ominous presence by themselves.
“I took some pictures. I wonder how they'll turn out,” Jon wonders, stretching out next to Spencer. “It's nice out today... Not too hot.”
Spencer turns his head to look at Jon. “Why are we talking about the weather?”
Jon looks surprised. “You brought it up, Smith.”
Spencer snorts. Jon raises his eyebrows --- he's still waiting for an answer, so Spencer says, “I was a jealous bitch.”
Jon nods. “This is a problem.”
“I was jealous of you,” Spencer laughs, and it's not funny at all.
-
Ryan slumps into one of the folding chairs. He pulls at his shirt where it rides up. This shirt used to fit him perfectly, but that was a long time ago. Ryan won’t throw it out, no matter how small it gets; this is the shirt Spencer gave him.
Brendon and Jon are sprawled across the cement. The bridge of Brendon's nose is pink from the sun.
“Spencer thinks I hate him,” Ryan says.
Brendon raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”
“No. Sort of.” Ryan pauses. “Not any more than usual.”
Brendon nods slowly, folding his hands in his lap. He looks like a shrink. “Is your reason for hating him legitimate?”
“Is it ever?” Jon asks.
“Shut up, Jon,” Brendon says. Jon does. “Ryan?” Brendon prompts.
“Yes. ...Sort of.” Ryan sighs. “Not any more than usual.”
-
Spencer feels like such a creep, staring out the window, smiling at the way Ryan keeps tugging on his shirt, as if he could somehow make it three inches longer just by pulling on it.
Jon and Brendon are sprawled next to him, and Spencer feels slightly left out, sitting alone while the rest of his band congregates without him. But if Spencer went outside, he wouldn't be able to watch the way the light hits Ryan's cheek bones, and that's not something he's about to give up.
Spencer knows he's a creep; he just can't bring himself to care.
-
And it's awkward. Oh God, it's awkward.
“I'm--- Sorry. Lemme, yeah, just---” Ryan says softly when he and Spencer meet in the hallway. Ryan moves left, and Spencer moves right. “Other way, I'll---”
“Oh,” Spencer says, going the other direction, only to nearly bump into Ryan, again.
“Wow, this is really, really not working,” Ryan says, stopping completely and letting Spencer walk around him. Spencer has an all-encompassing urge to bang his head on a wall.
This really isn't working.
-
“Have we completely abandoned your songs, Ryan?” Jon asks. It's the fourth practice they've played nothing but The Beatles.
“Our songs.” Ryan stresses. “And no. I'm—working on them. Can we just play?”
The worst part is that Ryan doesn't look at Spencer anymore while they play. It hurts more than Spencer thinks is really appropriate. Spencer misses Ryan turning around to play to him, misses the faces Ryan made when he didn't approve of Brendon's singing, misses the way Ryan's brows furrowed when he hit a difficult chord. Mostly, Spencer misses Ryan.
-
“I got a movie!” Brendon screams. Then, the door slams. Spencer can already tell this isn't going to be a quiet night.
“Oh my God, there had better be popcorn!” Jon yells.
“I bought some!” Brendon yells back.
“Can you guys be quiet?” Ryan says from up the stairs. “Inside voices!”
“Go to hell, Ryan!” Brendon says happily. “You're yelling too!”
“Jesus, shut the fuck up!” Spencer yells from where is on the couch. Brendon pokes his head into the living room, waving the Blockbuster bag at Spencer.
“Hi Spencer!” Brendon screams.
Spencer rolls his eyes. “You're a fucking moron, Brendon.”
“So I've been told,” Brendon says solemnly, quietly --- but then, Brendon screeches at the top of his lungs, “JON AND RYAN GET DOWN HERE; YOU'RE GOING TO MISS THE CREDITS!”
“Oh, God, it was just too much to ask for some peace,” Spencer mumbles, abandoning his book. “So what are we watching?”
“Cloverfield!”
“The JJ Abrams movie!” Jon says.
“How do you even know that?” Spencer asks.
“Hello? Lost? Tell me you've heard of Lost.”
“Um,” Spencer says.
“Oh my god. What, do you guys live under a rock? First, I have to introduce you to The O.C. and now I have to make you watch Lost, too?”
“Another chick show, Jon?” Ryan asks. “What's the premise of this 'Lost'?”
“Not a chick show, dude! It's completely manly! There are explosions and planes and islands... and...” Jon's obviously running out of steam. He waves his arms around. “...And polar bears! Miracles!”
“Miracles?” Brendon echoes. “Dude, that totally sounds like a chick show.”
“I hate you all,” Jon says. “Really. Don't make fun of my TV; you know you love it.”
“Sure, sure,” Spencer says, but he's the one that always knows when new episodes of the O.C. are online, so he can't even talk.
-
When the movie is over, Spencer can't bring himself to get up, because Ryan is asleep on his shoulder. Brendon and Jon grin at him, but they don't make him move.
“Oh, it is looooove,” Brendon sings quietly, poking Spencer's ribs. Spencer holds his breath so he doesn't squirm.
“From the first time I set my eyes upon yours, thinking, 'Oh is it love?'” Jon sings straight to Brendon. Spencer can see the way both of their cheeks change colors, even in the dark.
Spencer grins, it's impossible to help.
-
When Spencer wakes up, some time past three in the morning, Ryan's gone, but there's a blanket across his lap, and it's still warm where Ryan was sitting.
-
“Oh, I--- sorry, Spencer.” Ryan mumbles, squatting down to pick up Spencer's magazine.
“We've gotta stop meeting like this,” Spencer jokes. Ryan's lips twist, but it doesn't look entirely pleased. The only time they ever talk lately, it's to apologize. Spencer's sick of it.
“Sorry,” Ryan apologizes. Spencer wants to bang his head on a wall.
“Hey, look. Ryan,” Spencer says, ignoring the outstretched magazine. “I'm sorry---”
“But you didn't---”
“No, Ryan. I'm sorry.” He holds Ryan's gaze, praying he'll get it. “Look, don't make me say it. For calling you---”
“Yeah, okay. Um.” Ryan nods, pushing the magazine at Spencer's chest. “Take this, I—I don't want it.”
When Spencer takes it, Ryan pushes past him without another word.
Spencer isn't sure if things are better or worse between them.
-
When they decide to leave, they don't have anything that could resemble an album. Secretly, Ryan is kind of freaking out.
“We just need a change of scenery!” Brendon says confidently. “The feng shui is all wrong here. I bet you we'd get more done hanging out in your backyard, or something.”
“Why my backyard?” Ryan asks.
“Mine is dead and Spencer's is ugly,” Brendon says, nodding. “It'll have to be your yard.”
-
Inexplicably, Brendon finished packing his shit first, and now he's just floating between the rooms, being as annoying as he can. Or being distracting.
“I've gotta pack,” Jon says, anguished. “You should go bother Spencer, now.”
“Nah,” Brendon decides, scraping his teeth across Jon's ear. “This is more fun.”
“I hate you,” Jon says, trying to fold shirts and fend Brendon off at the same time.
“Except there's no way you really do,” Brendon insists, managing to pin Jon to the bed, and draw a real kiss out of him. “See? That wasn't so hard.” Brendon stretches across Jon, lazily setting his head in the crook of Jon's neck. “I'm really easy to please.”
Jon raises his eyebrows, and Brendon giggles, leaning close to share Jon's breath.
“Hey, I think this is yours---” Ryan says, opening the door. Brendon reacts immediately, rolling off Jon and onto the floor with a thud.
“Ow,” he says.
Ryan shakes his head and throws the t-shirt, which is indeed Jon's, at the bed. “What are you doing, Brendon?”
“Checking for intruders!” Brendon exclaims. “There's no one under the bed, Jon! We're all clear.”
Ryan mutters something about freaks and shuts the door.
“We should probably tell them,” Jon says. Brendon giggles into the floor.
-
“Why the fuck is there a tambourine in the cabinet?” Ryan asks.
“Oh my God!” Brendon screams. “Oh my God, how could that even get in there?”
-
Everything is ready to go for the morning. All they have to do is load it all into the car and drive away --- Spencer already called the office to check-out. Still, he can't believe they're leaving.
“I just can't imagine being anywhere but here,” Spencer says aimlessly.
“Me and Jon are dating now,” Brendon mentions, out of the blue.
“What?” Spencer says, but then, “Wait, wait, I actually kind of saw that one coming.”
“Oh,” Brendon frowns. He gives Spencer an even look. “Wouldn't it be amazing if you could get over your shit and the whole band could be happy together?”
“Shut up,” Spencer says.
“You should talk to him.”
“Duh.”
-
“Me and Jon are going to buy pineapple pizza!” Brendon calls. “We'll be back later!”
“Pineapple?” Ryan wrinkles his nose.
“Don't worry, we'll get something disgusting and meaty for you, too, Ryan,” Brendon says.
“Delicious and meaty,” Ryan corrects.
“Sure, whatever,” Brendon says, and then to Spencer, “Spencer Smith, don't be a pussy!”
Jon tugs Brendon out the door, and they both giggle the whole way out.
“What?” Ryan asks, awkward but he's talking to Spencer, on purpose, of his own free will, and it's awesome.
“It's Brendon,” Spencer says, like that explains it.
“Jon told me they're dating,” Ryan says, and he's starting a conversation. Spencer can't think of a time when he's been happier than right now. “What are you smiling so hard about?' Ryan asks when Spencer only manages to nod.
There's no way in hell Spencer's going to tell him.
-
Spencer prepares a speech, but forgets half of it as soon as he's face to face with Ryan. Spencer wishes he'd written it down, but it's too late now.
So Spencer improvises. “Okay, here's the thing. You're our lyricist, Ryan, and if you want to write an album about The Seven Deadly Sins or, like, plagiarize Margaret Mitchell, or, or whatever, anything you can think of, then that's what we'll do. Whether it takes six months or six years, we'll fucking do it,” Spencer says. Ryan has stopped writing in his journal completely; his whole attention is focused on Spencer. “And I don't want you to hate me anymore, and I don't want it to be awkward, and I don't want to keep screwing things up. You're my best friend, and I can't---”
“Do you wanna, just. Start over?” Ryan asks, he stands up, he wrings his hands, and he bites his lip. Spencer hasn't seen Ryan nervous in a long time.
Spencer stares at him. “The album?”
“That, too.”
Spencer stares some more. “As long as you promise we can start over again if this is really weird.”
“I---what?” Ryan asks. Spencer interrupts him with a kiss. It's sweet and simple, but only because Spencer thinks he'd give himself an aneurysm if he tried anything else. Spencer's hands flutter by his sides, unsure of what's okay. Ryan laces their fingers together, pulling Spencer's arms until they're wrapped around his waist.
Even after the kiss is over, it's a long time before Ryan drops Spencer's hands.
-
the end~
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