the elephant is in the pyjamas of the lyrical I (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} battleofhydaspe) wrote,@ 2008-12-18 20:17:00 |
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the sun smells too loud, part 1
the sun smells too loud
(Brendon/Spencer, nc-17, 19,000 words)
College AU. Spencer catches up with his bi-curiousness, Cassie and Brendon are BFFs since kindergarten, Ryan makes people watch French movies and Jon smokes up during work hours.
Many, many thanks towordsalone for looking this over, to disarm_d for helping me decide what I wanted to do with this story, and to provetheworst for supplying me with blowjob music. ♥
Mini soundtrack can be found here. Just a couple of songs featured in the story.
Spencer meets Cassie at a party. It wouldn’t make a good ‘how I met your mother’ story because, well. She calls him on a drinking game and when Spencer asks her out he’s literally under the table. She’s two seconds from joining him there but it’s mostly because she is laughing hard at him and his slurred speech.
They go out once but that's it. There's even this attempt at sex but it ends with a black eye on Spencer's part and they're both too busy laughing their asses off to take it any further.
It doesn’t stop Spencer from demanding a rematch every once in a while. It doesn’t stop him from losing every single time, either.
“She’s just too hardcore for me,” Spencer complains, head propped on his arms, watching Ryan move around the kitchen, “Hey, more.”
“And you say that based solely on the fact that she kicks your ass every time you try to keep pace with her while drinking?” Ryan asks, sliding some more scrambled eggs off the pan he’s holding, “And since when I’m your maid, Smith?”
“Since forever, Ross, I own your ass. And yes, that’s what I base it on.”
“Well. You’re probably right.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m perfectly capable of holding my liquor under any other circumstances.”
“If you want someone who you can out-drink, you can always try dating Ryan,” Keltie suggest from the other side of the table.
Spencer and Ryan both make a face and Ryan points the spatula at her, “Eat your breakfast.”
“I’m just saying,” she holds her hands up.
“Remind me why do I deal with you both?”
“Because Spencer owns your ass and I give awesome head?”
“Too much information,” Spencer protests and covers his ears.
“Like you didn’t know already,” Ryan snorts.
“I wouldn’t if you bothered to close the fucking door sometimes. Hey, why do I put up with you?”
*
Spencer meets Brendon through Cassie. He's an International Relations major with a minor in Music which is maybe kind of an odd combination but hey, Spencer's seen weirder things. Like, say, any given vest Ryan insisted on wearing last year. Spencer is really glad Ryan's over that, it's easier to show in public with him now.
Brendon, on the other hand, wears pants that are probably tight enough to cut off blood circulation and ridiculous sneakers that make Spencer's head spin a little. He bonds with Ryan over The Beatles and after a week they plan on starting a cover band together. It never happens, which Spencer is extremely grateful for. He can only stand so much of Ryan being artistic on a daily basis. Let alone the fact Ryan hasn't played guitar since high school and stopped singing after his voice broke in 9th grade.
*
It’s Thursday afternoon and Spencer’s supposed to meet with Cassie to go grab something to eat. Except it’s been twenty minutes and she’s still nowhere to be seen, which doesn't happen often. She doesn't operate on the plus-thirty system most of Spencer's friends do.
Spencer considers calling her but then thinks her classes must have gotten delayed or something. He’s sitting in a comfy booth in a nice diner, he might as well just wait. Practice his zen or whatever. He orders a kebab sandwich because he hasn’t had the time to eat a proper meal since the bowl of cereal in the morning and improving his zen definitely doesn’t require being hungry. And if it does, Spencer doesn’t care. He wants a kebab sandwich.
He’s just biting into it when Brendon shows up in the door, looking around. Spencer waves at him with one greasy hand.
“What’s up with your cell?” Brendon asks as he slides into the booth, kicking his bag under the table.
“Why?” Spencer frowns.
“Cassie’s been trying to call you.”
Spencer wipes his fingers in a tissue and fishes the cell out of the pocket of his jeans. “Shit. The battery died.”
“That’s what she thought. She sent me to tell you she’ll be late. Impromptu comfort drinking session with a friend of hers.”
“Is she even going to make it?” Spencer asks, dubiously.
“She said she’ll try. I can keep you company for a while if you want, I’m on the campus anyway.”
“Yeah, sure. You hungry?”
They spend almost an hour there, stuffing themselves with junk food and talking before Cassie calls Brendon’s cell asking if Spencer’s with him.
“Cass,” Brendon says, passing the phone to Spencer.
“Say ‘incomprehensible’,” Spencer demands in lieu of hello.
“Fuck you, I’m not even going to try,” Cassie laughs, “I won’t make it today, I’m sorry.”
“I kinda figured.”
“Are you mad?”
“No. Brendon was just telling me about the hygienic procedures in Baroque, so.”
“Getting rid of the louses from the wigs with the little hammers? Oh God, that was so gross.”
“Yeah, it was.” Spencer makes a face at Brendon across the table. Brendon laughs and shrugs in a ‘you asked’ manner.
“Hey, listen. I need to get going. Lucy’s about to puke in a pot plant, I think. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay, sure. See you!”
“She used to beat kids in the sandbox when she was a kid,” Brendon says when Spencer hands him the phone back.
“Why am I not surprised?” Spencer laughs, sliding lower in his seat and reaching for his soda. “How long have you guys known each other?”
“I was one of those kids she used to beat the crap out of in the sandbox.” Brendon laughs. “We used to live next to each other for years, went to the same high school and shit. Then she came up here for college and I half-accidentally followed.”
“Half-accidentally?”
“Yeah. I kinda, uh, flipped a coin?”
“You’re both ridiculous.”
“It’s osmosis, there’s nothing I can do.” Brendon grins and stretches. “I gotta go. I’m teaching piano to a couple kids from the local high school. I’m supposed to meet them in half an hour.”
Spencer holds up his hand when Brendon walks past. Brendon smiles and waves back. Spencer watches until he disappears around the corner. He’s full and sleepy and it takes him another couple of minutes to get up and go home.
*
By the end of the semester Spencer starts spending a lot of time in the library, for two reasons. One of them is that Ryan and Keltie apparently have too much free time on their hands, which they chose to spend on having loud sex. Second, if a little less important, Spencer’s finals are going to be real bitch and he figures there's nothing wrong with doing studying ahead of time instead of leaving it for the week before the exam.
The novelty of being a diligent student wears off soon and Spencer starts looking for another past-time. This is where Brendon comes in handy.
Turns out Brendon made friends with the janitor back during his second semester and now he’s a proud owner of a spare set of keys to the campus pool. Spencer finds out about it by accident, running into Brendon on his way back from the library one day. He probably doesn’t look too well-rested and relaxed because Brendon just grabs him by the sleeve and takes Spencer with him.
“Sorry about that,” Brendon giggles, throwing Spencer a pair of bright pink shorts once they’re inside, “I didn’t buy them myself, I swear.”
They spend nearly two hours at the pool, swimming the length back and forth slowly. It’s pretty dark inside, just the lights in the locker room are on. “I like it better this way,” Brendon had said and Spencer didn’t feel the need to argue. He kind of likes it better like that, too.
The water is warm and smooth over his skin when he dives down and swims underwater. He keeps his eyes open even though the chlorine is going to make them sting like a bitch and he can't see much anyway.
When he emerges, spluttering a little and brushing the water of his face, Brendon's just passing by. There's something mesmerizing about the steady rhythm of his movements, the way his arms raise and dive back into the water as he does the crawl stroke. One, two, three, a gulp of air, one, two, three. Spencer watches him until he ducks under the water, turns a somersault and pushes off the edge of the pool with his feet. Brendon's completely focused, Spencer doesn't even think he's aware of his presence at the very moment. It's kind of sexy. Which, what?
Spencer shakes his head and dives back underwater.
“You’re welcome to join me whenever you want,” Brendon tells him later, when Spencer steps out from under the blow-dryer.
“I might take you up on that,” Spencer rakes his hand through his hair, making sure he got it all. It’s been relatively cool lately and catching a cold now would be stupid.
“Feel free to. I’m here few times a week so just let me know if you feel like swimming.”
“Will do. Thanks.” Spencer grins at him and grabs his hoodie from the bench, pulls it on. It’s almost summer already, what the fuck. He really shouldn’t have moved out of the desert.
Brendon lets them out and they head into opposite directions. When Spencer gets back, Ryan and Keltie are not home, for a change. Spencer considers barricading himself in the living room and jerking off, just because he can. He ends up trying to study and falls asleep three pages in.
*
There’s something about Brendon that makes Spencer a little uneasy around him on occasions. He chalks it up to his imagination for the most part, like the the way Brendon moves sometimes, slow and lazy and stupidly sexy, like he knows Spencer is watching him and cranks it up a little for his benefit. Or the way he would glance up from a piece of paper covered in messy notes that look like little, crazy ants with a corner of his mouth shifting upwards just a fraction. It’s about those goddamn come-fuck-me eyes that he gets when he’s sleepy or tired or a little drunk. Brendon is a little flirty with almost everyone, from Ryan to the lady at the campus cafeteria, so it probably doesn’t mean much when he does that with Spencer.
But then, Spencer sees Brendon kiss a guy, and it kind of fucks with his head a little. And not for the reason he would think it would.
The finals fly by and before Spencer can blink, it’s summer break. There’s a party at one of the dorms to celebrate and there are three drunk people lying on the front lawn by the time they get there. It's only half past eight.
Spencer is planning on joining them soon. No more Econometrics ever again, this calls for a toast, or two. Or twenty.
The party is wild but it also winds down pretty quickly. There are not many people left at three in the morning when Spencer ditches two girls from his Macro class and a guy from the Management class. The dorm is one of those that were turned into a dorm from a regular – however big - house. It has no more that fifteen rooms and there’s a honest to god patio at the back. It’s maybe half a story above the ground level and there’s something that used to be a garden once, surrounding it.
Spencer slides the glass door behind himself and slinks down onto the terracotta floor, nursing his beer. He takes a sip from time to time, just enjoying the warm, balsamic air and the relative lack of noise. He’s mostly sober now but still in that phase where he would kill himself laughing if someone pushed the right button.
And that’s when he sees them.
Spencer isn’t entirely sober, admittedly, but not enough so to mistake what he sees for something else. The lights coming from the house are enough to recognize a person, too. It’s Brendon, held against the side of the building by a guy Spencer doesn’t know. He’s tall, taller than Brendon – which isn’t much of an accomplishment, really, but that’s beside the point – and has one hand in Brendon’s hair, the other under his t-shirt.
What Spencer feels is not a shock. There's a whole bunch of different emotions cursing through his body and okay, surprise is there, too, but what makes Spencer think he might have a little problem is the fact that he can't tear his goddamn eyes off them.
He tightens his grip on the neck of the bottle when Brendon laughs breathlessly and says something Spencer can’t quite catch. It's a mystery how they don't see him. It's not like he's going to stand up and say hi, though.
“Wanna get out of here?” the other dude asks and Spencer can hear it perfectly clear this time.
"Yeah."
They make their way through the garden – it’s mostly just knee-high grass now – and Spencer hunches in on himself, trying to become invisible. It’d be fucking awkward if they caught him now.
Luckily, they have better things to do than looking around for possible voyeurs and Spencer’s dignity remains intact. Well, mostly, at least. He finishes his beer, now merely lukewarm, in one go and goes back inside to find another one. He feels definitely too sober to be having thoughts like this, flashing in vivid snapshots through his mind.
Finally, after chewing on this back and forth for a while, he decides to ask Cassie. It’s not all that important; Spencer just can’t get it out of his system. Which, for one thing, is downright weird. It’s not like he hasn’t been friends with Ryan Ross for the better part of his life. And Ryan, for all that he’s annoyingly heterosexual now, hasn’t always been the poster guy for heteronormativity. There was this guy, Pete-something, back when he was a sophomore that Spencer is pretty sure didn’t stay the night just to discuss e.e cummings. Although he could be wrong, you never know with Ryan. The point is, male on male action never made Spencer interested, never had him thinking about it. It's kind of awkward.
Finally, he reaches the point where he asks, “Brendon’s gay?” over a pizza he and Cassie are sharing, trying to make it as casual as possible. Spencer figures he doesn’t look overly intent with garlic sauce smeared all over his chin, so.
“He swings both ways. A bit more towards boys, though, I think. Why?”
“Nothing. I just saw him kissing this dude the other day and I was wondering.”
“That gonna be a problem?”
“Have you met Ryan?” Cassie may not know about Ryan’s bi-curious adventures of his youth but his clothing choices are enough to set a suitable impression if anything else fails, Spencer guesses.
“Yeah, okay. Point.” She laughs and tries to stuff half of the slice in her mouth. “Ha, beat that!”
“Oh, God. Are we five again?”
“Yes?”
“Fine.” Spencer rolls his eyes and puts the entire slice in his mouth with little to no effort at all. Cassie looks pretty broken.
*
Spencer gets a job at Starbucks for the summer. It’s three blocks from his apartment and gives him something to do while Ryan and Keltie are on their trip across the country. It’s a little too much 'Natural Born Killers' for Spencer’s liking and he’d be waiting to hear about them in the news were it not for the fact that Ryan is a fucking dandelion pussy. About Keltie, Spencer’s not so sure.
He’s still enjoying the lack of love birds in his life at the moment but it gets lonely after a while, being all by himself. It’s Brendon who says they’re looking for people at Starbucks, which he knows because Jon’s been pulling double shifts at least twice a week and complaining about it a lot. Jon, as in Jon Walker, the guy that to Spencer’s knowledge, is friends basically with everyone. And, apparently, also Brendon’s roommate.
Jon is a nice guy to work with. He’s very chill and smiles a lot so even if there’s a giant line at the counter people just can’t get mad at him. It’s some sort of a gift Spencer wishes he had, especially during the first week when he gets yelled at by an old lady for taking his time with her order that consists of, like, five billion things. He’s short of unleashing his inner bitch at her but Jon steps in right in time and helps Spencer avoid a possible lawsuit or a beat-down from her grandsons.
Jon’s gift, Spencer finds out during his third week at Starbucks, is mostly the effect of smoking pot during his working hours.
“Come on,” Jon gestures Spencer outside when they both have their break. There’s an old palette just behind the door and they both sit on it. It’s more of a crouch than an actual sitting position but after being up for five hours Spencer is not going to complain. He’s also not to going to say no when Jon lights up what certainly isn’t a cigarette and passes it over to him.
“Don’t worry about getting fired. It’s from Joe’s stash,” Jon grins and watches Spencer take a hit.
“Seriously?” Joe is their shift manager. Spencer's always liked him.
“Yep. He’s got the best shit.”
And yeah, he does. By the time their break is over, Spencer feels all fuzzy and a bit giggly.
“I hope we don’t have cops as customers,” he says, “or, like, an overprotective parent who learned how to recognize drug usage at a PTA meeting.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll disarm them with my pot charm,” Jon offers, heading back inside, “and if worse comes to worst, we can always call Brendon in. He’d pacify anyone.”
Spencer sure hopes so. He doesn’t want to go to jail. Ryan’s favorite band told him what they do to guys like them in prison when he was seventeen.
The Brendon in question shows up at Starbucks at five pm. It’s mostly a dead hour and they’re all bored but have to behave because of the few people that are still inside.
Jon leans over the counter to tug at Brendon’s hair while he’s contemplating today’s specials, “I’m hungry, Brendon, did you bring me food?”
“You have plenty of food here, Jon.”
“I want a burger, Brendon. A greasy burger with a ton of meat and three kinds of cheese and lots and lots of ketchup.”
Brendon pats him on the head and turns to Spencer, asking, “Give me a caramel macchiato?”
“Sure.” Spencer busies himself with preparing the coffee, listening to Jon and Brendon argue about whose turn it is to buy groceries. They don’t reach any kind of conclusion as far as Spencer can tell but they move on to the last episode of The O.C., which takes them half an hour to discuss. Spencer wishes Ryan was here to mock them both to death.
*
There's a girl that comes to Starbucks on every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday at four pm. She wears a scarf even though it's the middle of the summer and spends hours hunched over a thick notebook with a purpler cover. Spencer kind of misses Ryan, so it's probably why he asks her out on the second week.
Her name is Jess and she's this side of a little too engaged in the political situation in the Balkans but she also likes sex an lot so Spencer's willing to turn a blind eye to that. They're not really dating; he's basically just her rebound fuck. He doesn't mind at all. They have a great time.
*
Cassie comes back from visiting her parents two weeks before the holidays are over. There’s an impromptu party to celebrate that they take into the city, taking the El and being loud and obnoxious on the way, making other passengers glare at them. They go bowling; Cassie, Jess and Keltie team up against Spencer, Jon, Brendon and Ryan and win with a minimum effort. They end up being their slaves for the rest of the night, buying them ridiculous pink drinks and carrying them around as they please. It’s pretty awesome. Until Jon and Keltie end up in fountain, that is. Then, Spencer is too busy laughing his ass off to notice when Brendon sneaks up to him and the next thing he knows, he’s in the fountain himself.
He ends up with a cold, which is fucking ridiculous given that, technically, it's still summer. He makes Brendon buy him chicken soup at the Chinese restaurant nearby and Jon gives him two baggies of weed as a get-better gift. Things are pretty okay altogether.
*
Spencer keeps his job at Starbucks when the classes begin. It’s only for a couple hours now, though, and mostly in the afternoons. The first two months of school are pretty much uneventful so it's not much of a problem. Spencer steers clear of the parties, too, under the pretense of being a working man. He doesn't last long, though, and breaks when Jean Adams throws a party at her house. It’s more of a villa, actually, and it takes Spencer a few tries to navigate his way to the goddamn bathroom.
Some of Jess' Balkan-crazy friends are here so Spencer doesn’t feel too guilty for ditching her when Brendon catches him by the wrists and pulls him into an empty room. The joint Brendon produces from the pocket of his jeans is pretty much intact, which doesn’t make any sense given how tight the pants are.
Spencer’s already pretty drunk when he declares it an anti-physics joint and by the way Brendon giggles at that he figures Brendon’s isn’t too sober himself either.
The room that Brendon chose for a smoke-up den turns out to be some sort of a library. There are dark brown shelves running along every inch of the walls and a desk the size of Spencer’s bed. There are also two giant, leather armchairs they sink into, passing the joint back and forth. The only light in the room is the moonlight seeping in through the open curtains and Spencer watches as the smoke curls into the air, highlighted by a patch of bluish light here and there.
“I kind of want to marry Jean now,” Brendon says contemplatively, turning the spliff between his fingers, looking around the room.
“It’d be like a Frances Hodgson Barnett’s novel.”
“Dude, no,” Brendon protests, passes the joint, “too much drama. I’d go with a Victorian romance novel or something.”
“I’m not an expert but Victorian and romance novel altogether and each one alone pretty much guarantee at least some sort of over-the-top drama.”
“Eh, whatever. Happily ever after and in a fancy house, who cares about the rest of this shit?”
“I thought you did, Little Princess,” Spencer says after a moment of holding the smoke in his lungs.
“Shut up. Don’t ruin my innocent dreams.”
Before Spencer has the time to come up with another literature-related remark, Brendon gets distracted by something in front of him. Spencer watches him as he uncurls from his armchair and goes to inspect the wall near the door. There’s a shelf covering this one, too, one that starts on the floor level and reaches high up to the ceiling. It’s packed with books in leather covers with what looks like actual golden etches.
“Hey, check this out,” Brendon says and when Spencer approaches him, holds out a book he’s been stroking with gentle fingers. “Feel it.”
Spencer takes the book reluctantly because yeah, fixating over thing while stoned is nothing out of ordinary but stroking a book? It’s a whole new level. He changes his mind when his fingers touch the cover, though. It’s amazingly soft and smooth, the etches delicate grooves under his fingertips. “Hey, wow.”
“It’s probably worth more than your week paycheck,” Brendon says, picking out another book at random. Spencer hums in response; it probably is.
“Do you think it’s real parchment?” Brendon says, flipping through the yellowed pages of another volume.
“How the fuck would I know?”
“I thought you knew stuff, Spencer James.”
“How do you even know my middle name?”
“I have my sources, Watson,” Brendon says, puffing on an imaginary pipe. “Hey, check this out.” He runs his fingers over the pattern etched into the front of the shelves. Spencer puts the book down, reaches out his hand over Brendon’s shoulder, bumping his shoulder in the process. The shelves are pretty awesome, too, and they spend a few minutes perving over them like freaks.
Spencer feels like he's in a room full of jelly. His movements are slowed down to the point when it takes him a lot of time and a lot of effort to just raise his hand. He doesn’t really know what makes him do that but the next thing he touches is Brendon’s neck, just below the hairline. He can feel the tiny shiver that runs through Brendon’s body, wonders if he can make it happen again. He doesn’t look at Brendon's face. He traces his fingers up and down Brendon’s neck, slipping into his hair, then over the hollow of his collarbone, back and forth. Brendon’s skin is warm and smooth and Spencer can’t bring himself to stop.
Brendon sighs quietly and turns over a little, tilts his head. Spencer doesn’t think about what he’s doing, and before he can catch himself he leans in and touches Brendon’s neck with his mouth. Brendon shivers again, then wraps his fingers over Spencer’s hand where it rest just below Brendon’s throat. He doesn’t move it, though, and he doesn’t pull back so Spencer flicks his tongue experimentally against Brendon’s skin. It tastes a little salty, warm. When Spencer kisses him, he lets out a quiet sigh.
It’s pretty chaste at first, just a press of lips against lips, warm and dry but then Brendon opens his mouth, just a little and it’s enough to make Spencer dizzy. He cups his hands just below Brendon’s ears, thumbs stroking the earlobes lightly, and deepens the kiss.
Brendon goes pliant against him at the first touch of tongue, hands sliding low and slipping underneath Spencer’s t-shirt. His palms are hot against Spencer’s skin and Spencer shudders, presses closer before he can think better of it.
Technically, it’s like kissing a girl; the basics are the same. What’s different are the details.The way Brendon doesn’t seem to care if he hurts him, just the same way Spencer doesn’t care when he sinks his teeth into Brendon’s lower lip and pulls until it slips. Or how Brendon’s grip on Spencer’s hips is not gentle at all. The thought of finger-shaped imprints on his skin makes something hot and heavy curl in Spencer’s belly, makes him press him thumbs over Brendon’s cheekbones until he groans and tips his head back. It’s in the way Brendon's dick presses into Spencer’s thigh, which, well, that one's new.
“Hey, hey,” Brendon breathes out, fingers brushing over the front of Spencer’s jeans and Spencer’s head feels fuzzy and warm.
But then Brendon mutters, just as Spencer’s thumb slides down his jaw and presses against his pulse point, “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
Spencer sighs, closes his eyes briefly. “No,” he admits, thumb moving in slow circles over the side of Brendon’s neck. He ducks his head, feeling stupid.
“I’m not stopping you, do you see me stopping you?” Brendon laughs. “I’m just asking.”
His fingers brush against the bare skin of Spencer’s stomach and it’s kind of hard to focus like that. “Yeah, well,” Spencer makes a move as if to pull back; maybe, he’s not sure himself. Brendon stops him mid-move, fingers tugging at the waistband of Spencer's jeans, and doesn't let go. Spencer stays. When he mumbles, “I’ve never been with a dude,” it’s into the threadbare fabric stretched over Brendon’s shoulder.
“I kinda can tell,” Brendon says; Spencer feels it where he’s pressed against him.
“Why, do I act like a virgin or something?” he huffs and earns another laugh.
"I just know, trust me."
"You're being kind of creepy now, just so you know."
"Sorry," Brendon says but it's not apologetic at all. "Is this awkward for you?"
"A little."
"Maybe we should get back." And Spencer wants to protest; he says, "Yeah, probably."
"Okay," Brendon's hands disappear from Spencer's waist, but instead of letting go completely, he cups the side of Spencer's face and kisses him on the mouth. "I'll see you around."
"I'm gonna need a minute."
Brendon's laugh gets cut by the door closing behind him.
And that's the moment where Spencer's supposed to have a 'I Kissed A Dude' freakout moment. Mostly, he's just horny. Maybe it's because he's too drunk and too stoned to care.
Jess doesn’t protest when he plasters himself against her back. She’s talking to a girl that seems vaguely familiar but just smiles knowingly and slides her hand up his thigh to where he’s hard against her. “You want to go home?”
“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs into her ear and only feels a little bit guilty at the few images of Brendon, Brendon’s eyes and Brendon’s mouth and Brendon’s skin that are on the back of his eyelids when he fucks her back in her room at the dorms.
Freak out comes in the morning. Spencer wakes up with his nose pressed into Jess' hair and a wave of memories from the last night comes rushing into his mind. He might flail a little or make some noises because Jess wakes up, too. He says, "Sorry, sorry," kisses her good morning and goodbye in one go and flees.
When he gets back home, he goes on a cleaning spree. It's a long established tradition in the Smith family - cleaning whenever something's bothering you. Spencer’s hungover and the smell of cleaning products makes him a little sick in his stomach, but he ignores it resolutely and goes on. He tries to blank his own mind out but it's not really working. He kissed a guy. He kissed Brendon.
He’s scrubbing the sink – Ryan owes him, he so owes him – when there’s a knock at the door. Spencer goes to answer. He opens the door with his elbows because there’s cleansing gel on his hands, then pushes it ajar with his foot.
“Um, hi,” Brendon says, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Come on in.” Spencer says and he's surprised at how calm he sounds. His heart rate is somewhere around 160 when he goes back to the bathroom, Brendon on his heels.
“Is it Christmas yet?” Brendon says, sitting carefully on the edge of the bathtub. He looks around, settles a little more comfortably.
Spencer grabs the sponge and attacks the sink again. “I think half of the apartment would declare itself an independent nation by Christmas.”
“You need to drop Jon a line on the subject,” Brendon says, then falls silent. For a while the only sound is the screech, screech of the sponge over the porcelain before Brendon speaks up again. “I hope you didn't get in trouble because of last night,” he says.
Spencer drops the sponge in the sink, leans on it with both hands. “Everything's fine,” he says after a while even though he thinks it's not, then, I'm the one that should be doing the apologizing. Because the truth is, he was the one who initiated the whole thing, and Brendon just went along with it.
“It’s not a big deal, right?” he asks instead, feeling like a complete jerk about it.
“No, it isn't,” Brendon agrees, almost too easily. Spencer thinks he’d kind of like Brendon to argue, to say it is, and immediately feels stupid for it. He scrapes what looks like toothpaste off the edge of the sink with his nail, not looking at Brendon.
“Okay, I better get going,” Brendon stands up, brushes his jeans off absentmindedly and Spencer is almost offended, the tub is fucking squeaky clean.
“Tell Jon I want my country CDs back,” he says, pushes out a smile which becomes a bit more real when Brendon groans, “Oh God, please take them already. I’m going fucking nuts.”
He’s kind of screwed, Spencer realizes when hears Ryan chatting with Brendon for a minute and then the door closing. It’s not exactly an epiphany.
Cassie’s not about to rip his head off when they meet two days later and Spencer figures Brendon had kept his mouth shut about what happened between them. He’s not sure if what he feels is relief or something else completely.
*
Spencer continues to freak out for a full week without letting anyone on what's going on in his head. Then, on Saturday, Cassie calls him and tells him to, quote-unquote show his precious ass at the pizza place near the bus station. Brendon's there, too. He smiles when he spots Spencer in the doorway, waves him over. His eyes are warm and smiling and Spencer thinks, fuck this shit. He figures they're going to be okay.
*
But then Brendon has to go and ruin it all.
"So," he says a week later when they're both at the pool, resting after swimming (Spencer counted) twenty seven laps, "I changed my mind."
"About what?" Spencer asks. He grips the edge of the pool more comfortably, watches his legs floating in the water. Brendon's sitting on the tiles a few inches to his right, water reaching his knees.
"About being sorry about what happened at that party."
He's being a little vague but Spencer knows what he's talking about. He waits for Brendon to continue.
"If you wanted to experiment a little," Brendon says, voice careful, "I'd be up for it."
And that's. Well, fuck. Spencer lets his legs sink into the water, turns around to look at Brendon. It's all slow motion, water heavy against him.
"Brendon." It's probably the strangest offer he's been made - well, maybe not in his life, but. In a while.
It kind of freaks him out how much he wants to take it.
"Yeah?" Brendon asks, finally looking at him. Spencer doesn't answer. He studies Brendon for a while, and finally Brendon gets tired of it and gets up.
"Hey," Spencer grabs his ankle before he can even think about it. The grip is slippery and the only thing Spencer can do is to pull Brendon forward. It's not what he's planned for but it doesn't exactly come as a surprise when Brendon falls into the pool like a bag of rocks, water splashing everywhere.
He emerges seconds later, spluttering, wiping the water off his face. "That," he says, pointing a finger at Spencer, "was a very asshole way of saying yes."
Spencer can help the grin that creeps onto his face. "Sorry about that."
Nothing much happens for a while, though. Music Department hosts a Christmas concert and Brendon spends an awful lot of time at rehearsals. When he doesn't, he studies for the International Law exam, sending Spencer texts full of cursewords and random quotes of things like the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties. Spencer does some studying himself but he's not very serious about it. He doesn't go to see the concert because no one will cover for him. He tries bribing a few people but they claim to have Very Important Things to do right this fucking evening and Spencer is stuck behind the counter.
Brendon drops by later, though, and makes it up to him with an extensive make-out session against the door to Spencer's apartment. It's kind of weird at first; being sober and all, Spencer is aware of everything he does and his body feels clumsy and out of place. And also acutely aware of the fact that he's kissing a guy. When he stops thinking about it and just concentrates on how it feels, it's okay. Brendon doesn't push it, his hands remain gently settled on Spencer hips, thumbs occasionally stroking the sliver of skin under his t-shirt. Spencer kind of maybe wants to take it a little bit further but he doesn't dare. All of a sudden, he's feeling kind of shy. He ends up jerking off when Brendon goes home and by the skin of his teeth avoids Ryan walking in on him.
Spencer goes home for Christmas, and so does Brendon. He keeps texting Spencer randomly, and a few of the messages are at least a little bit equivocal. Spencer reads one of them at the dinner table when the phones buzzes in his pocket. He bursts out laughing and immediately feels guilty about it, about Brendon, about his own thoughts when his mom gives him a reprimanding look. She knows nothing about his sex life - or he sure hopes so - but it still makes him blush a little.
part 2
the sun smells too loud
(Brendon/Spencer, nc-17, 19,000 words)
College AU. Spencer catches up with his bi-curiousness, Cassie and Brendon are BFFs since kindergarten, Ryan makes people watch French movies and Jon smokes up during work hours.
Many, many thanks to
wordsalone for looking this over, to disarm_d for helping me decide what I wanted to do with this story, and to provetheworst for supplying me with blowjob music. ♥Mini soundtrack can be found here. Just a couple of songs featured in the story.
Spencer meets Cassie at a party. It wouldn’t make a good ‘how I met your mother’ story because, well. She calls him on a drinking game and when Spencer asks her out he’s literally under the table. She’s two seconds from joining him there but it’s mostly because she is laughing hard at him and his slurred speech.
They go out once but that's it. There's even this attempt at sex but it ends with a black eye on Spencer's part and they're both too busy laughing their asses off to take it any further.
It doesn’t stop Spencer from demanding a rematch every once in a while. It doesn’t stop him from losing every single time, either.
“She’s just too hardcore for me,” Spencer complains, head propped on his arms, watching Ryan move around the kitchen, “Hey, more.”
“And you say that based solely on the fact that she kicks your ass every time you try to keep pace with her while drinking?” Ryan asks, sliding some more scrambled eggs off the pan he’s holding, “And since when I’m your maid, Smith?”
“Since forever, Ross, I own your ass. And yes, that’s what I base it on.”
“Well. You’re probably right.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m perfectly capable of holding my liquor under any other circumstances.”
“If you want someone who you can out-drink, you can always try dating Ryan,” Keltie suggest from the other side of the table.
Spencer and Ryan both make a face and Ryan points the spatula at her, “Eat your breakfast.”
“I’m just saying,” she holds her hands up.
“Remind me why do I deal with you both?”
“Because Spencer owns your ass and I give awesome head?”
“Too much information,” Spencer protests and covers his ears.
“Like you didn’t know already,” Ryan snorts.
“I wouldn’t if you bothered to close the fucking door sometimes. Hey, why do I put up with you?”
Spencer meets Brendon through Cassie. He's an International Relations major with a minor in Music which is maybe kind of an odd combination but hey, Spencer's seen weirder things. Like, say, any given vest Ryan insisted on wearing last year. Spencer is really glad Ryan's over that, it's easier to show in public with him now.
Brendon, on the other hand, wears pants that are probably tight enough to cut off blood circulation and ridiculous sneakers that make Spencer's head spin a little. He bonds with Ryan over The Beatles and after a week they plan on starting a cover band together. It never happens, which Spencer is extremely grateful for. He can only stand so much of Ryan being artistic on a daily basis. Let alone the fact Ryan hasn't played guitar since high school and stopped singing after his voice broke in 9th grade.
It’s Thursday afternoon and Spencer’s supposed to meet with Cassie to go grab something to eat. Except it’s been twenty minutes and she’s still nowhere to be seen, which doesn't happen often. She doesn't operate on the plus-thirty system most of Spencer's friends do.
Spencer considers calling her but then thinks her classes must have gotten delayed or something. He’s sitting in a comfy booth in a nice diner, he might as well just wait. Practice his zen or whatever. He orders a kebab sandwich because he hasn’t had the time to eat a proper meal since the bowl of cereal in the morning and improving his zen definitely doesn’t require being hungry. And if it does, Spencer doesn’t care. He wants a kebab sandwich.
He’s just biting into it when Brendon shows up in the door, looking around. Spencer waves at him with one greasy hand.
“What’s up with your cell?” Brendon asks as he slides into the booth, kicking his bag under the table.
“Why?” Spencer frowns.
“Cassie’s been trying to call you.”
Spencer wipes his fingers in a tissue and fishes the cell out of the pocket of his jeans. “Shit. The battery died.”
“That’s what she thought. She sent me to tell you she’ll be late. Impromptu comfort drinking session with a friend of hers.”
“Is she even going to make it?” Spencer asks, dubiously.
“She said she’ll try. I can keep you company for a while if you want, I’m on the campus anyway.”
“Yeah, sure. You hungry?”
They spend almost an hour there, stuffing themselves with junk food and talking before Cassie calls Brendon’s cell asking if Spencer’s with him.
“Cass,” Brendon says, passing the phone to Spencer.
“Say ‘incomprehensible’,” Spencer demands in lieu of hello.
“Fuck you, I’m not even going to try,” Cassie laughs, “I won’t make it today, I’m sorry.”
“I kinda figured.”
“Are you mad?”
“No. Brendon was just telling me about the hygienic procedures in Baroque, so.”
“Getting rid of the louses from the wigs with the little hammers? Oh God, that was so gross.”
“Yeah, it was.” Spencer makes a face at Brendon across the table. Brendon laughs and shrugs in a ‘you asked’ manner.
“Hey, listen. I need to get going. Lucy’s about to puke in a pot plant, I think. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay, sure. See you!”
“She used to beat kids in the sandbox when she was a kid,” Brendon says when Spencer hands him the phone back.
“Why am I not surprised?” Spencer laughs, sliding lower in his seat and reaching for his soda. “How long have you guys known each other?”
“I was one of those kids she used to beat the crap out of in the sandbox.” Brendon laughs. “We used to live next to each other for years, went to the same high school and shit. Then she came up here for college and I half-accidentally followed.”
“Half-accidentally?”
“Yeah. I kinda, uh, flipped a coin?”
“You’re both ridiculous.”
“It’s osmosis, there’s nothing I can do.” Brendon grins and stretches. “I gotta go. I’m teaching piano to a couple kids from the local high school. I’m supposed to meet them in half an hour.”
Spencer holds up his hand when Brendon walks past. Brendon smiles and waves back. Spencer watches until he disappears around the corner. He’s full and sleepy and it takes him another couple of minutes to get up and go home.
By the end of the semester Spencer starts spending a lot of time in the library, for two reasons. One of them is that Ryan and Keltie apparently have too much free time on their hands, which they chose to spend on having loud sex. Second, if a little less important, Spencer’s finals are going to be real bitch and he figures there's nothing wrong with doing studying ahead of time instead of leaving it for the week before the exam.
The novelty of being a diligent student wears off soon and Spencer starts looking for another past-time. This is where Brendon comes in handy.
Turns out Brendon made friends with the janitor back during his second semester and now he’s a proud owner of a spare set of keys to the campus pool. Spencer finds out about it by accident, running into Brendon on his way back from the library one day. He probably doesn’t look too well-rested and relaxed because Brendon just grabs him by the sleeve and takes Spencer with him.
“Sorry about that,” Brendon giggles, throwing Spencer a pair of bright pink shorts once they’re inside, “I didn’t buy them myself, I swear.”
They spend nearly two hours at the pool, swimming the length back and forth slowly. It’s pretty dark inside, just the lights in the locker room are on. “I like it better this way,” Brendon had said and Spencer didn’t feel the need to argue. He kind of likes it better like that, too.
The water is warm and smooth over his skin when he dives down and swims underwater. He keeps his eyes open even though the chlorine is going to make them sting like a bitch and he can't see much anyway.
When he emerges, spluttering a little and brushing the water of his face, Brendon's just passing by. There's something mesmerizing about the steady rhythm of his movements, the way his arms raise and dive back into the water as he does the crawl stroke. One, two, three, a gulp of air, one, two, three. Spencer watches him until he ducks under the water, turns a somersault and pushes off the edge of the pool with his feet. Brendon's completely focused, Spencer doesn't even think he's aware of his presence at the very moment. It's kind of sexy. Which, what?
Spencer shakes his head and dives back underwater.
“You’re welcome to join me whenever you want,” Brendon tells him later, when Spencer steps out from under the blow-dryer.
“I might take you up on that,” Spencer rakes his hand through his hair, making sure he got it all. It’s been relatively cool lately and catching a cold now would be stupid.
“Feel free to. I’m here few times a week so just let me know if you feel like swimming.”
“Will do. Thanks.” Spencer grins at him and grabs his hoodie from the bench, pulls it on. It’s almost summer already, what the fuck. He really shouldn’t have moved out of the desert.
Brendon lets them out and they head into opposite directions. When Spencer gets back, Ryan and Keltie are not home, for a change. Spencer considers barricading himself in the living room and jerking off, just because he can. He ends up trying to study and falls asleep three pages in.
There’s something about Brendon that makes Spencer a little uneasy around him on occasions. He chalks it up to his imagination for the most part, like the the way Brendon moves sometimes, slow and lazy and stupidly sexy, like he knows Spencer is watching him and cranks it up a little for his benefit. Or the way he would glance up from a piece of paper covered in messy notes that look like little, crazy ants with a corner of his mouth shifting upwards just a fraction. It’s about those goddamn come-fuck-me eyes that he gets when he’s sleepy or tired or a little drunk. Brendon is a little flirty with almost everyone, from Ryan to the lady at the campus cafeteria, so it probably doesn’t mean much when he does that with Spencer.
But then, Spencer sees Brendon kiss a guy, and it kind of fucks with his head a little. And not for the reason he would think it would.
The finals fly by and before Spencer can blink, it’s summer break. There’s a party at one of the dorms to celebrate and there are three drunk people lying on the front lawn by the time they get there. It's only half past eight.
Spencer is planning on joining them soon. No more Econometrics ever again, this calls for a toast, or two. Or twenty.
The party is wild but it also winds down pretty quickly. There are not many people left at three in the morning when Spencer ditches two girls from his Macro class and a guy from the Management class. The dorm is one of those that were turned into a dorm from a regular – however big - house. It has no more that fifteen rooms and there’s a honest to god patio at the back. It’s maybe half a story above the ground level and there’s something that used to be a garden once, surrounding it.
Spencer slides the glass door behind himself and slinks down onto the terracotta floor, nursing his beer. He takes a sip from time to time, just enjoying the warm, balsamic air and the relative lack of noise. He’s mostly sober now but still in that phase where he would kill himself laughing if someone pushed the right button.
And that’s when he sees them.
Spencer isn’t entirely sober, admittedly, but not enough so to mistake what he sees for something else. The lights coming from the house are enough to recognize a person, too. It’s Brendon, held against the side of the building by a guy Spencer doesn’t know. He’s tall, taller than Brendon – which isn’t much of an accomplishment, really, but that’s beside the point – and has one hand in Brendon’s hair, the other under his t-shirt.
What Spencer feels is not a shock. There's a whole bunch of different emotions cursing through his body and okay, surprise is there, too, but what makes Spencer think he might have a little problem is the fact that he can't tear his goddamn eyes off them.
He tightens his grip on the neck of the bottle when Brendon laughs breathlessly and says something Spencer can’t quite catch. It's a mystery how they don't see him. It's not like he's going to stand up and say hi, though.
“Wanna get out of here?” the other dude asks and Spencer can hear it perfectly clear this time.
"Yeah."
They make their way through the garden – it’s mostly just knee-high grass now – and Spencer hunches in on himself, trying to become invisible. It’d be fucking awkward if they caught him now.
Luckily, they have better things to do than looking around for possible voyeurs and Spencer’s dignity remains intact. Well, mostly, at least. He finishes his beer, now merely lukewarm, in one go and goes back inside to find another one. He feels definitely too sober to be having thoughts like this, flashing in vivid snapshots through his mind.
Finally, after chewing on this back and forth for a while, he decides to ask Cassie. It’s not all that important; Spencer just can’t get it out of his system. Which, for one thing, is downright weird. It’s not like he hasn’t been friends with Ryan Ross for the better part of his life. And Ryan, for all that he’s annoyingly heterosexual now, hasn’t always been the poster guy for heteronormativity. There was this guy, Pete-something, back when he was a sophomore that Spencer is pretty sure didn’t stay the night just to discuss e.e cummings. Although he could be wrong, you never know with Ryan. The point is, male on male action never made Spencer interested, never had him thinking about it. It's kind of awkward.
Finally, he reaches the point where he asks, “Brendon’s gay?” over a pizza he and Cassie are sharing, trying to make it as casual as possible. Spencer figures he doesn’t look overly intent with garlic sauce smeared all over his chin, so.
“He swings both ways. A bit more towards boys, though, I think. Why?”
“Nothing. I just saw him kissing this dude the other day and I was wondering.”
“That gonna be a problem?”
“Have you met Ryan?” Cassie may not know about Ryan’s bi-curious adventures of his youth but his clothing choices are enough to set a suitable impression if anything else fails, Spencer guesses.
“Yeah, okay. Point.” She laughs and tries to stuff half of the slice in her mouth. “Ha, beat that!”
“Oh, God. Are we five again?”
“Yes?”
“Fine.” Spencer rolls his eyes and puts the entire slice in his mouth with little to no effort at all. Cassie looks pretty broken.
Spencer gets a job at Starbucks for the summer. It’s three blocks from his apartment and gives him something to do while Ryan and Keltie are on their trip across the country. It’s a little too much 'Natural Born Killers' for Spencer’s liking and he’d be waiting to hear about them in the news were it not for the fact that Ryan is a fucking dandelion pussy. About Keltie, Spencer’s not so sure.
He’s still enjoying the lack of love birds in his life at the moment but it gets lonely after a while, being all by himself. It’s Brendon who says they’re looking for people at Starbucks, which he knows because Jon’s been pulling double shifts at least twice a week and complaining about it a lot. Jon, as in Jon Walker, the guy that to Spencer’s knowledge, is friends basically with everyone. And, apparently, also Brendon’s roommate.
Jon is a nice guy to work with. He’s very chill and smiles a lot so even if there’s a giant line at the counter people just can’t get mad at him. It’s some sort of a gift Spencer wishes he had, especially during the first week when he gets yelled at by an old lady for taking his time with her order that consists of, like, five billion things. He’s short of unleashing his inner bitch at her but Jon steps in right in time and helps Spencer avoid a possible lawsuit or a beat-down from her grandsons.
Jon’s gift, Spencer finds out during his third week at Starbucks, is mostly the effect of smoking pot during his working hours.
“Come on,” Jon gestures Spencer outside when they both have their break. There’s an old palette just behind the door and they both sit on it. It’s more of a crouch than an actual sitting position but after being up for five hours Spencer is not going to complain. He’s also not to going to say no when Jon lights up what certainly isn’t a cigarette and passes it over to him.
“Don’t worry about getting fired. It’s from Joe’s stash,” Jon grins and watches Spencer take a hit.
“Seriously?” Joe is their shift manager. Spencer's always liked him.
“Yep. He’s got the best shit.”
And yeah, he does. By the time their break is over, Spencer feels all fuzzy and a bit giggly.
“I hope we don’t have cops as customers,” he says, “or, like, an overprotective parent who learned how to recognize drug usage at a PTA meeting.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll disarm them with my pot charm,” Jon offers, heading back inside, “and if worse comes to worst, we can always call Brendon in. He’d pacify anyone.”
Spencer sure hopes so. He doesn’t want to go to jail. Ryan’s favorite band told him what they do to guys like them in prison when he was seventeen.
The Brendon in question shows up at Starbucks at five pm. It’s mostly a dead hour and they’re all bored but have to behave because of the few people that are still inside.
Jon leans over the counter to tug at Brendon’s hair while he’s contemplating today’s specials, “I’m hungry, Brendon, did you bring me food?”
“You have plenty of food here, Jon.”
“I want a burger, Brendon. A greasy burger with a ton of meat and three kinds of cheese and lots and lots of ketchup.”
Brendon pats him on the head and turns to Spencer, asking, “Give me a caramel macchiato?”
“Sure.” Spencer busies himself with preparing the coffee, listening to Jon and Brendon argue about whose turn it is to buy groceries. They don’t reach any kind of conclusion as far as Spencer can tell but they move on to the last episode of The O.C., which takes them half an hour to discuss. Spencer wishes Ryan was here to mock them both to death.
There's a girl that comes to Starbucks on every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday at four pm. She wears a scarf even though it's the middle of the summer and spends hours hunched over a thick notebook with a purpler cover. Spencer kind of misses Ryan, so it's probably why he asks her out on the second week.
Her name is Jess and she's this side of a little too engaged in the political situation in the Balkans but she also likes sex an lot so Spencer's willing to turn a blind eye to that. They're not really dating; he's basically just her rebound fuck. He doesn't mind at all. They have a great time.
Cassie comes back from visiting her parents two weeks before the holidays are over. There’s an impromptu party to celebrate that they take into the city, taking the El and being loud and obnoxious on the way, making other passengers glare at them. They go bowling; Cassie, Jess and Keltie team up against Spencer, Jon, Brendon and Ryan and win with a minimum effort. They end up being their slaves for the rest of the night, buying them ridiculous pink drinks and carrying them around as they please. It’s pretty awesome. Until Jon and Keltie end up in fountain, that is. Then, Spencer is too busy laughing his ass off to notice when Brendon sneaks up to him and the next thing he knows, he’s in the fountain himself.
He ends up with a cold, which is fucking ridiculous given that, technically, it's still summer. He makes Brendon buy him chicken soup at the Chinese restaurant nearby and Jon gives him two baggies of weed as a get-better gift. Things are pretty okay altogether.
Spencer keeps his job at Starbucks when the classes begin. It’s only for a couple hours now, though, and mostly in the afternoons. The first two months of school are pretty much uneventful so it's not much of a problem. Spencer steers clear of the parties, too, under the pretense of being a working man. He doesn't last long, though, and breaks when Jean Adams throws a party at her house. It’s more of a villa, actually, and it takes Spencer a few tries to navigate his way to the goddamn bathroom.
Some of Jess' Balkan-crazy friends are here so Spencer doesn’t feel too guilty for ditching her when Brendon catches him by the wrists and pulls him into an empty room. The joint Brendon produces from the pocket of his jeans is pretty much intact, which doesn’t make any sense given how tight the pants are.
Spencer’s already pretty drunk when he declares it an anti-physics joint and by the way Brendon giggles at that he figures Brendon’s isn’t too sober himself either.
The room that Brendon chose for a smoke-up den turns out to be some sort of a library. There are dark brown shelves running along every inch of the walls and a desk the size of Spencer’s bed. There are also two giant, leather armchairs they sink into, passing the joint back and forth. The only light in the room is the moonlight seeping in through the open curtains and Spencer watches as the smoke curls into the air, highlighted by a patch of bluish light here and there.
“I kind of want to marry Jean now,” Brendon says contemplatively, turning the spliff between his fingers, looking around the room.
“It’d be like a Frances Hodgson Barnett’s novel.”
“Dude, no,” Brendon protests, passes the joint, “too much drama. I’d go with a Victorian romance novel or something.”
“I’m not an expert but Victorian and romance novel altogether and each one alone pretty much guarantee at least some sort of over-the-top drama.”
“Eh, whatever. Happily ever after and in a fancy house, who cares about the rest of this shit?”
“I thought you did, Little Princess,” Spencer says after a moment of holding the smoke in his lungs.
“Shut up. Don’t ruin my innocent dreams.”
Before Spencer has the time to come up with another literature-related remark, Brendon gets distracted by something in front of him. Spencer watches him as he uncurls from his armchair and goes to inspect the wall near the door. There’s a shelf covering this one, too, one that starts on the floor level and reaches high up to the ceiling. It’s packed with books in leather covers with what looks like actual golden etches.
“Hey, check this out,” Brendon says and when Spencer approaches him, holds out a book he’s been stroking with gentle fingers. “Feel it.”
Spencer takes the book reluctantly because yeah, fixating over thing while stoned is nothing out of ordinary but stroking a book? It’s a whole new level. He changes his mind when his fingers touch the cover, though. It’s amazingly soft and smooth, the etches delicate grooves under his fingertips. “Hey, wow.”
“It’s probably worth more than your week paycheck,” Brendon says, picking out another book at random. Spencer hums in response; it probably is.
“Do you think it’s real parchment?” Brendon says, flipping through the yellowed pages of another volume.
“How the fuck would I know?”
“I thought you knew stuff, Spencer James.”
“How do you even know my middle name?”
“I have my sources, Watson,” Brendon says, puffing on an imaginary pipe. “Hey, check this out.” He runs his fingers over the pattern etched into the front of the shelves. Spencer puts the book down, reaches out his hand over Brendon’s shoulder, bumping his shoulder in the process. The shelves are pretty awesome, too, and they spend a few minutes perving over them like freaks.
Spencer feels like he's in a room full of jelly. His movements are slowed down to the point when it takes him a lot of time and a lot of effort to just raise his hand. He doesn’t really know what makes him do that but the next thing he touches is Brendon’s neck, just below the hairline. He can feel the tiny shiver that runs through Brendon’s body, wonders if he can make it happen again. He doesn’t look at Brendon's face. He traces his fingers up and down Brendon’s neck, slipping into his hair, then over the hollow of his collarbone, back and forth. Brendon’s skin is warm and smooth and Spencer can’t bring himself to stop.
Brendon sighs quietly and turns over a little, tilts his head. Spencer doesn’t think about what he’s doing, and before he can catch himself he leans in and touches Brendon’s neck with his mouth. Brendon shivers again, then wraps his fingers over Spencer’s hand where it rest just below Brendon’s throat. He doesn’t move it, though, and he doesn’t pull back so Spencer flicks his tongue experimentally against Brendon’s skin. It tastes a little salty, warm. When Spencer kisses him, he lets out a quiet sigh.
It’s pretty chaste at first, just a press of lips against lips, warm and dry but then Brendon opens his mouth, just a little and it’s enough to make Spencer dizzy. He cups his hands just below Brendon’s ears, thumbs stroking the earlobes lightly, and deepens the kiss.
Brendon goes pliant against him at the first touch of tongue, hands sliding low and slipping underneath Spencer’s t-shirt. His palms are hot against Spencer’s skin and Spencer shudders, presses closer before he can think better of it.
Technically, it’s like kissing a girl; the basics are the same. What’s different are the details.The way Brendon doesn’t seem to care if he hurts him, just the same way Spencer doesn’t care when he sinks his teeth into Brendon’s lower lip and pulls until it slips. Or how Brendon’s grip on Spencer’s hips is not gentle at all. The thought of finger-shaped imprints on his skin makes something hot and heavy curl in Spencer’s belly, makes him press him thumbs over Brendon’s cheekbones until he groans and tips his head back. It’s in the way Brendon's dick presses into Spencer’s thigh, which, well, that one's new.
“Hey, hey,” Brendon breathes out, fingers brushing over the front of Spencer’s jeans and Spencer’s head feels fuzzy and warm.
But then Brendon mutters, just as Spencer’s thumb slides down his jaw and presses against his pulse point, “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
Spencer sighs, closes his eyes briefly. “No,” he admits, thumb moving in slow circles over the side of Brendon’s neck. He ducks his head, feeling stupid.
“I’m not stopping you, do you see me stopping you?” Brendon laughs. “I’m just asking.”
His fingers brush against the bare skin of Spencer’s stomach and it’s kind of hard to focus like that. “Yeah, well,” Spencer makes a move as if to pull back; maybe, he’s not sure himself. Brendon stops him mid-move, fingers tugging at the waistband of Spencer's jeans, and doesn't let go. Spencer stays. When he mumbles, “I’ve never been with a dude,” it’s into the threadbare fabric stretched over Brendon’s shoulder.
“I kinda can tell,” Brendon says; Spencer feels it where he’s pressed against him.
“Why, do I act like a virgin or something?” he huffs and earns another laugh.
"I just know, trust me."
"You're being kind of creepy now, just so you know."
"Sorry," Brendon says but it's not apologetic at all. "Is this awkward for you?"
"A little."
"Maybe we should get back." And Spencer wants to protest; he says, "Yeah, probably."
"Okay," Brendon's hands disappear from Spencer's waist, but instead of letting go completely, he cups the side of Spencer's face and kisses him on the mouth. "I'll see you around."
"I'm gonna need a minute."
Brendon's laugh gets cut by the door closing behind him.
And that's the moment where Spencer's supposed to have a 'I Kissed A Dude' freakout moment. Mostly, he's just horny. Maybe it's because he's too drunk and too stoned to care.
Jess doesn’t protest when he plasters himself against her back. She’s talking to a girl that seems vaguely familiar but just smiles knowingly and slides her hand up his thigh to where he’s hard against her. “You want to go home?”
“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs into her ear and only feels a little bit guilty at the few images of Brendon, Brendon’s eyes and Brendon’s mouth and Brendon’s skin that are on the back of his eyelids when he fucks her back in her room at the dorms.
Freak out comes in the morning. Spencer wakes up with his nose pressed into Jess' hair and a wave of memories from the last night comes rushing into his mind. He might flail a little or make some noises because Jess wakes up, too. He says, "Sorry, sorry," kisses her good morning and goodbye in one go and flees.
When he gets back home, he goes on a cleaning spree. It's a long established tradition in the Smith family - cleaning whenever something's bothering you. Spencer’s hungover and the smell of cleaning products makes him a little sick in his stomach, but he ignores it resolutely and goes on. He tries to blank his own mind out but it's not really working. He kissed a guy. He kissed Brendon.
He’s scrubbing the sink – Ryan owes him, he so owes him – when there’s a knock at the door. Spencer goes to answer. He opens the door with his elbows because there’s cleansing gel on his hands, then pushes it ajar with his foot.
“Um, hi,” Brendon says, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Come on in.” Spencer says and he's surprised at how calm he sounds. His heart rate is somewhere around 160 when he goes back to the bathroom, Brendon on his heels.
“Is it Christmas yet?” Brendon says, sitting carefully on the edge of the bathtub. He looks around, settles a little more comfortably.
Spencer grabs the sponge and attacks the sink again. “I think half of the apartment would declare itself an independent nation by Christmas.”
“You need to drop Jon a line on the subject,” Brendon says, then falls silent. For a while the only sound is the screech, screech of the sponge over the porcelain before Brendon speaks up again. “I hope you didn't get in trouble because of last night,” he says.
Spencer drops the sponge in the sink, leans on it with both hands. “Everything's fine,” he says after a while even though he thinks it's not, then, I'm the one that should be doing the apologizing. Because the truth is, he was the one who initiated the whole thing, and Brendon just went along with it.
“It’s not a big deal, right?” he asks instead, feeling like a complete jerk about it.
“No, it isn't,” Brendon agrees, almost too easily. Spencer thinks he’d kind of like Brendon to argue, to say it is, and immediately feels stupid for it. He scrapes what looks like toothpaste off the edge of the sink with his nail, not looking at Brendon.
“Okay, I better get going,” Brendon stands up, brushes his jeans off absentmindedly and Spencer is almost offended, the tub is fucking squeaky clean.
“Tell Jon I want my country CDs back,” he says, pushes out a smile which becomes a bit more real when Brendon groans, “Oh God, please take them already. I’m going fucking nuts.”
He’s kind of screwed, Spencer realizes when hears Ryan chatting with Brendon for a minute and then the door closing. It’s not exactly an epiphany.
Cassie’s not about to rip his head off when they meet two days later and Spencer figures Brendon had kept his mouth shut about what happened between them. He’s not sure if what he feels is relief or something else completely.
Spencer continues to freak out for a full week without letting anyone on what's going on in his head. Then, on Saturday, Cassie calls him and tells him to, quote-unquote show his precious ass at the pizza place near the bus station. Brendon's there, too. He smiles when he spots Spencer in the doorway, waves him over. His eyes are warm and smiling and Spencer thinks, fuck this shit. He figures they're going to be okay.
But then Brendon has to go and ruin it all.
"So," he says a week later when they're both at the pool, resting after swimming (Spencer counted) twenty seven laps, "I changed my mind."
"About what?" Spencer asks. He grips the edge of the pool more comfortably, watches his legs floating in the water. Brendon's sitting on the tiles a few inches to his right, water reaching his knees.
"About being sorry about what happened at that party."
He's being a little vague but Spencer knows what he's talking about. He waits for Brendon to continue.
"If you wanted to experiment a little," Brendon says, voice careful, "I'd be up for it."
And that's. Well, fuck. Spencer lets his legs sink into the water, turns around to look at Brendon. It's all slow motion, water heavy against him.
"Brendon." It's probably the strangest offer he's been made - well, maybe not in his life, but. In a while.
It kind of freaks him out how much he wants to take it.
"Yeah?" Brendon asks, finally looking at him. Spencer doesn't answer. He studies Brendon for a while, and finally Brendon gets tired of it and gets up.
"Hey," Spencer grabs his ankle before he can even think about it. The grip is slippery and the only thing Spencer can do is to pull Brendon forward. It's not what he's planned for but it doesn't exactly come as a surprise when Brendon falls into the pool like a bag of rocks, water splashing everywhere.
He emerges seconds later, spluttering, wiping the water off his face. "That," he says, pointing a finger at Spencer, "was a very asshole way of saying yes."
Spencer can help the grin that creeps onto his face. "Sorry about that."
Nothing much happens for a while, though. Music Department hosts a Christmas concert and Brendon spends an awful lot of time at rehearsals. When he doesn't, he studies for the International Law exam, sending Spencer texts full of cursewords and random quotes of things like the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties. Spencer does some studying himself but he's not very serious about it. He doesn't go to see the concert because no one will cover for him. He tries bribing a few people but they claim to have Very Important Things to do right this fucking evening and Spencer is stuck behind the counter.
Brendon drops by later, though, and makes it up to him with an extensive make-out session against the door to Spencer's apartment. It's kind of weird at first; being sober and all, Spencer is aware of everything he does and his body feels clumsy and out of place. And also acutely aware of the fact that he's kissing a guy. When he stops thinking about it and just concentrates on how it feels, it's okay. Brendon doesn't push it, his hands remain gently settled on Spencer hips, thumbs occasionally stroking the sliver of skin under his t-shirt. Spencer kind of maybe wants to take it a little bit further but he doesn't dare. All of a sudden, he's feeling kind of shy. He ends up jerking off when Brendon goes home and by the skin of his teeth avoids Ryan walking in on him.
Spencer goes home for Christmas, and so does Brendon. He keeps texting Spencer randomly, and a few of the messages are at least a little bit equivocal. Spencer reads one of them at the dinner table when the phones buzzes in his pocket. He bursts out laughing and immediately feels guilty about it, about Brendon, about his own thoughts when his mom gives him a reprimanding look. She knows nothing about his sex life - or he sure hopes so - but it still makes him blush a little.
part 2
