sunsetmog_fics (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sunsetmog_fics) wrote2011-12-23 06:11 pm
sunsetmog_fics) wrote2011-12-23 06:11 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: The Holiday [Brendon/Spencer, 2/?]
Title: The Holiday [2/?]
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sunsetmog
Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Pairing: Brendon Urie / Spencer Smith
Rating: PG-13 (this part) NC-17 (overall)
Word count: 1,600 (this part)
Warnings: None.
Notes: Thank you tooctette for the beta. Any remaining errors are my own. For ohohstarryeyed.
Further notes can be found in part one. Also posted here at AO3.
Inspired by The Holiday. Sort of. Um.
Previously: [I].
~*~
"So, don't kill me," Spencer said, as they pulled in behind Anna's car on a tiny, tiny country lane in the pitch fucking black, "but I made a mistake on the booking form and they think this is our honeymoon. That we're on. Together."
Brendon looked at him incredulously. "Say that again," he said, after a moment. The engine powered down slowly, leaving only silence, and the absolute darkness outside.
"Dave and Mary have made a special effort, apparently," Spencer plowed on, trying not to look at the incredulous amazement on Brendon's face. "They've worked really hard. So, I figure, we go in, pretend to be really happy that they've laid on a honeymoon for us, and after they've gone, we go back to not being, you know. On our honeymoon."
"Holy shit," Brendon said, with a snort. "That's amazing. So we're married? Or supposed to be?"
"I guess?" Spencer said, shrugging his shoulders. "If we're on our honeymoon, I mean, it stands to reason, right?"
"This is amazing," Brendon said again. "Wait until we tell Dallon, he'll die. And Pete. He'll be pissed he missed the wedding."
Spencer put his head in his hands. "Sorry," he said, "but this is all your fault. If you hadn't learnt our stupid card details off by heart, we would never have booked this stupid vacation."
"Shut up and enjoy it," Brendon said. "Can't have you being grumpy ruining our honeymoon. What would your mom say?"
"Shut up," Spencer said, and he awkwardly stumbled out of the car and onto the road, stretching to get rid of some of the aches from being cramped in a seat for the best part of a day. "This is the rum's fault. Who let us have rum?"
"We haven't met," Anna said, coming over and taking Brendon by the hand. The only electric light was the light from the open car door, but there was a faint silvery light from the quarter-moon, now that Spencer was getting used to the dark. "Anna Macnamara. And I hear from your lovely young man here that congratulations are in order!"
"Yes, they are," Brendon said, with a wide, shit-eating grin. "My lovely young man is completely right."
Oh god, Spencer thought. Brendon was going to lord this over him forever.
"Now, come on inside, bring your bags, that's right." She waited while Brendon popped the trunk, and then held her arms out. "Now, load me up." She looked in the trunk, and dropped her hands again. "You didn't bring very much."
"Very last minute," Spencer said. "We just threw some stuff in a couple of cases."
"Ah, yes." She nodded. "An elopement. Very romantic. You'll have to tell us all the gory details. We're all wildly excited. We've never had any gay marrieds before. I can call you gay marrieds, right?"
"Um," Spencer said.
"Come along," she said. "Dave and Mary are meeting us inside, they've got everything set up for you."
As they carefully navigated the path up to the front door of a small, grey cottage with a sloping roof, Spencer tugged on Brendon's sleeve with his free hand. "Brendon -"
"Shush," Brendon said, with a wicked grin. He was clearly loving this. "We're the only gay marrieds they've had, Spencer. They need us to give them all the details of our romantic elopement."
"I hate you," Spencer muttered, tripping over something he couldn't even see and feeling the handle of his suitcase wrench free. "I really hate you."
"Not as much as I love you, sweetheart," Brendon said, loud enough for Anna to hear. Anna was already at the front door, shaking hands enthusiastically with a man and woman who looked to be in their fifties, and were welcoming Brendon and Spencer with open arms.
Spencer allowed himself to be hugged by the woman - Mary, he assumed - and to have his hand shaken by Dave.
"I've got a cousin who's gay," Dave was telling them, still pumping Spencer's hand. His accent was lilting, Welsh and strong. "He never got married, though."
"Well, he can't, can he?" Mary put in, tucking her arm through Brendon's. "Civil partnerships, that's what he could get."
"Um," Spencer managed, because he was tired, and his eyes ached, and Dave had one hell of a tight handshake. His cheeks felt red. "It's great to meet you, but we've had a really long day, and we've traveled a long way-"
"Oh, of course," Mary said. "Come on in, come on. We've got it all laid out for you, even put a welcome feast in the fridge. And bacon and eggs for the morning, fresh this morning from Dafydd, down the way." She paused. "Bacon's from the Co-op, but you can't have everything."
Spencer ducked his head to avoid smacking his head on the lintel, and followed Anna and Brendon and Mary and Dave inside. They were in a hallway, small and cramped and with a low ceiling. Stairs went up, and there was a door to the left, one to the right, and one straight ahead.
"That's the way out the back," Dave said, pointing to the door opposite. "Key's on the fob, got a big B on it, it has. That way's the kitchen, and in here -" He pushed open the door to their left. "- in here is the living room."
It was—it was something else. A large Christmas tree mostly obscured the window, but it was dragged down low with all the tinsel and lights and decorations on it. An angel perched a little wonkily on top. Candles were laid out all along the mantel, in between an odd, wooden set of nativity figurines, painted strange colors and kneeling before a crib made out of popsicle sticks. A congratulations banner hung from the wall above the fireplace, where a fire crackled merrily behind an old, cast-iron fire guard. There were garlands across the wall, ribbons around the picture frames, and a welcome basket on the coffee table, and it was old-fashioned and pretty and tiny. With the five of them standing in the room, they were all practically elbow to elbow.
"This is great," Brendon said, because clearly he was doing better than Spencer was. He could remember how to use words, a skill Spencer thought he might have lost hours ago. "It's really great. We really appreciate it." He snuck a glance at Spencer, and winked. "My hubby and I -"
That was it, Spencer was going to kill him.
"- we can't thank you enough for all the trouble you've gone to."
Mary and Dave looked pink-cheeked and appreciative. Spencer was reminded, yet again, that Brendon had a special super-power when it came to winning over people. He would try harder himself, but he was on the brink of falling asleep right where he stood.
"We're really grateful," Spencer told them, eyes fixed on the heart-shaped red blanket draped over the couch. "But -"
"You should show us the kitchen and upstairs," Brendon said. "I know I'm dying to see it, and I'm sure Spencer is too, isn't that right, honeybun?"
Spencer kicked him in the ankle. "I'm sorry," he said firmly, ignoring Brendon's shit-eating grin. "You've all been so kind, but we haven't been to bed in over twenty four hours, and we're flagging."
"Of course," Anna said smoothly. "The keys are here, the welcome pack is there, there are emergency numbers in the back, and the check-out details are all written here on the inside back cover. Feel free to give me a ring or pop in if you need anything; Dave and Mary are just down the lane, and I know they'll want to help."
"We want you two to have the best honeymoon ever," Mary told them, beaming. "Pop down anytime, we'll tell you how to walk down to the beach and we can recommend some good places for you to eat and -"
Spencer smiled weakly. "Thanks," he said, cutting her off.
"We will take you up on that," Brendon said sunnily, and slid his arm around Spencer's waist. "Once Mr. Grumpy-boots has had some sleep."
It was impossible for Spencer to hate him any more than he did right now, and he couldn't even shrug away Brendon's arm until they'd stood at the front door and waved off Anna in her car, and Mary and Dave back down the road.
"So," Brendon said, brightly. "How would you like to spend our first night together as married men, Mr. Urie-Smith?"
"Fuck you," Spencer said, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to bed."
"I'm going to get a drink," Brendon said. "You sure you don't want anything?" Spencer wasn't sure where Brendon had got his second wind from, but he was bright-eyed and laughing, something Spencer couldn't have managed even if someone had paid him.
"I need to sleep," he said, almost too tired to negotiate the stairs. "I'll see you in the morning."
It was only when he got to the top of the stairs and into the bedroom that he realized there was only one bed. He shouldn't have expected any different, bearing in mind the honeymoon misunderstanding, but there was a difference between abstractly realizing that the honeymoon package had been laid out for them, and knowing that there was only one place in the cottage where he and Brendon could sleep. Together.
The room was cold. The bed was piled high with flower print covers, and topped off with a large knitted blanket, and there were heartshaped chocolates and rose petals all over the pillows.
"Fuck it," Spencer said succinctly, and, kicking off his shoes, he stumbled face first into bed, not even bothering to take off his clothes.
[next]
Author:
sunsetmogFandom: Panic! at the Disco
Pairing: Brendon Urie / Spencer Smith
Rating: PG-13 (this part) NC-17 (overall)
Word count: 1,600 (this part)
Warnings: None.
Notes: Thank you to
octette for the beta. Any remaining errors are my own. For ohohstarryeyed.Further notes can be found in part one. Also posted here at AO3.
Inspired by The Holiday. Sort of. Um.
Summary: "So, don't kill me," Spencer said, "but I made a mistake on the booking form and they think this is our honeymoon. That we're on. Together."
Previously: [I].
~*~
"So, don't kill me," Spencer said, as they pulled in behind Anna's car on a tiny, tiny country lane in the pitch fucking black, "but I made a mistake on the booking form and they think this is our honeymoon. That we're on. Together."
Brendon looked at him incredulously. "Say that again," he said, after a moment. The engine powered down slowly, leaving only silence, and the absolute darkness outside.
"Dave and Mary have made a special effort, apparently," Spencer plowed on, trying not to look at the incredulous amazement on Brendon's face. "They've worked really hard. So, I figure, we go in, pretend to be really happy that they've laid on a honeymoon for us, and after they've gone, we go back to not being, you know. On our honeymoon."
"Holy shit," Brendon said, with a snort. "That's amazing. So we're married? Or supposed to be?"
"I guess?" Spencer said, shrugging his shoulders. "If we're on our honeymoon, I mean, it stands to reason, right?"
"This is amazing," Brendon said again. "Wait until we tell Dallon, he'll die. And Pete. He'll be pissed he missed the wedding."
Spencer put his head in his hands. "Sorry," he said, "but this is all your fault. If you hadn't learnt our stupid card details off by heart, we would never have booked this stupid vacation."
"Shut up and enjoy it," Brendon said. "Can't have you being grumpy ruining our honeymoon. What would your mom say?"
"Shut up," Spencer said, and he awkwardly stumbled out of the car and onto the road, stretching to get rid of some of the aches from being cramped in a seat for the best part of a day. "This is the rum's fault. Who let us have rum?"
"We haven't met," Anna said, coming over and taking Brendon by the hand. The only electric light was the light from the open car door, but there was a faint silvery light from the quarter-moon, now that Spencer was getting used to the dark. "Anna Macnamara. And I hear from your lovely young man here that congratulations are in order!"
"Yes, they are," Brendon said, with a wide, shit-eating grin. "My lovely young man is completely right."
Oh god, Spencer thought. Brendon was going to lord this over him forever.
"Now, come on inside, bring your bags, that's right." She waited while Brendon popped the trunk, and then held her arms out. "Now, load me up." She looked in the trunk, and dropped her hands again. "You didn't bring very much."
"Very last minute," Spencer said. "We just threw some stuff in a couple of cases."
"Ah, yes." She nodded. "An elopement. Very romantic. You'll have to tell us all the gory details. We're all wildly excited. We've never had any gay marrieds before. I can call you gay marrieds, right?"
"Um," Spencer said.
"Come along," she said. "Dave and Mary are meeting us inside, they've got everything set up for you."
As they carefully navigated the path up to the front door of a small, grey cottage with a sloping roof, Spencer tugged on Brendon's sleeve with his free hand. "Brendon -"
"Shush," Brendon said, with a wicked grin. He was clearly loving this. "We're the only gay marrieds they've had, Spencer. They need us to give them all the details of our romantic elopement."
"I hate you," Spencer muttered, tripping over something he couldn't even see and feeling the handle of his suitcase wrench free. "I really hate you."
"Not as much as I love you, sweetheart," Brendon said, loud enough for Anna to hear. Anna was already at the front door, shaking hands enthusiastically with a man and woman who looked to be in their fifties, and were welcoming Brendon and Spencer with open arms.
Spencer allowed himself to be hugged by the woman - Mary, he assumed - and to have his hand shaken by Dave.
"I've got a cousin who's gay," Dave was telling them, still pumping Spencer's hand. His accent was lilting, Welsh and strong. "He never got married, though."
"Well, he can't, can he?" Mary put in, tucking her arm through Brendon's. "Civil partnerships, that's what he could get."
"Um," Spencer managed, because he was tired, and his eyes ached, and Dave had one hell of a tight handshake. His cheeks felt red. "It's great to meet you, but we've had a really long day, and we've traveled a long way-"
"Oh, of course," Mary said. "Come on in, come on. We've got it all laid out for you, even put a welcome feast in the fridge. And bacon and eggs for the morning, fresh this morning from Dafydd, down the way." She paused. "Bacon's from the Co-op, but you can't have everything."
Spencer ducked his head to avoid smacking his head on the lintel, and followed Anna and Brendon and Mary and Dave inside. They were in a hallway, small and cramped and with a low ceiling. Stairs went up, and there was a door to the left, one to the right, and one straight ahead.
"That's the way out the back," Dave said, pointing to the door opposite. "Key's on the fob, got a big B on it, it has. That way's the kitchen, and in here -" He pushed open the door to their left. "- in here is the living room."
It was—it was something else. A large Christmas tree mostly obscured the window, but it was dragged down low with all the tinsel and lights and decorations on it. An angel perched a little wonkily on top. Candles were laid out all along the mantel, in between an odd, wooden set of nativity figurines, painted strange colors and kneeling before a crib made out of popsicle sticks. A congratulations banner hung from the wall above the fireplace, where a fire crackled merrily behind an old, cast-iron fire guard. There were garlands across the wall, ribbons around the picture frames, and a welcome basket on the coffee table, and it was old-fashioned and pretty and tiny. With the five of them standing in the room, they were all practically elbow to elbow.
"This is great," Brendon said, because clearly he was doing better than Spencer was. He could remember how to use words, a skill Spencer thought he might have lost hours ago. "It's really great. We really appreciate it." He snuck a glance at Spencer, and winked. "My hubby and I -"
That was it, Spencer was going to kill him.
"- we can't thank you enough for all the trouble you've gone to."
Mary and Dave looked pink-cheeked and appreciative. Spencer was reminded, yet again, that Brendon had a special super-power when it came to winning over people. He would try harder himself, but he was on the brink of falling asleep right where he stood.
"We're really grateful," Spencer told them, eyes fixed on the heart-shaped red blanket draped over the couch. "But -"
"You should show us the kitchen and upstairs," Brendon said. "I know I'm dying to see it, and I'm sure Spencer is too, isn't that right, honeybun?"
Spencer kicked him in the ankle. "I'm sorry," he said firmly, ignoring Brendon's shit-eating grin. "You've all been so kind, but we haven't been to bed in over twenty four hours, and we're flagging."
"Of course," Anna said smoothly. "The keys are here, the welcome pack is there, there are emergency numbers in the back, and the check-out details are all written here on the inside back cover. Feel free to give me a ring or pop in if you need anything; Dave and Mary are just down the lane, and I know they'll want to help."
"We want you two to have the best honeymoon ever," Mary told them, beaming. "Pop down anytime, we'll tell you how to walk down to the beach and we can recommend some good places for you to eat and -"
Spencer smiled weakly. "Thanks," he said, cutting her off.
"We will take you up on that," Brendon said sunnily, and slid his arm around Spencer's waist. "Once Mr. Grumpy-boots has had some sleep."
It was impossible for Spencer to hate him any more than he did right now, and he couldn't even shrug away Brendon's arm until they'd stood at the front door and waved off Anna in her car, and Mary and Dave back down the road.
"So," Brendon said, brightly. "How would you like to spend our first night together as married men, Mr. Urie-Smith?"
"Fuck you," Spencer said, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to bed."
"I'm going to get a drink," Brendon said. "You sure you don't want anything?" Spencer wasn't sure where Brendon had got his second wind from, but he was bright-eyed and laughing, something Spencer couldn't have managed even if someone had paid him.
"I need to sleep," he said, almost too tired to negotiate the stairs. "I'll see you in the morning."
It was only when he got to the top of the stairs and into the bedroom that he realized there was only one bed. He shouldn't have expected any different, bearing in mind the honeymoon misunderstanding, but there was a difference between abstractly realizing that the honeymoon package had been laid out for them, and knowing that there was only one place in the cottage where he and Brendon could sleep. Together.
The room was cold. The bed was piled high with flower print covers, and topped off with a large knitted blanket, and there were heartshaped chocolates and rose petals all over the pillows.
"Fuck it," Spencer said succinctly, and, kicking off his shoes, he stumbled face first into bed, not even bothering to take off his clothes.
[next]
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(my favourite thing is using my welsh-accent!brainvoice. :D)
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Thank you for updating so soon! This is like the best serial goodnight story. ♥
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<3
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Oh dear. Little Miss NE England fails again!
-Faye xo
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