sunsetmog_fics (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sunsetmog_fics) wrote2012-01-04 08:52 pm
sunsetmog_fics) wrote2012-01-04 08:52 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: The Holiday [Brendon/Spencer, 6/?]
Title: The Holiday [6/?]
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: R (this part) NC-17 (overall)
Word count: 3,915 (this part)
Warnings: None.
Notes: Thank you tooctette for the original beta. Any remaining errors are my own. Additional thanks to harriet_vane for a post-edits britpick of this part. For ohohstarryeyed.
Further notes can be found in part one. Also posted here at AO3.
Inspired by The Holiday. Sort of. Um.
Previously: [I] [II] [III] [IV] [V].
~*~
"Do we have to change?" Brendon asked, once they'd finally stumbled back into the house later that evening, after the rest of the day mostly consisted of more cheese, more chocolate, and the naked, magnetic, dress-your-own-Viking play set. "For the pub?"
"I'm not," Spencer said lazily, tipping forward onto the couch and burying his face in the cushion. "But, then, I like the smell of twelve tons of very heavily matured cheese. It's like aftershave. Hey, you know what this place is missing? A dog."
"Bogart," Brendon said, frowning. "You think we can find someplace we can go and call Shane at some point?"
"You don't mean call Shane, you mean call Bogart," Spencer said in a muffled voice, not moving from the couch. "And we've got internet, let's just Skype him."
Brendon shoved Spencer's feet out of the way. Even though they ostensibly had the internet, Spencer had tried to figure out the complicated instructions Dave and Mary had written out in very neat handwriting and then laminated. Even though he'd followed the instructions to the letter, all his laptop had done was stare miserably at him and refuse to connect to anything resembling the web. Spencer was considering buying a laminator when they got back to LA, though, because the idea of getting to laminate passive aggressive notes for when they were on the bus was too good an idea to pass up. He had vague ideas of finding some truly amazing signs from the internet and putting them around Brendon's house, too. If you sprinkle when you tinkle could be just the tip of a very ridiculous iceberg. He planned on doing a nighttime swoop and then having Brendon just wake up to a house full of notes in Comic Sans with borders of little cups of coffee. Microsoft Publisher had a lot to answer for.
"Hey," Brendon poked him in the side. "Don't fall asleep, we're supposed to be going to the bar."
"To pretend we're married," Spencer said flatly, since this whole thing was his fault—or, rather, Brendon's fault for putting the stupid fucking movie on in the first place—and he felt kind of bad about the whole thing. He didn't want to go and be someone's positive role model for successful gay living when that wasn't actually what they were.
"Call it punishment," Brendon said lightly. There was something just this side of unfamiliar in Brendon's eyes, and Spencer didn't like that. Since the split—and for a while before it, too—it had just been the two of them, together, and Spencer prided himself on knowing pretty much everything that Brendon had to share. He didn't like it when he couldn't tell what Brendon was thinking, and recently it had seemed like it was happening more often. He couldn't tell if Brendon was deliberately hiding his feelings from him or not, but the possibility was a concern. What if they were growing further apart? What if they really weren't ever going to mesh musically again? It was so confusing, because sometimes Spencer felt they were growing closer, but at other times, it felt like just the opposite.
Spencer groaned, and rolled his shoulders, pulling himself awkwardly up into a sitting position. The lights twinkled merrily on the Christmas tree, and just for a moment Spencer imagined getting to stay here, with Brendon, for the whole of Christmas. He couldn't help the way his mind wandered towards sharing blankets and wine and Christmas morning. He couldn't help the way he kept thinking about last night, about sharing a bed and jerking off and getting to do that again, at Christmas. About how much he secretly wanted that.
"If his friends turn out to be assholes I'm blaming you," he said. "I'm going to change my shirt."
Gareth's friends did not appear at first glance to be assholes, which was a good thing, even though the pub turned out to be the kind of place where every single person in there knew that they were the gay married couple who'd rented out Mary and Dave's cottage for the holidays.
His friends weren't assholes, but they were interested, and Spencer had the uneasy experience of being stared at by a whole table of people while Brendon was at the bar with Gareth getting them their drinks. All five of Gareth's friends were sitting opposite him, all staring at him. He imagined this would be what an interview panel was like, if he'd ever actually had to sit before one of those. It was faintly reminiscent of some of the worst interviews they'd done as a band, but at least in those he could deflect attention towards Brendon, who liked talking to people. Being in a successful band did have its perks, although not being recognized in the darkest depths of the Welsh coast wasn't one of them. Or maybe it was, if the alternative was accidentally outing themselves as the gay married couple in Dave and Mary's vacation cottage.
The three guys were looking at him in bewildered confusion, which was maybe a little reassuring considering that was how Spencer felt too, while the girls looked predatorily interested, which was not.
"So," one of them said, resting her cheek on her palm. Her hair was a mass of tight curls, and right in the middle was a huge fuchsia flower. She'd introduced herself as Clare. "How long have you been with Brendon?"
"Fuck," Spencer said, without checking himself. He shot a glance towards the bar, but Brendon was leaning on it, chatting to the barman and Gareth, and no amount of wishing would make him turn around and realize Spencer's distress. "I've known Brendon since I was sixteen," he said, which wasn't an answer but was the closest he was going to be able to get without perjuring himself. Again. This was the last time he was ever completing an online form again, and he was never letting himself near a computer with alcohol in his system ever, ever, ever again.
"Awww," the other girl said. She was tall and round and had a squashed nose. Spencer liked that about her. She was Becca. "That's really sweet."
"Not really," Spencer said. "He had this one sweater, yellow and black striped. It was like the only thing he owned, I swear. He looked like a bumble bee."
"No way," Becca said, staring openly at Brendon leaning over the bar. "But he's so—he doesn't look like the kind of guy to dress like a bumble bee."
"It's okay," Claire said, glancing at Spencer and winking. "I think you can say that he's hot. His husband isn't going to disagree."
"Okay, he's too hot to have dressed like a bee."
"He was hot then, too," Spencer said, without thinking, and then went bright red. He'd come out to his mom and Ryan when he was fifteen, and not much had happened after that, but he'd be lying if he couldn't admit he hadn't at least considered Brendon's relative attractiveness when he'd shown up.
He'd actually be lying if he said he hadn't been considering Brendon's attractiveness on and off since the first time he met him, but whatever. It wasn't a thing. They weren't anything, marriage-deception aside. Best friends and that was all.
"Awww, of course he was," Becca said. "Have you been going out ever since then?"
"Um," Spencer managed, still bright red. Brendon was coming back over with the drinks, still talking to Gareth, who looked awkward. Gareth's three male friends were looking a little stony-faced.
"Brendon," Claire said, "Spencer was telling us how hot he found you when you were sixteen."
Brendon's gaze flicked to Spencer's, just for a moment, but his eyes were unreadable. Spencer just went even redder. "I was a hot teenager," Brendon said, lightly, and he dropped into the seat by Spencer, and slid his drink across to him. "All the high school kids wanted me."
"And only Spencer got you," Becca said, clapping her hands together before taking a long gulp of her drink. "That's adorable."
Brendon and Spencer exchanged glances. "Yeah, something like that," they said, and then Brendon turned his attention to Gareth and the three guys, who Gareth had introduced very quickly as Tom, Daniel and Griff.
"Have you all known each other long?"
"Since the first day of primary school," Claire said.
"Since playgroup, me and Daniel," Becca added. "Didn't you and Gareth go to the same playgroup, too, Griff?"
Griff shrugged. He had plaster dust on the shoulders of his sweater. He'd come straight from a house renovation, he said, and he was eyeing Brendon and Spencer with distrust. "Yep."
"Awesome," Brendon said, nodding. "Bet you know all of each other's secrets, huh?"
"Some of them," Tom said, shooting Gareth a look.
Spencer rolled his eyes. Becca saw, and managed a small, tight smile. Spencer very deliberately curled his fingers into Brendon's. "Is this going to be an issue?" he said.
"No," Daniel said. He was red-headed and tall and broad. "It isn't an issue, because we don't have a clue why you're here."
"They're honeymooning," Gareth said, sharply.
"So why are they wasting their time on us?" Tom asked. "We don't even know them."
"Don't be so rude, Tom," Becca said, shooting Brendon and Spencer an apologetic glance.
"They're here because I invited them," Gareth said. "Because I thought it would make it easier on you if you could see a gay couple, and then you'd be okay with me being gay too."
Daniel rolled his eyes. "We're all fine with you being gay, Gaz. You're the one who keeps going on about it."
"Uh," Spencer said, without really knowing why he was butting in, or even what he was doing here, exactly. "He can go on about it if he wants to. He doesn't have to be quiet just to make you feel better."
"Fine, whatever," Daniel said. "He's gay, we're all fine with it, can we just have a pint and forget about it?"
"This is what I mean," Gareth said. "You're all fine with it so long as I don't actually talk about it. What if I want to talk about it?" He trailed off. "What if I need to talk about it?"
Griff made a face. "I'm off," he said. "Got to get home for dinner."
"Griff," Gareth said. "Please. Stay."
Griff looked at Brendon and Spencer. "Bet you talk about being gay all the time, right?"
"Bisexual, actually," Spencer said, tiredly. Next to him, Brendon's knee jerked. Spencer kept his attention firmly fixed on Griff and Gareth. "And sometimes we do." He didn't, but whatever. Some secrets were better off hidden. "Do you feel like talking about being straight sometime, without someone stopping you?"
"I never said anything about me being straight," Griff said. "That's how I know you don't have to talk about being gay all the bloody time to be it."
Gareth looked a little like he'd been hit by a bus. "Griff—" he said, which was how Spencer knew that Griff was coming out to all of them, and not just Brendon and Spencer.
Wow, Spencer thought. His surprise was clearly echoed in everyone else at the table's faces.
"So," Griff went on, unhooking his coat from the back of the chair and setting off across the pub towards the door, drink forgotten. "I'm off."
"Christ," Daniel said, and then he elbowed Gareth in the ribs. "Go after him, you dickhead."
"Oh, right," Gareth said, still sounding confused, but then he was grabbing his coat, and his pint, and heading for the door, leaving a vaguely stunned Becca, Claire, Tom and Daniel sitting around a table with Brendon and Spencer.
"So," Brendon said brightly. His knee still seemed way too close to Spencer's. "Seems like homosexuality's catching, tonight."
Claire snorted, and even Daniel raised a smile. "I'd better not be next," he said, "not sure my mum would be pleased if I cancelled my wedding with two months to go because I'd decided I fancied blokes."
"Happens to the best of us," Brendon said, elbowing Spencer. Spencer very carefully didn't say anything. It was hot in this pub. "When are you getting married?"
"Beginning of March," Daniel said. "Sophie. She works behind the bar here. You'll see her, later. She's on tonight."
"Cool," Brendon said. "How long have you been together?"
"Since we were sixteen. Same as you and your husband."
"What—oh," Brendon said, stealing a glance at Spencer. "Since we were sixteen?"
Spencer felt uncontrollably hot, all of a sudden. "Yeah," he said. "I told them that."
Brendon's face seemed very—still. Just for a moment, before he switched his attention back to Gareth's friends. Spencer wondered if he'd imagined it.
"I wish I'd found someone when I was sixteen," Claire said, wistfully. "But I was with him, then." She nodded at Tom, who didn't seem like the type to say all that much. "Great big lummock that he is. Missed the window of opportunity."
Spencer laughed, just like the rest of them, Tom included. "Do you think Griff's okay?" he asked. "Was that—did you know before?" He felt curiously involved in what appeared to be Griff's coming out story, for reasons he wasn't all that inclined to spend time thinking about.
"News to me," Becca said, shrugging. "Makes sense, though. Never had a girlfriend. Reckon that's probably why Gareth invited you both—Griff's the one who's been weird with him since he told us he was gay."
"Now we know why," Claire said. "Hey, maybe they'll end up together, Griff and Gareth."
There was silence for a moment, as they all contemplated that. Spencer found himself wondering how things would turn out in the end, before remembering that he'd known these people half an hour and wouldn't know them anymore after tonight, but whatever, his interest was piqued.
"Whatever," Daniel said. "Griff'll be back, he's left his pint behind."
The rest of the evening passed in an odd kind of a blur. It wasn't like Spencer wasn't used to making small talk with strangers—a million meet and greets had made him at least competent at it, even though it wasn't his favorite thing—and they were introduced to Daniel's girlfriend, Sophie, who wanted to talk to them about weddings. We eloped, Spencer lied quickly, but he tried not to meet Brendon's gaze head-on. We didn't arrange anything.
Brendon's smile faltered, just for a moment, but not long enough for anyone other than Spencer to notice. Spencer didn't know why this mistake, this stupid fake-married mistake, why it wasn't turning out to be funny. He didn't know why his stomach felt like it was twisted up in knots half the time, and swooping the rest. It was all complicated and mixed up, and he'd wanted this vacation to be a rest, a break, a way to get back on track so they could go home and look at their unwritten album with fresh eyes. He sighed, and tried to smile, cheered when Brendon offered him a soft smile of his own. It wasn't as easy as he was used to, but it felt familiar, at least. Even if his stomach felt like it was in freefall.
Griff and Gareth came back in from the cold, and Griff spent most of the evening winning a fortune on the hangman quiz machine, occasionally yelling over a question for the rest of them to scramble over an answer. Spencer, after a while, found himself enjoying the evening, contrary to all expectation, although it was because of the company, and not because he got to spend a whole night with his leg pressed up against Brendon's and no reason to pull away.
It wasn't.
Maybe it was.
When they left, Gareth pressed his phone number into Spencer's hand and made them both promise to come back to the bar before they went back to LA. It was too easy to say yes, to pretend to be married, to pretend to be a part of something that didn't exist.
It was way too easy to go on pretending.
~*~
When Spencer woke up, it was to the tell-tale rustle of sheets as Brendon shrugged his pajama pants to mid-thigh. Spencer stayed still just as long as it took him to wake up enough to realize that Brendon was about to jerk off right next to him, and just long enough for him to feel a little left out that Brendon hadn't woken him up first so that he could join in.
"Hey," he said, groggily, rolling over and putting his hand out. "You didn't wake me—"
Brendon made a strange, gurgling kind of a noise and Spencer realized that his hand was on Brendon's dick, and that Brendon was hard.
"Oh," Spencer said, all of a sudden a hell of a lot more awake than he had been five seconds ago.
He very carefully didn't move his hand.
"Spencer," Brendon said slowly.
"I'm just saying," Spencer said. "You didn't wake me."
Brendon laughed awkwardly. "I didn't realize that this was an option." There was a pause, and then Brendon cleared his throat. "I would have woken you up if I'd known."
Spencer hadn't known right up until that moment that that was what he was offering. "Yeah, well," he said. His hand was still on Brendon's dick, and Brendon was hard, and hot, and Spencer suddenly wanted nothing more than to jerk him off. "You know now."
Brendon's hips jerked, and his dick moved under Spencer's hand. "What happens in this bed stays in this bed," he said, laughing kind of nervously.
"Yeah," Spencer said distractedly. He could smell the way that Brendon was turned on, and it made him—fuck, it made him want. "Orgasms are awesome."
"Right?" Brendon agreed, shifting his hips again so that his dick jerked. "There's nothing wrong with orgasms. It should be the more orgasms the better. That should be a rule."
"Agreed," Spencer said, and he wasn't entirely sure he'd ever jumped from asleep to wide awake this quickly before.
Brendon swallowed. "I'm just saying," he said, "that that was permission to jerk me off. In case you didn't realize that."
Spencer buried his face in the floral sheets and breathed. Then he moved his hand, circling Brendon's dick with his fist, and started to jerk him off.
Brendon's head fell back on the pillow, and Spencer could feel how much harder Brendon was getting in his fist. Spencer was getting hard too, and he rolled over a little so he could rock his dick against the mattress. It was awkward, but he stuck a hand down between himself and the bed, trying to shrug his pajama pants down. He rocked his hips against the sheets, pants uncomfortably bunched around his thighs, trying to concentrate on jerking Brendon off. It was tough when he was all of a sudden as hard as a rock, and then it was even harder because Brendon was moving, and saying, here, let me, and then they were jerking each other off.
Neither of them lasted long, which was a relief to Spencer, since he wouldn't have been able to live it down if he'd come long before Brendon. Not that it was a competition, or a race, but there was always a winner, and Spencer liked it to be him. He prided himself on his stamina. He'd practiced.
Brendon came with a tight, high whine, all over Spencer's fist. It was kind of gross for a minute, until Spencer came all over the sheets with Brendon's hand cupping his balls.
At least he could disappear to the bathroom with a hand covered in come and wash it off, which was more than could be said for the wet patch on the sheet.
He brought the hand towel back in to the bed with him, pointedly spreading it out over the wet patch and trying to ignore the way that Brendon was snorting in laughter.
"Shut up," Spencer said. "This is not my fault."
"You've said that a million times this vacation," Brendon told him, stretching luxuriously, like a cat, hand above his head. He rolled his hips. "You still made the booking. Fuck, this is totally what smoking in bed was invented for."
"You'd fall asleep," Spencer said, since he'd been shown a video about fire safety in elementary school and had had nightmares about it for years after seeing how fast blankets burned up. "And then we'd die. I like it best when we're alive."
"I wasn't really going to."
"Good," Spencer said, crawling back into bed and pulling the blankets up. It wasn't like the previous morning, when neither of them talked about it. Now it felt different, less stressful, easier, more like the relationship they had every day. Except with more orgasms. He put his arms behind his head, and shifted a little on the pillow so he could nudge Brendon's arm with his elbow. Getting close, he could smell the familiar tang of Brendon's sweat, and the stale remnants of the cologne he'd layered on before they'd gone to the pub with Gareth. And over the top of all that... the scent of arousal, of heat and sweat and come.
"If you're gunning to be the little spoon, you can fuck off," Brendon told him. "I want to be the little spoon."
"Shut up," Spencer said. He pressed his nose to the pale inside of Brendon's upper arm. "It's fucking cold out there. This is huddling for warmth."
"This is you doing your best impression of Bogart, you mean." Bogart was a hug stealer, a tiny, darting jolt of enthusiastic snuggles. Spencer was nothing like him. He just liked orgasms, was all.
"I just like orgasms."
There was a long, vaguely meaningful pause. "Me too," Brendon said. He waited a beat. "So, there's no reason why we shouldn't have more of them."
Spencer shifted so that he could see Brendon's face. He raised his eyebrows. Inside he felt like a ship on the ocean during a storm; he was so shaken he couldn't figure out which way was up, but he concentrated on keeping his face relatively calm. He just—there were all of these feelings caught up inside of him, and most of them were about Brendon, and orgasms, and how much Spencer was attracted to him, and how many more orgasms he wanted to share with him.
"We're on vacation, dude," Brendon said. "Vacations should equal orgasms—that's in the fucking rulebook, I'm sure."
"You hate rules," Spencer said, trying to sound as lazily indifferent as he could. Inside he couldn't stop thinking about getting to do this again. With Brendon. He was pretty sure that Brendon would be able to hear the loud beat of his heart from over there. "You say that rules are meant to be broken." Brendon wasn't actually a rule-breaker. He just pretended like he was. Spencer did nothing to dispel his charade. He couldn't have, even if he'd wanted to. Brendon. Orgasms.
"Orgasm rules are totally different. So. Are you in? Vacation orgasms?"
"Sure." Spencer wriggled a little further down the bed, tugging the blankets up and over his head so that only his nose peeked out. This way Brendon wouldn't be able to see the way his hands were shaking.
"Okay, so," Brendon said, sounding only half-awake. "Orgasms are now on the to-do list."
"Awesome," Spencer said.
It took him a long time to fall asleep.
~*~
[next]
Author:
sunsetmogFandom: Panic! at the Disco
Pairing: Brendon Urie / Spencer Smith
Rating: R (this part) NC-17 (overall)
Word count: 3,915 (this part)
Warnings: None.
Notes: Thank you to
octette for the original beta. Any remaining errors are my own. Additional thanks to harriet_vane for a post-edits britpick of this part. For ohohstarryeyed.Further notes can be found in part one. Also posted here at AO3.
Inspired by The Holiday. Sort of. Um.
Summary: Spencer was considering buying a laminator when they got back to LA, though, because the idea of getting to laminate passive aggressive notes for when they were on the bus was too good an idea to pass up. He had vague ideas of finding some truly amazing signs from the internet and putting them around Brendon's house, too. If you sprinkle when you tinkle could be just the tip of a very ridiculous iceberg. He planned on doing a nighttime swoop and then having Brendon just wake up to a house full of notes in Comic Sans with borders of little cups of coffee.
Previously: [I] [II] [III] [IV] [V].
~*~
"Do we have to change?" Brendon asked, once they'd finally stumbled back into the house later that evening, after the rest of the day mostly consisted of more cheese, more chocolate, and the naked, magnetic, dress-your-own-Viking play set. "For the pub?"
"I'm not," Spencer said lazily, tipping forward onto the couch and burying his face in the cushion. "But, then, I like the smell of twelve tons of very heavily matured cheese. It's like aftershave. Hey, you know what this place is missing? A dog."
"Bogart," Brendon said, frowning. "You think we can find someplace we can go and call Shane at some point?"
"You don't mean call Shane, you mean call Bogart," Spencer said in a muffled voice, not moving from the couch. "And we've got internet, let's just Skype him."
Brendon shoved Spencer's feet out of the way. Even though they ostensibly had the internet, Spencer had tried to figure out the complicated instructions Dave and Mary had written out in very neat handwriting and then laminated. Even though he'd followed the instructions to the letter, all his laptop had done was stare miserably at him and refuse to connect to anything resembling the web. Spencer was considering buying a laminator when they got back to LA, though, because the idea of getting to laminate passive aggressive notes for when they were on the bus was too good an idea to pass up. He had vague ideas of finding some truly amazing signs from the internet and putting them around Brendon's house, too. If you sprinkle when you tinkle could be just the tip of a very ridiculous iceberg. He planned on doing a nighttime swoop and then having Brendon just wake up to a house full of notes in Comic Sans with borders of little cups of coffee. Microsoft Publisher had a lot to answer for.
"Hey," Brendon poked him in the side. "Don't fall asleep, we're supposed to be going to the bar."
"To pretend we're married," Spencer said flatly, since this whole thing was his fault—or, rather, Brendon's fault for putting the stupid fucking movie on in the first place—and he felt kind of bad about the whole thing. He didn't want to go and be someone's positive role model for successful gay living when that wasn't actually what they were.
"Call it punishment," Brendon said lightly. There was something just this side of unfamiliar in Brendon's eyes, and Spencer didn't like that. Since the split—and for a while before it, too—it had just been the two of them, together, and Spencer prided himself on knowing pretty much everything that Brendon had to share. He didn't like it when he couldn't tell what Brendon was thinking, and recently it had seemed like it was happening more often. He couldn't tell if Brendon was deliberately hiding his feelings from him or not, but the possibility was a concern. What if they were growing further apart? What if they really weren't ever going to mesh musically again? It was so confusing, because sometimes Spencer felt they were growing closer, but at other times, it felt like just the opposite.
Spencer groaned, and rolled his shoulders, pulling himself awkwardly up into a sitting position. The lights twinkled merrily on the Christmas tree, and just for a moment Spencer imagined getting to stay here, with Brendon, for the whole of Christmas. He couldn't help the way his mind wandered towards sharing blankets and wine and Christmas morning. He couldn't help the way he kept thinking about last night, about sharing a bed and jerking off and getting to do that again, at Christmas. About how much he secretly wanted that.
"If his friends turn out to be assholes I'm blaming you," he said. "I'm going to change my shirt."
Gareth's friends did not appear at first glance to be assholes, which was a good thing, even though the pub turned out to be the kind of place where every single person in there knew that they were the gay married couple who'd rented out Mary and Dave's cottage for the holidays.
His friends weren't assholes, but they were interested, and Spencer had the uneasy experience of being stared at by a whole table of people while Brendon was at the bar with Gareth getting them their drinks. All five of Gareth's friends were sitting opposite him, all staring at him. He imagined this would be what an interview panel was like, if he'd ever actually had to sit before one of those. It was faintly reminiscent of some of the worst interviews they'd done as a band, but at least in those he could deflect attention towards Brendon, who liked talking to people. Being in a successful band did have its perks, although not being recognized in the darkest depths of the Welsh coast wasn't one of them. Or maybe it was, if the alternative was accidentally outing themselves as the gay married couple in Dave and Mary's vacation cottage.
The three guys were looking at him in bewildered confusion, which was maybe a little reassuring considering that was how Spencer felt too, while the girls looked predatorily interested, which was not.
"So," one of them said, resting her cheek on her palm. Her hair was a mass of tight curls, and right in the middle was a huge fuchsia flower. She'd introduced herself as Clare. "How long have you been with Brendon?"
"Fuck," Spencer said, without checking himself. He shot a glance towards the bar, but Brendon was leaning on it, chatting to the barman and Gareth, and no amount of wishing would make him turn around and realize Spencer's distress. "I've known Brendon since I was sixteen," he said, which wasn't an answer but was the closest he was going to be able to get without perjuring himself. Again. This was the last time he was ever completing an online form again, and he was never letting himself near a computer with alcohol in his system ever, ever, ever again.
"Awww," the other girl said. She was tall and round and had a squashed nose. Spencer liked that about her. She was Becca. "That's really sweet."
"Not really," Spencer said. "He had this one sweater, yellow and black striped. It was like the only thing he owned, I swear. He looked like a bumble bee."
"No way," Becca said, staring openly at Brendon leaning over the bar. "But he's so—he doesn't look like the kind of guy to dress like a bumble bee."
"It's okay," Claire said, glancing at Spencer and winking. "I think you can say that he's hot. His husband isn't going to disagree."
"Okay, he's too hot to have dressed like a bee."
"He was hot then, too," Spencer said, without thinking, and then went bright red. He'd come out to his mom and Ryan when he was fifteen, and not much had happened after that, but he'd be lying if he couldn't admit he hadn't at least considered Brendon's relative attractiveness when he'd shown up.
He'd actually be lying if he said he hadn't been considering Brendon's attractiveness on and off since the first time he met him, but whatever. It wasn't a thing. They weren't anything, marriage-deception aside. Best friends and that was all.
"Awww, of course he was," Becca said. "Have you been going out ever since then?"
"Um," Spencer managed, still bright red. Brendon was coming back over with the drinks, still talking to Gareth, who looked awkward. Gareth's three male friends were looking a little stony-faced.
"Brendon," Claire said, "Spencer was telling us how hot he found you when you were sixteen."
Brendon's gaze flicked to Spencer's, just for a moment, but his eyes were unreadable. Spencer just went even redder. "I was a hot teenager," Brendon said, lightly, and he dropped into the seat by Spencer, and slid his drink across to him. "All the high school kids wanted me."
"And only Spencer got you," Becca said, clapping her hands together before taking a long gulp of her drink. "That's adorable."
Brendon and Spencer exchanged glances. "Yeah, something like that," they said, and then Brendon turned his attention to Gareth and the three guys, who Gareth had introduced very quickly as Tom, Daniel and Griff.
"Have you all known each other long?"
"Since the first day of primary school," Claire said.
"Since playgroup, me and Daniel," Becca added. "Didn't you and Gareth go to the same playgroup, too, Griff?"
Griff shrugged. He had plaster dust on the shoulders of his sweater. He'd come straight from a house renovation, he said, and he was eyeing Brendon and Spencer with distrust. "Yep."
"Awesome," Brendon said, nodding. "Bet you know all of each other's secrets, huh?"
"Some of them," Tom said, shooting Gareth a look.
Spencer rolled his eyes. Becca saw, and managed a small, tight smile. Spencer very deliberately curled his fingers into Brendon's. "Is this going to be an issue?" he said.
"No," Daniel said. He was red-headed and tall and broad. "It isn't an issue, because we don't have a clue why you're here."
"They're honeymooning," Gareth said, sharply.
"So why are they wasting their time on us?" Tom asked. "We don't even know them."
"Don't be so rude, Tom," Becca said, shooting Brendon and Spencer an apologetic glance.
"They're here because I invited them," Gareth said. "Because I thought it would make it easier on you if you could see a gay couple, and then you'd be okay with me being gay too."
Daniel rolled his eyes. "We're all fine with you being gay, Gaz. You're the one who keeps going on about it."
"Uh," Spencer said, without really knowing why he was butting in, or even what he was doing here, exactly. "He can go on about it if he wants to. He doesn't have to be quiet just to make you feel better."
"Fine, whatever," Daniel said. "He's gay, we're all fine with it, can we just have a pint and forget about it?"
"This is what I mean," Gareth said. "You're all fine with it so long as I don't actually talk about it. What if I want to talk about it?" He trailed off. "What if I need to talk about it?"
Griff made a face. "I'm off," he said. "Got to get home for dinner."
"Griff," Gareth said. "Please. Stay."
Griff looked at Brendon and Spencer. "Bet you talk about being gay all the time, right?"
"Bisexual, actually," Spencer said, tiredly. Next to him, Brendon's knee jerked. Spencer kept his attention firmly fixed on Griff and Gareth. "And sometimes we do." He didn't, but whatever. Some secrets were better off hidden. "Do you feel like talking about being straight sometime, without someone stopping you?"
"I never said anything about me being straight," Griff said. "That's how I know you don't have to talk about being gay all the bloody time to be it."
Gareth looked a little like he'd been hit by a bus. "Griff—" he said, which was how Spencer knew that Griff was coming out to all of them, and not just Brendon and Spencer.
Wow, Spencer thought. His surprise was clearly echoed in everyone else at the table's faces.
"So," Griff went on, unhooking his coat from the back of the chair and setting off across the pub towards the door, drink forgotten. "I'm off."
"Christ," Daniel said, and then he elbowed Gareth in the ribs. "Go after him, you dickhead."
"Oh, right," Gareth said, still sounding confused, but then he was grabbing his coat, and his pint, and heading for the door, leaving a vaguely stunned Becca, Claire, Tom and Daniel sitting around a table with Brendon and Spencer.
"So," Brendon said brightly. His knee still seemed way too close to Spencer's. "Seems like homosexuality's catching, tonight."
Claire snorted, and even Daniel raised a smile. "I'd better not be next," he said, "not sure my mum would be pleased if I cancelled my wedding with two months to go because I'd decided I fancied blokes."
"Happens to the best of us," Brendon said, elbowing Spencer. Spencer very carefully didn't say anything. It was hot in this pub. "When are you getting married?"
"Beginning of March," Daniel said. "Sophie. She works behind the bar here. You'll see her, later. She's on tonight."
"Cool," Brendon said. "How long have you been together?"
"Since we were sixteen. Same as you and your husband."
"What—oh," Brendon said, stealing a glance at Spencer. "Since we were sixteen?"
Spencer felt uncontrollably hot, all of a sudden. "Yeah," he said. "I told them that."
Brendon's face seemed very—still. Just for a moment, before he switched his attention back to Gareth's friends. Spencer wondered if he'd imagined it.
"I wish I'd found someone when I was sixteen," Claire said, wistfully. "But I was with him, then." She nodded at Tom, who didn't seem like the type to say all that much. "Great big lummock that he is. Missed the window of opportunity."
Spencer laughed, just like the rest of them, Tom included. "Do you think Griff's okay?" he asked. "Was that—did you know before?" He felt curiously involved in what appeared to be Griff's coming out story, for reasons he wasn't all that inclined to spend time thinking about.
"News to me," Becca said, shrugging. "Makes sense, though. Never had a girlfriend. Reckon that's probably why Gareth invited you both—Griff's the one who's been weird with him since he told us he was gay."
"Now we know why," Claire said. "Hey, maybe they'll end up together, Griff and Gareth."
There was silence for a moment, as they all contemplated that. Spencer found himself wondering how things would turn out in the end, before remembering that he'd known these people half an hour and wouldn't know them anymore after tonight, but whatever, his interest was piqued.
"Whatever," Daniel said. "Griff'll be back, he's left his pint behind."
The rest of the evening passed in an odd kind of a blur. It wasn't like Spencer wasn't used to making small talk with strangers—a million meet and greets had made him at least competent at it, even though it wasn't his favorite thing—and they were introduced to Daniel's girlfriend, Sophie, who wanted to talk to them about weddings. We eloped, Spencer lied quickly, but he tried not to meet Brendon's gaze head-on. We didn't arrange anything.
Brendon's smile faltered, just for a moment, but not long enough for anyone other than Spencer to notice. Spencer didn't know why this mistake, this stupid fake-married mistake, why it wasn't turning out to be funny. He didn't know why his stomach felt like it was twisted up in knots half the time, and swooping the rest. It was all complicated and mixed up, and he'd wanted this vacation to be a rest, a break, a way to get back on track so they could go home and look at their unwritten album with fresh eyes. He sighed, and tried to smile, cheered when Brendon offered him a soft smile of his own. It wasn't as easy as he was used to, but it felt familiar, at least. Even if his stomach felt like it was in freefall.
Griff and Gareth came back in from the cold, and Griff spent most of the evening winning a fortune on the hangman quiz machine, occasionally yelling over a question for the rest of them to scramble over an answer. Spencer, after a while, found himself enjoying the evening, contrary to all expectation, although it was because of the company, and not because he got to spend a whole night with his leg pressed up against Brendon's and no reason to pull away.
It wasn't.
Maybe it was.
When they left, Gareth pressed his phone number into Spencer's hand and made them both promise to come back to the bar before they went back to LA. It was too easy to say yes, to pretend to be married, to pretend to be a part of something that didn't exist.
It was way too easy to go on pretending.
~*~
When Spencer woke up, it was to the tell-tale rustle of sheets as Brendon shrugged his pajama pants to mid-thigh. Spencer stayed still just as long as it took him to wake up enough to realize that Brendon was about to jerk off right next to him, and just long enough for him to feel a little left out that Brendon hadn't woken him up first so that he could join in.
"Hey," he said, groggily, rolling over and putting his hand out. "You didn't wake me—"
Brendon made a strange, gurgling kind of a noise and Spencer realized that his hand was on Brendon's dick, and that Brendon was hard.
"Oh," Spencer said, all of a sudden a hell of a lot more awake than he had been five seconds ago.
He very carefully didn't move his hand.
"Spencer," Brendon said slowly.
"I'm just saying," Spencer said. "You didn't wake me."
Brendon laughed awkwardly. "I didn't realize that this was an option." There was a pause, and then Brendon cleared his throat. "I would have woken you up if I'd known."
Spencer hadn't known right up until that moment that that was what he was offering. "Yeah, well," he said. His hand was still on Brendon's dick, and Brendon was hard, and hot, and Spencer suddenly wanted nothing more than to jerk him off. "You know now."
Brendon's hips jerked, and his dick moved under Spencer's hand. "What happens in this bed stays in this bed," he said, laughing kind of nervously.
"Yeah," Spencer said distractedly. He could smell the way that Brendon was turned on, and it made him—fuck, it made him want. "Orgasms are awesome."
"Right?" Brendon agreed, shifting his hips again so that his dick jerked. "There's nothing wrong with orgasms. It should be the more orgasms the better. That should be a rule."
"Agreed," Spencer said, and he wasn't entirely sure he'd ever jumped from asleep to wide awake this quickly before.
Brendon swallowed. "I'm just saying," he said, "that that was permission to jerk me off. In case you didn't realize that."
Spencer buried his face in the floral sheets and breathed. Then he moved his hand, circling Brendon's dick with his fist, and started to jerk him off.
Brendon's head fell back on the pillow, and Spencer could feel how much harder Brendon was getting in his fist. Spencer was getting hard too, and he rolled over a little so he could rock his dick against the mattress. It was awkward, but he stuck a hand down between himself and the bed, trying to shrug his pajama pants down. He rocked his hips against the sheets, pants uncomfortably bunched around his thighs, trying to concentrate on jerking Brendon off. It was tough when he was all of a sudden as hard as a rock, and then it was even harder because Brendon was moving, and saying, here, let me, and then they were jerking each other off.
Neither of them lasted long, which was a relief to Spencer, since he wouldn't have been able to live it down if he'd come long before Brendon. Not that it was a competition, or a race, but there was always a winner, and Spencer liked it to be him. He prided himself on his stamina. He'd practiced.
Brendon came with a tight, high whine, all over Spencer's fist. It was kind of gross for a minute, until Spencer came all over the sheets with Brendon's hand cupping his balls.
At least he could disappear to the bathroom with a hand covered in come and wash it off, which was more than could be said for the wet patch on the sheet.
He brought the hand towel back in to the bed with him, pointedly spreading it out over the wet patch and trying to ignore the way that Brendon was snorting in laughter.
"Shut up," Spencer said. "This is not my fault."
"You've said that a million times this vacation," Brendon told him, stretching luxuriously, like a cat, hand above his head. He rolled his hips. "You still made the booking. Fuck, this is totally what smoking in bed was invented for."
"You'd fall asleep," Spencer said, since he'd been shown a video about fire safety in elementary school and had had nightmares about it for years after seeing how fast blankets burned up. "And then we'd die. I like it best when we're alive."
"I wasn't really going to."
"Good," Spencer said, crawling back into bed and pulling the blankets up. It wasn't like the previous morning, when neither of them talked about it. Now it felt different, less stressful, easier, more like the relationship they had every day. Except with more orgasms. He put his arms behind his head, and shifted a little on the pillow so he could nudge Brendon's arm with his elbow. Getting close, he could smell the familiar tang of Brendon's sweat, and the stale remnants of the cologne he'd layered on before they'd gone to the pub with Gareth. And over the top of all that... the scent of arousal, of heat and sweat and come.
"If you're gunning to be the little spoon, you can fuck off," Brendon told him. "I want to be the little spoon."
"Shut up," Spencer said. He pressed his nose to the pale inside of Brendon's upper arm. "It's fucking cold out there. This is huddling for warmth."
"This is you doing your best impression of Bogart, you mean." Bogart was a hug stealer, a tiny, darting jolt of enthusiastic snuggles. Spencer was nothing like him. He just liked orgasms, was all.
"I just like orgasms."
There was a long, vaguely meaningful pause. "Me too," Brendon said. He waited a beat. "So, there's no reason why we shouldn't have more of them."
Spencer shifted so that he could see Brendon's face. He raised his eyebrows. Inside he felt like a ship on the ocean during a storm; he was so shaken he couldn't figure out which way was up, but he concentrated on keeping his face relatively calm. He just—there were all of these feelings caught up inside of him, and most of them were about Brendon, and orgasms, and how much Spencer was attracted to him, and how many more orgasms he wanted to share with him.
"We're on vacation, dude," Brendon said. "Vacations should equal orgasms—that's in the fucking rulebook, I'm sure."
"You hate rules," Spencer said, trying to sound as lazily indifferent as he could. Inside he couldn't stop thinking about getting to do this again. With Brendon. He was pretty sure that Brendon would be able to hear the loud beat of his heart from over there. "You say that rules are meant to be broken." Brendon wasn't actually a rule-breaker. He just pretended like he was. Spencer did nothing to dispel his charade. He couldn't have, even if he'd wanted to. Brendon. Orgasms.
"Orgasm rules are totally different. So. Are you in? Vacation orgasms?"
"Sure." Spencer wriggled a little further down the bed, tugging the blankets up and over his head so that only his nose peeked out. This way Brendon wouldn't be able to see the way his hands were shaking.
"Okay, so," Brendon said, sounding only half-awake. "Orgasms are now on the to-do list."
"Awesome," Spencer said.
It took him a long time to fall asleep.
~*~
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Also:
He planned on doing a nighttime swoop and then having Brendon just wake up to a house full of notes in Comic Sans with borders of little cups of coffee. Microsoft Publisher had a lot to answer for.
*dies laughing* I'd LOVE to see that!
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spencer and his huddling for warmth with shaking hands. ugh. love them/it/you.
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anyways, i just wanted to tell you i'm loving this story with all of my heart :)
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Buy I did and it was so worth it omg!!
<3
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