skoosiepants | New Panic! Fic: The Way It Is Now

So I wanted to expand on my Brendon is afraid of girls and Spencer must comfort him snippet, and then it snowballed into this, which is quick, unbeta’d, possibly makes no sense, and way longer than I’d planned. Apologies for the eating babies running gag (couldn’t help myself), the many references to zombie fangirls (also: couldn’t help myself), and the floof. Setting is, um, a near-future hypothetical bandom extravaganza tour? Enjoy. Let me know if you spot any errors.

The Way It Is Now | PG-13 | Brendon/Spencer | ~6,000
He ponders on how exactly to phrase his question. Finally, he sends, is spencer dying andor eating babies
download the soundtrack

The Way It Is Now

Brendon kind of hates Haley. “I kind of hate Haley,” Brendon says to Ryan, then slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes huge, because he totally hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Ryan snorts, doesn’t look up from his Sidekick, skinny-ass fingers flying. “Yeah, okay. She says she hates you, too.”

“Are you—” Brendon’s own Sidekick buzzes and he flips it open, sees its because you’re scared of girls and his mouth purses into a frown. He totally regrets giving Haley his number, despite their many awesome chats that Spencer may or may not know about.

am not, he types, still scowling.

totally are.

“I.” Brendon stops, glares at Ryan, then back down at his cell. “I’m not afraid of girls,” he mutters, and Ryan laughs, loud and short, like the sound was startled out of him.

Ryan laughing at him is totally not funny.

*

It’s possible that Ryan and Haley think he’s afraid of girls – which he completely isn’t, by the way, honest – because of that time a couple months ago when those girls - rabid fangirls, and they possibly had communicable diseases and they were abnormally cold, and zombies could not be entirely ruled out - had accosted him outside the Pittsburgh venue, and Brendon had been exhausted and crashing hard and that was a totally reasonable explanation for wriggling into Spencer’s lap on the bus and burying his face in his neck and demanding manly hugs to, you know, wipe away all the zombie girl cooties.

Ryan had laughed then, too.

Spencer had sort of patted him on the back, and then, when he’d refused to let go – seriously, he could still feel their dead-like fingers skating across the skin of his hands – he’d sighed and pulled Brendon closer, slumping into the couch, and the last thing Brendon remembered was yawning and nuzzling his nose behind Spencer’s ear and telling him he smelled like vanilla cake and boy, which is kind of embarrassing in retrospect, but Spencer never brings it up.

Ryan does, though. Jon, too, all the time, and Brendon’s seriously tired of their, “Oh, Jon, you smell like boy,” and, “How about some delicious vanilla cake, Ryan?” and it wasn’t funny when they’d started doing it and it’s not funny now, even when Ryan drapes himself all over Jon in imitation and Jon gets that sparkling gleam in his eyes that Brendon loves more than anything, because it means Jon’s going to smile at any moment, and Jon’s smiles are second only to Spencer’s.

Honestly, it’s not even cute. For real.

*

“Haley thinks I’m afraid of girls,” Brendon tells Spencer, arms crossed over his chest. He’s maybe pouting, just a little.

Spencer arches an eyebrow, sets his glass of orange juice on the counter. “Okay.”

“It’s not true.” He pouts harder.

Spencer grabs his wrist, tugs him up against his side, presses his thumb into Brendon’s lower lip. “Of course not,” he says.

Spencer is really, really warm. Brendon ducks his head, grins against Spencer’s shoulder. “You should tell your girlfriend that,” he says, muffled against the thin t-shirt, and Spencer sort of freezes underneath him.

“Um.”

Brendon pulls back, looks up at him. “What?”

Spencer’s cheeks are suspiciously pink. “Nothing,” he says. “I’ll make sure to let her know.”

*

It’s true that Brendon’s had only one official girlfriend. He’s dated some, but Audrey’s the only one who’d stuck, and even then it was mostly her being mean to him and pushing him around and it was like dating a vapid, female version of Ryan Ross. Brendon kind of suspects – and he’s not proud of this, he really isn’t – that’s the only reason she’d lasted as long as she did.

On paper – Brendon likes to think like that, on paper, even though he doesn’t actually ever write anything down, because he’s not anal like Ryan – having a girlfriend was awesome: he got free cuddles and, if he played his cards right, laid on a regular basis, and he had someone to talk to about everything that he wanted to talk about. Except Audrey, in reality, had hated cuddling, and she’d hardly ever been there when they were on tour, and he mainly thought she blocked out his voice whenever he started talking, although he couldn’t actually prove that.

He gets that kind of support from Ryan and Spencer – plus, bonus, Spencer actually lets him curl up on his lap occasionally - so that wasn’t much of an incentive to keep her around.

It was right around that time, too, that he’d figured out he was gay.

*

gay does not equal scared of girls, Brendon texts to Haley, making sure to use extra force with the little keys. i’m totally not scared of you.

There’s no actual response, but he can hear Spencer laughing in the back lounge.

*

Maybe, deep down inside, Brendon had expected a little more drama when he came out.

Jon at least had the decency to pause his game of Guitar Hero, but Ryan had just quirked an eyebrow at him and then kept talking on the phone to Keltie.

Jon had said, “Cool, dude,” nodding, and he’d nudged Ryan’s leg and Ryan had rolled his eyes and shot Brendon a thumbs-up.

Spencer had not been in the room. It totally hadn’t been deliberate – he’d thought Spencer was in the room, when he’d bounded up on the bus and announced, “Guys, guys, I’m one hundred percent gay, for sure,” after he’d spent an hour making out with Jared the sound tech – but Spencer had definitely not been in the room.

He’d learned that fact later, when he’d been explaining his first “hardcore full-on gay experience” – coined by the lovely Ryan Ross – to Haley, using Spencer’s phone, since he’d kind of grabbed it right out of his hands in his total gay excitement – gay! He’d finally found his sexual niche! – and Spencer had sort of choked on his piece of gum.

Brendon almost had to give him the Heimlich maneuver. He’s really glad he didn’t actually have to give it to him, though, because he has no idea how to do the Heimlich maneuver, but if Spencer had needed him to do it, he totally would have tried his damnedest.

Anyway, Spencer had been pretty surprised. That was the kind of reaction Brendon had been hoping for.

*

Initially, Brendon had given Haley his number when it became clear that Haley had wanted to hear more about his sexual escapades and that Spencer did not.

Haley’d wanted details and Brendon’s awesome at giving details, he totally is - like how Jared the sound tech’s great at blowjobs, but sort of sucks with his hands, and how he’d be completely okay with fucking, eventually, just not with Jared or that Fall Out Boy roadie, Dominic, who has these awesome fingers but is scary in every other aspect, because he’s seriously huge, like Beckett-tall, only not built like an anorexic girl - and no one else had wanted to hear that.

After that first incident, when Spencer had ripped his phone out of his hands and said, “No way, seriously, stop,” Brendon had started texting her on his own time.

The immediate downside to Brendon’s relationship with Haley, of course, turned out to be that Haley had wanted to talk about Spencer, and not only had that been wrong, so wrong – at first he’d thought, cool! Except not, because now he knows, in theory, what Spencer looks like when he comes – but Brendon had been kind of freaked out and turned on at the same time.

To his credit, he totally hadn’t known going in that it’d be like that – and he’d made sure to nip that line of TMI in the bud as quickly as possible - but Haley had sort of sneak-attacked him.

He’d always assumed girls were, you know, discreet, but Haley’s a tit-for-tat girl, apparently, and it’d actually taken a few days after their first fierce talk before Brendon could look Spencer square in the eye again. And not picture him naked. Her myspace photos hadn’t helped.

*

“Spencer,” Brendon whispers, sitting on the floor by Spencer’s bunk. “Are you awake?”

Spencer mumbles something incoherent, but his hand slips out from behind the curtain and he sort of half-heartedly punches Brendon in the shoulder.

“Spencer? Hey, Spencer?” He gets up on his knees, hands gripping the edge of the bunk and nose twitching under the hem of the curtain.

“Go away,” Spencer says, and this time his words are precise and most definitely awake.

Brendon moves closer, so his head’s mostly inside the bunk, chin on the mattress. “Spencer, I think Ryan and Jon are having sex.”

Spencer jerks up, bumps his head on the top of the bunk and curses, “Fuck,” and Brendon bites his lip to keep from laughing.

Spencer’s hair is sticking up and his eyes are sleep-swollen and he cradles his head, groans, and says, “What the fuck, Brendon?”

Brendon nods, pushes up and into Spencer’s bed and shoves him over, because it’s cold out there on the floor, and Ryan and Jon are not in their bunks, where they were when they’d all collectively gone to sleep – which they do on occasion, and Brendon thinks it’s sweet - and Brendon’s imagination keeps swinging from hot sweaty sex in the lounge to girl zombies creeping stealthily on the bus to eat them all, Ryan and Jon their first victims.

He shimmies under Spencer’s covers, tugs them up to his chin and murmurs, “Zombies, Spencer. They’ll eat my brains.”

“They’ll starve, then,” Spencer says dryly, but he settles back down, turning so he curls around Brendon, arm tucked over his chest and nose pressed into his nape.

Brendon hums, squirms when Spencer’s arm tightens against him.

“Bad dream?” Spencer finally asks, soft, and Brendon just nods on a yawn, eyes closed, already drifting off again.

*

When Brendon wakes up, Spencer is half-sitting, Sidekick out, and his cheeks look flushed in the dim light filtering through the curtains. He’s propped up against the wall, one knee bent, other leg tucked under and between Brendon’s legs.

Brendon yawns against his palm, curls into Spencer’s stomach.

“Haley?” he asks, voice sleep-hoarse.

Spencer makes an affirmative noise, and Brendon tilts his head back, sees the soft smile, and something twists in his gut.

“What?” Spencer switches his gaze to Brendon, lips still quirked up.

“Nothing.” Brendon ducks back down again, clutches at Spencer’s hip, and tries not to think about how royally screwed he is.

Spencer jostles his shoulder, slips his Sidekick under Brendon’s nose.

morning, bden, Haley wrote.

Brendon snuffles into Spencer’s shirt, then grabs the Sidekick and rolls over onto his stomach, frees his right hand to type, hi.

*

It isn’t that Brendon actually hates Haley. Haley’s pretty awesome, as far as girls go, and her hands are usually as warm as her smile, so it kind of makes it harder that Brendon is ridiculously in love with Spencer. This is a recent and disturbing conclusion Brendon has come to.

He wishes he could hate Haley.

He really, really does.

*

Ryan and Jon, sadly, had not spent the night in the back lounge having sex. Brendon finds this out by dramatically throwing the door wide with a loud, “Ah-ha!” and catching the two of them doing absolutely nothing. On opposite sides of the room.

“You guys are boring,” Brendon says, dropping down onto the couch next to Jon. “Although, yay for not being eaten by zombies.”

Ryan doesn’t even twitch from his sprawl on the floor, a book flattened out in front of him.

Jon yawns. “Okay.”

Brendon pokes him in the side. “Why weren’t you in bed last night?”

“I’m CIA,” Jon says, flipping idly through the TV channels. “Ryan woke up at an inopportune moment, so I had to improvise my mission or risk blowing my cover and getting Ryan’s face shot off.”

Brendon nods solemnly. “Thanks for bringing him home in one piece.”

“No problem.” He slumps down further on the couch, legs spread. “I’m a trained professional.”

*

Brendon’s pretty sure avoiding touching Spencer won’t solve anything, but he gives it a shot, anyway. He no longer crawls into his bunk when zombie nightmares wake him up. He doesn’t demand hugs, doesn’t squish next to him on the couch. It aches, almost, not being able to curl up in Spencer’s lap anymore, but he needs to be a grown man about this, an adult.

stop being an asshole, Haley texts him one afternoon.

Brendon scowls. hi devil woman.

youre making Spencer sad :(

Brendon narrows his eyes across the lounge. Spencer is laughing with Jon, setting up a game of Mario Kart. doesn’t look sad, he types.

he hides his emo well. dont make me kick your ass.

Brendon huffs an exaggerated sigh. i’m not doing anything, he insists.

I know, baby, she texts, and when he shoots back, what? she doesn’t give him any answer.

*

“What are you doing?” Spencer asks, eyeing Brendon warily.

Brendon clenches his hands around his glass. “Drinking milk.” On my own side of the table, he adds in his head. He’s totally awesome at this space thing.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Spencer points out, “and you’ve got every single light on. Are you okay?”

Brendon bobs his head. He’s a-okay, seriously. There’s no such thing as monsters. He doesn’t know where these weird nightmares are coming from, honestly, because he used to be a sound sleeper, the soundest. Granted, he didn’t used to have scary movie marathons to get over his “crazy fear of the hypothetical fangirl undead,” thanks a lot, Zach.

Spencer’s frown deepens. “Another bad dream?” he asks.

Brendon opens and closes his hands on his glass, cocks his head. “Do you think if Ryan was really an evil mastermind bent on world domination he’d tell us?”

Spencer taps his fingers on the tabletop. “No,” he says, like he’s actually given it some thought, “but I don’t think that’s anything to have nightmares about.”

Brendon nods, because that’s true enough. He’s fairly sure Ryan wouldn’t take out his evil fury on his own bandmates.

Spencer rolls his eyes, gets to his feet. “Come on,” he says, standing next to the bench seat, “you can bunk with me,” but Brendon’s shaking his head before he even gets out the word ‘bunk,’ because he can’t, he can’t.

Haley’s his friend, and he wants to molest Spencer – boy howdy does he want to molest Spencer – and that would be going to a very bad and mean place. Brendon is not purposefully mean.

“I’m okay,” Brendon says. “I can sleep on my own.”

Oddly enough, Spencer looks like he wants to argue, hands on his hips, mouth pulled down at a slightly bitchy angle. Finally, though, he just shrugs, says, “Whatever,” and leaves Brendon alone.

*

Brendon’s maybe a little scared of Haley. “I’m maybe afraid of Haley,” he says, then seriously beats his head against the doorjamb, because really? Really?

Ryan just stares at him.

Jon says, “I’m not going to ask why,” and that could mean that he doesn’t want to know why, or it could mean that he already knows why, knows that Brendon is sort of ridiculously in love with Spencer, and that Haley would probably rip out his heart with her bare hands if she knew, since it was only very, very recently that he’d given up his nighttime Spencer snuggle-fests.

“Um.” Brendon widens his eyes and bites his lip.

“You’re kind of an idiot,” Ryan says, and Jon laughs.

*

They’re in the Midwest. They’re somewhere dry and flat and the buses are idling at a random rest stop surrounded by golden wheat fields.

Brendon is sitting cross-legged behind a shady oak. He’s totally not hiding from Spencer, honestly.

When Spencer shows up in front of him, standing in a way that could have been described as looming if he wasn’t cocking his hip so much, Brendon says, “I’m not hiding from you,” as convincingly as he can.

Spencer eyes him sharply, then says, voice slow, “Okay.”

“Right.” Brendon nods.

“Want to tell me what that was all about then?” Spencer asks, and Brendon absolutely does not, he doesn’t, which is why he was hiding in the first place.

Although the terrible secret of Brendon being in love with Spencer is a recent and disturbing revelation, Brendon’s pretty sure it isn’t anything sudden. Upon reflection, Brendon had possibly been in love with Spencer since the beginning, since that first day, when Spencer had stared pissily at him over his drum kit after Brendon’d accidentally tripped over his own feet and gone tumbling into Ryan, clocking his guitar against the back of the couch and making Ryan stumble to his knees.

Spencer had been all baby fat and long hair and strength, like he could take on the whole world if it meant no one would ever push Ryan over again. Brendon had been intensely jealous of Ryan, then. Instantly and irrationally jealous, and he’d spent the next five years wanting and waiting for Spencer to look that way over him.

“I’m sorry.” Brendon’s good at apologizing. He’s good at it, he does it a lot, sometimes even when he’s really not sorry, and he’s not ashamed to admit that, he isn’t, because that way he usually doesn’t have to explain himself, explain the whys and why nots.

Spencer doesn’t seem to be buying it, though. His hands migrate from his hips and over his chest, arms crossing. He’s tapping his foot, an impatient rhythm.

Brendon had maybe done a bad thing. He might’ve, possibly, slapped Ryan.

*

Sometimes, Brendon doesn’t know where his logic comes from. Like, he can take out his frustration on Ryan - who had seriously been getting annoying, though, with his smirks and knowing looks – but not Haley. Like he can lose his temper, snap, with Ryan, one of his best friends, and yet Haley, who he likes, yes, but barely knows, honestly, he has to tread lightly around, and okay. Okay, maybe that logic does work, because no matter what, Brendon’s pretty sure Ryan will always forgive him.

Pretty sure, of course, because Ryan is unpredictable at the best of times, and Ryan the evil mastermind taking over the world one undead fangirl at a time has not been completely swept off the table.

Spencer has never gotten over his protective streak where Ryan is concerned. If Brendon was honest-to-god trying to get into Spencer’s pants, the slapping of Ryan would’ve probably been an extreme tactical error.

*

It’s late, but Brendon’s only dozing, and his Sidekick vibrates his whole bunk shelf when it goes off. He reaches for it, yawning.

you are so dumb, Haley sent.

Brendon scrubs a hand over his eyes and sighs. thanks

Ryan?

love tap, he types, and then adds, i was jealous, because of the same twisted logic that probably caused Brendon to slap Ryan in the first place.

Haley texts, duh, and then Brendon spots a narrow line of light along the floor, pulls his curtain back to see a glow flickering underneath the door to the back lounge.

He snaps his Sidekick shut, stuffs it under his pillow, then drops off his bed, sock-feet a muffled thump on the thin carpet. He can hear Jon snoring, sees Ryan’s bare foot dangling out of his bunk, and he sneaks back, pushes the lounge door open as quietly as he can.

Spencer’s face is cast slightly bluish from the TV screen, his eyes at half-mast.

“Spencer?” Brendon asks, stepping tentatively into the room.

“Hey.” He tilts his head, slow like he’s sleepy, blinks at Brendon. A soft smile curls his lips, and Brendon’s not sure when Spencer had forgiven him, but it’s a far cry from his icy glares over dinner earlier.

“Haley says I’m dumb,” Brendon blurts out.

They’re close enough that Spencer can reach out, catch the ends of his fingers, pull him down onto the couch next to him. He points to his own Sidekick, lying open on the cushions. “She told me.”

“Oh.” Brendon holds himself rigid, vibrating with nervous energy. He’s waiting for Spencer to ask why, to demand the answers he couldn’t, wouldn’t give him that afternoon, but Spencer doesn’t.

He just pulls him closer, catches Brendon’s thigh and tugs his leg over his lap, leans down to close his eyes against the crook of Brendon’s neck.

*

Brendon is totally confused. That’s actually not so surprising – Brendon spends a great deal of time pretending he knows exactly what’s going on when he really has no idea, but normally that’s because Ryan’s being Book Smart or arguing with Jon about artsy films – except Brendon is totally confused by Spencer and Spencer is never confusing. To him, at least.

Spencer is bitchy and mocking and gives out soft hugs and sly smiles and he doesn’t make Brendon sit through noir movies that make Brendon’s brain hurt and that’s standard. Brendon can always depend on these things.

Normally, though, his face doesn’t light up when Brendon enters a room.

He doesn’t save Brendon seats, especially if it’s the comfy couch, and he never ever shares his specialty hot chocolate and bags of mini-marshmallows. Brendon doesn’t exactly want to complain – marshmallows! – but it’s kind of weird, and Brendon feels like maybe Spencer’s about to drop a bomb on him or something, like maybe he’s started eating babies as a side hobby.

Brendon could ask Ryan about it, but Ryan’s still upset about the slapping incident – Brendon’s hiding all his ditties in his bunk, because his toothbrush should never be anywhere near a toilet when Ryan’s full of righteous anger - and he’d ask Jon, except Jon has this ridiculous I-know-nothing policy, even when he knows everything, so Brendon ends up just texting Haley.

bee honest, Brendon texts.

Just over an hour later, Haley writes back, I am.

He ponders on how exactly to phrase his question. Finally, he sends, is spencer dying andor eating babies

babies, wot?

Brendon frowns. hes being creepynice.

ok

Brendon frowns harder. Haley isn’t being helpful at all.

Then she texts, I seriosly hate boys, and Brendon doesn’t know what to make of that.

*

“Are you dying?” Brendon asks, sort of exasperated, because Spencer made him pancakes. Spencer making pancakes is not such a rare occurrence, really – Spencer makes the best breakfast food out of all of them - except he’s made Brendon’s stack with chocolate chips. There’s a smiley face on the top one, even.

Spencer’s previously pleasant expression drops into an immediate scowl. “No.”

Brendon mentally crosses dying off of his list of Reasons Why Spencer Has Suddenly Gone Insane. He’s pretty relieved, even if that does leave it wide open for the eating babies theory.

*

After the pancakes, everything seems to settle back into relative normalness, even though Spencer still saves him seats. He’s just much pissier about it, like making Ryan sit a solid two feet away from him is such a hardship, and that’s something Brendon can deal with.

He no longer offers his hot chocolate, but when Brendon steals it – he’s had a taste, he can’t go back to not knowing! – Spencer just gives him narrow glowers, and lets Brendon sprinkle in a few marshmallows without a word.

There’s still the occasional mysterious eye-twinkle, the unexpected flash of happiness on Spencer’s face, but Brendon’s going to keep that, going to keep that to himself, doesn’t want to ruin it, because that more than occasionally makes Brendon’s day.

*

Brendon wakes up sick to his stomach, and he crawls out into the front lounge and spreads out on the floor, wishing for fresh air, the hum of the moving bus vibrating against his back.

They’ll be at another venue by morning, and Brendon’s tired, so tired he’s seeing gray, the dim-darkness of the lounge fuzzy, collecting into a headache just between his eyes.

He feels something touch his ankle, but he’s so worn out he hardly twitches, just flicks his gaze down to find Spencer hovering over him on his hands and knees.

“Hey,” Spencer says, soft.

Brendon makes a noise, not quite a word.

“Hey,” Spencer says again, moving up to straddle his waist, frowning down at him. He pushes Brendon’s hair off his sweaty forehead, palm against his cheek. “You’re warm.”

“Feel bad,” Brendon manages, turning his face into Spencer’s hand, rubbing his nose along his thumb.

“All right. All right, back to bed.” Spencer gets to his feet, bends down to tug at Brendon’s arms, tucks one hand around his back, flat against his spine and sliding lower as Brendon follows his urging up.

Brendon sways a little, dizzy.

“Whoa,” Spencer says, hefting him up against his side, and then Brendon’s pressed into a bunk, and considering he didn’t have to climb anywhere, he figures it’s Spencer’s.

He remembers water, glass slick with cool sweat. He remembers Spencer, blurry at the edge of the bed, shaking a few pills out into his hand. He doesn’t remember much else.

*

Brendon’s a baby when he’s sick, he totally is. He likes to be waited on, coddled, but he’s still a professional, so he plays their show, hopped up on Dayquil and ibuprofen, and then he lets Jon practically carry him off stage.

“I love you, Jon Walker,” he says with deep meaning, because he loves Jon so much right now he’s floating. “Hold me forever.”

He’s sort of hoarse, too, and he just wants to sleep for years and years and years. He collapses onto the small sofa in the dressing room, watches idly as Ryan strips his shirt off, walks into the bathroom, and then the next thing he knows Spencer’s shaking him awake.

“Brendon, shower,” he says. “Let’s go.”

“Spencer,” Brendon groans. “Spencer, I’m dying.”

“You’ve got a bug,” Spencer says dryly.

He pulls Brendon upright, makes him stand, and Spencer is mean, so mean, because all Brendon wants to do is go to bed, seriously, his head hurts so much.

The bathroom lights are harsh, and Brendon winces, buries his face in Spencer’s neck, and Spencer tugs at the back of his shirt, pulls the ends out of his pants, and Brendon isn’t going to cooperate, he really isn’t – mean – so it takes a while for Spencer to wriggle his fingers between them to find all the buttons, maneuver his arms out of his sleeves, and if Brendon was actually, you know, still alive, he might’ve found it kind of arousing.

“You could help a little,” Spencer says.

Brendon sniffles. “You want me clean, you get to shower me,” he says, and Spencer sort of makes a choked sound in the back of his throat.

“Uh. I think you can handle that part yourself,” Spencer says.

“Oh, really?” He tilts his head back, glances up at Spencer.

Spencer arches an eyebrow, then pushes him down on the closed toilet seat, hunches down to unlace his shoes, tug them off, and Brendon must’ve blinked or something, because he’s suddenly standing completely naked. Wow. Spencer has skills.

“In,” Spencer says, frowning. He has the water running already, and Brendon blinks at him, stays still where he’s holding onto the towel rack, since he’s sort of afraid he’ll fall if he lets go.

“I’ll fall,” Brendon says.

Spencer rolls his eyes. “Get in. I’ll make sure you don’t fall,” he says, strangely earnest, and, okay, that’s a little weird, Spencer being nice among all his meanness.

He’s taking care of Brendon, and that’s probably important, it is, except Brendon’s head hurts and he can’t think straight and he’s mainly just relieved that Spencer isn’t going to leave him alone.

*

The only thing he can do, Brendon decides, since the whole Spencer situation is getting wildly out of control – Spencer is so hot, seriously, oh my god, Brendon wants to jump him every second of the day - is to fall in love with someone else. This is a great plan. It really is.

The obvious choice for his new love interest, of course, is Patrick.

Patrick is adorable and tiny and has this great mouth – as does Brendon! They’re made for each other! – and he’s super nice when he’s not busy being angry beyond all reason.

The problem, when Brendon puts his new plan to action somewhere in Texas, is that Patrick likes to spend hours – literally hours – on his laptop with his headphones on. So instead of having quality time with Patrick, Brendon ends up playing Guitar Hero with Andy and his friends, and by the time Patrick’s done whatever the hell he’s doing, Pete’s there, and they’re busy doing PeteandPatrick things and Brendon somehow finds himself on the dog bus with Joe and Dirty, and Brendon is not actually scared of Ryan, he totally isn’t, except maybe the pot is making him a little paranoid.

*

Ryan drops down on the couch next to Brendon, and Brendon is mostly not high anymore – and he’s pretty sure he’s never going to be high again, because he thought he’d be, like, hungry and giggly or something, but mainly it just made him twitch and imagine horrible, horrible deaths at the hands of one Ryan Ross, Evil Undead Puppetmaster – but he’s glad for the glare filtering through the bus windows and the totally reasonable accessory of sunglasses on his face.

“Pete wants you to leave Patrick alone,” Ryan says, and that’s kind of uncalled for.

Brendon hadn’t had a chance to enact his plan, to really tempt Patrick into any grand love affair. He might’ve spilled the beans to Joe and Dirty, though. This might be a preemptive Wentz attack.

“Fine,” Brendon says. “I’m never going to find anyone as good for me as Patrick, though.”

“A tragedy,” Ryan deadpans. It isn’t really any more inflected than normal for Ryan, but Brendon thinks he detects a hint of pissed-off in his monotone.

*

Brendon starts to get suspicious when Jon corners him and says, “Whatever you did to Spencer, fix it,” because Brendon didn’t do anything to Spencer.

He’d been totally normal with Spencer, honestly. He’d even stopped stealing his hot chocolate. When Spencer had tossed him a bitchy look the night before and pulled his feet back to make room for him on the couch, Brendon had manfully declined, letting Spence stretch out while they watched Mallrats for the fifty thousandth time.

“I didn’t do anything to Spencer,” Brendon says.

Jon flicks the end of his nose. “Seriously, no joke, I will school your ass,” he says, and Brendon believes it, because Spencer’s always sort of been Jon’s favorite, even though Brendon still has no idea what he did or how to go about making it better.

So Brendon’s suspicious. He’s not exactly sure what he’s suspicious of, but everyone’s acting really weird.

Brendon breaks out his Sidekick, texts Haley, youd think i ate someones baby

She sends back, what? and then directly after, Spence is moping

Brendon scowls, shoots off, not my fault!1!!

hold a sec, Haley writes, and Brendon taps his toes and leans back and stares at the bus ceiling for about twelve hundred minutes before his phone buzzes again.

omg brendon, Haley texts. oh my god u r so dum

Haley’s usually pretty meticulous about spelling things out. Brendon thinks maybe the shorthand means she’s really mad at him.

pleas tell me u didnt dump spence i will killu

Brendon stares at the text message for a few minutes, turns the Sidekick upside-down, sideways, brings it really close to eyes so they almost cross, but it still says the same thing. Huh.

Contrary to popular belief, Brendon is not actually dumb. He types, I didn’t, pressing the buttons slow and precise, then snaps it shut and goes off to find Spencer.

*

Spencer is not on their bus. Spencer isn’t on either Fall Out Boy bus, and he isn’t on The Academy Is… bus, and Brendon doesn’t know if he’s on the Cobra Starship bus or not, but he’s not going to look there. Gabe kind of freaks him out.

Finally, finally, though, he finds him sprawled out on his back on the venue lawn, hands folded underneath his head, eyes closed. His jeans are low and his t-shirt’s ridden up a little and the first thing that pops into Brendon’s mind is worry that that strip of pale skin’ll get burned if he’s not careful, and that Brendon would totally be okay with rubbing aloe on him later.

Brendon is occasionally smart – very rarely, okay, but with the important stuff he totally is - and he sits down and crosses his legs and nudges Spencer’s hip with his knee. “When did you and Haley break up?” he asks.

Spencer cracks an eye open. He sort of shrugs. “A while ago.”

Brendon nods, right. A while ago. This whole fiasco is totally not his fault. Spencer can be a closed-mouth bitch sometimes, and Brendon never claimed to be very observant.

“Okay,” Brendon says, fiddling with the hem of Spencer’s shirt, knuckles grazing his belly, and Spencer sucks in a breath, holds it, and Brendon’s gaze travels up his chest, catches at Spencer’s mouth, his lower lip tucked under his teeth.

“It is possible,” Brendon says very slowly, “that I’m ridiculously in love with you.”

A corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches. “Possible?”

“In theory. All evidence suggests.” He slips his palm up, keeps it light against Spencer’s heart, thumb rubbing his sternum through the thin, soft material. “I’d like to get some hands-on practice in before, you know, committing to a definite.” He smiles, because duh, like he isn’t in love, but Spencer deserves a little wiggle room here, and Brendon doesn’t want to scare him off. Brendon can be overly enthusiastic about some things, he knows. He’s worn the label SPAZ once or twice or twenty times.

“Good,” Spencer says.

“Good?”

Spencer beams. He fucking beams, wow, and Brendon’s seen that before, has even had it aimed at him on occasion, but it never fails to make him sort of breathless and lightheaded and tingly.

Brendon’s heart is speed-beating, racing to make up for his complete inability to suck in air and he lays down, snuggles into Spencer’s side before he can totally pass out from sheer glee – Spencer would never let him live it down if it did, no way, and Brendon can just imagine all the truly hilarious fake fainting Jon and Ryan would do – and makes himself breathe, in, out, fingers clenching in the collar of Spencer’s shirt.

Spencer sighs, and it might have been a laugh-sigh, but he curls an arm around Brendon’s shoulders, turns his face into Brendon’s hair, and Brendon thinks he can feel him still smiling.

Brendon is sort of unbelievably happy, right then. He’s pretty sure Spencer is, too.

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