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Oct. 9th, 2008 05:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
why_me_why_notTitle: Little Spencer Lost
Fandom/Pairing Bandom (patd), Brendon/Spencer
Rating/Word Count: Adult, ~7300 words
Disclaimer: Fiction, all made up for my own amusement. I know nothing of the boys themselves and mean no harm or disrespect. If you got here by googling your name or the name of someone you know, please hit the back button.
Summary: Spencer remembers his mom. He remembers Ryan. He even remembers Pete Wentz – not on a personal basis, but he knows who he is. But Brendon… Spencer has no fucking clue who Brendon is.
A/N: This would never have been finished without the help/handholding from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
irisgirl12000, reallythateasy, wearethestars, and nasus221. Oh, and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
notthequiettype. Any mistakes or glaring instances of illogical thinking are completely mine. Feedback appreciated. <3
Brendon understands Spencer is upset, but after two days of voicemail and unanswered texts, he calls Ryan and growls, “Tell Spence to answer the damn phone.”
Ryan has no idea where Spencer is either, and Brendon starts to panic.
Three days later, they’re still Spencer-less and Brendon has talked to enough detectives to determine he hates them more than teen magazine interviewers. They keep asking him the same stupid questions over and over. They should realize that if he knew where Spencer is or where he would go, he wouldn’t be lost. And isn’t it their job to be out there trying to find Spencer, not harassing Brendon?
Brendon drives around Vegas, aimlessly, just like he has for several hours every day. He keeps hoping Spencer will randomly appear in front of his car or another feat of movie-like magic. He wonders if maybe they need to hang flyers or something, like Spencer’s a missing puppy. “Lost: young drummer with seductive hips and a killer smile. If found, please return to Panic at the Disco.”
Brendon’s seriously thinking about handcuffing the four of them together once they get Spencer back.
If they get Spencer back.
Brendon isn’t all that surprised when he finds himself in the driveway of Spencer’s parents’ house. One of the girls is sitting on the porch, watching him as he finally opens the door. He doesn’t hesitate as he crosses the yard and wraps her in a hug. He needs the touch, the tangible reminder that even though this is real, he’s not alone.
Mrs. Smith greets him with another hug – Brendon’s believed for a while that Spencer gives the best hugs, and now he realizes it’s because he got a lot of practice – and asks him to stay for dinner. It’s quiet at the table, and Brendon wonders if he’s intruding, interrupting. He wonders if they were pretending things were normal, that there was nothing to worry about and Spencer wasn’t actually missing. His presence has to make it harder to pretend that Spencer is just out on tour.
He feels guilty about it, and he tries to excuse himself after he helps clear the table and load the dishwasher, but Mrs. Smith insists that he stay. She pulls out some old photo albums and he settles on the couch between her and Crystal and listens to stories about young Spencer, things that’ll be awesome to tease Spence about later.
It’s getting late when Mrs. Smith offers to make up the guest room for him, ignoring his token protests. He sends Shane a text so he won’t worry and spends a couple hours lying in the guest bed, staring at the ceiling. He’s spent more than one night in this house, here in this bed, so it shouldn’t feel as strange as it does. But he doesn’t have Jon on the other side of the bed, hogging the covers and kicking Brendon in his sleep (before they had Jon, it was Brent, who snored but slept like the dead and was always pissy in the morning if Brendon hadn’t stayed on his side of the bed), and he doesn’t have Ryan and Spencer down the hall in Spencer’s bed, so it’s not the same thing at all.
Brendon tiptoes downstairs for a glass of water and on the way back stops just outside Spencer’s bedroom. He opens the door quietly and slips inside, doesn’t bother turning on a light as he crawls into the bed. The sheets are cool and crisp and smell like fabric softener, same as the guest bed, but it feels like Spencer and that’s enough to make Brendon feel a little better. He’s asleep almost as soon as his eyes slide shut.
Brendon gets up before anyone else the next morning, remakes Spencer’s bed, and sneaks back to the guest room. He’s just finished making that bed as well when Mrs. Smith knocks on the door. “Brendon?”
Brendon puts on a fake smile before he opens the door. “Morning!”
Mrs. Smith smiles and ruffles his hair, like he’s still seventeen and not taller than her. “We’re about to head off to work; you’re welcome to stay.”
Brendon appreciates the sentiment, leans down for a hug and kisses her cheek. “Thank you. I’m going to Ryan’s, I think.”
“Okay. Dinner’s at 6:30. Call me on my cell if you need anything.”
Brendon spends the morning at Ryan’s, half-heartedly playing Guitar Hero with Jon and listening to Ryan relate the latest internet gossip. He knows they should be working on the new songs – that’s why Jon’s here in Vegas, after all – but it just feels wrong without Spencer, and Brendon’s glad no one suggests it. After lunch, he ends up shopping with Keltie, and he fully intends to go home afterwards. When they’re passing William and Sonoma, though, the sales girl happens to catch his attention with free cookies – which are warm and delicious, and chocolate chips are never a bad thing – and lures him to watch a demonstration of some silly silicone oven mitts that are guaranteed not to transmit heat to the wearer’s hands. Brendon’s a little enthralled; his not-so-secret love of all kitchen gadgetry that evolves from late night infomercials is a weakness. He’s thinking of Spencer’s mom, how many times he’s sat in her kitchen watching her cook, complaining about burning her hands even through the pot holders (she’s still got the ones the girls made as a craft thing in scouts, and they’re awesome, and Brendon loves that she uses them just because the girls made them but still. Not the sturdiest things ever.), so he buys a set and decides to take them over that evening.
After dinner, there’s board games and brownies, and Brendon starts the night in the guest room again, even though he ends up in Spencer’s bed once more.
The following day, he doesn’t bother making an excuse to go over, just shows up on the Smiths’ porch with a loaf of French bread to go with the lasagna he knows Mrs. Smith is making. Tuesday night is apparently movie and popcorn night at the Smith house, so after they watch Juno – it’s Jackie’s night to pick, and Brendon pointedly doesn’t think about him and Spencer and their movie date with the twins when it was in the theaters – Mrs. Smith pulls him aside.
“I know you’ve been sleeping in Spencer’s room…”
“I’m sorry, I—“
“No, no, it’s fine. I just don’t see a reason for you to sneak back into the guest room or to make up both beds, so I’m just letting you know it’s okay. I get it.”
Brendon smiles at her, a little relieved that she doesn’t seem upset, doesn’t ask him to stop. The only time he feels even partially at peace lately is when he’s in Spencer’s bed.
Late Friday night, the house phone rings and wakes everyone up. Brendon hesitates in the hallway outside Spencer’s bedroom, blinking sleepily, until the door across the hall opens and Crystal and Jackie drag him with them to their parent’s room. The three of them huddle in the doorway (he suddenly misses his sisters something fierce, tells himself he’s going to call in the morning to tell them he loves them), holding their breath as they try to decipher the conversation from just hearing Mr. Smith’s side.
Mr. Smith hangs up the phone and turns to hug his wife, whispering something to her before looking at Brendon and the girls. “He’s okay, Spencer’s okay. There was a car accident, and he was injured, but he’s going to be fine.”
Brendon hugs the twins closer to him. “Where… where is he? Can we go get him?”
“He’s in California City. Your mother and I are going to go get him.”
“Can’t we all go?” Crystal asks.
“No, they said he’s a bit confused; we don’t want to overwhelm him. Besides, I need someone here in the morning because we have someone coming to do an estimate on the roof.”
Brendon nods. He can totally do this, wait here with the girls and meet with the roofers and pretend to be a mature, responsible adult while they go to bring Spencer home.
***
Spencer stumbles up the front steps between his parents, and Brendon somehow finds the restraint to not jump him until he’s in the house. As soon as the front door is shut, though, he races across the room and throws his arms around Spencer.
“Oh my fucking hell, Spencer Smith, if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’m going to have Zack put you on a leash!”
It takes him a minute to realize that Spencer isn’t saying anything, isn’t hugging him back, is standing perfectly still in Brendon’s embrace.
“Spence, what?” Brendon pulls away, hands on Spencer’s shoulders. Spencer looks freaked out, a little scared even.
“I’m sorry – who are you?”
***
Brendon is pacing in the backyard, wishing Ryan would hurry the fuck up. He’s a little freaked out. Okay, maybe more than a little. He can see Spencer sitting at the kitchen table, talking to his mom while she cooks. Spencer remembers his mom. He remembers Ryan. He even remembers Pete Wentz – not on a personal basis, but he knows who he is. But Brendon…
Spencer has no fucking clue who Brendon is.
Brendon almost wants to cry.
He hears Jon before he sees them, the low rumble of his laugh as he says something to the girls. It’s okay to laugh now that Spencer’s back, he’s safe, right?
Brendon runs up the stairs and through the screen door, not caring if it slams even though he always tries to be courteous and respectful in Mrs. Smith’s house. He heads straight for Jon, catching him in a hug as he comes into the kitchen behind Ryan.
He wants to protect Jon, to keep him from doing what Brendon did and feeling a tense Spencer in his arms, but mostly because he needs to be held by someone who knows him. Spencer gives the best hugs, but Jon is a close second.
Brendon is not going to cry, really, but he’s shaking – he can feel it – and Jon tightens his hold on Brendon in response.
“It’s okay, Brendon,” Jon whispers. “We’re all here, Zack’s on his way, everything’s fine now. “
If he only knew how very not okay things are, he wouldn’t be saying that.
Brendon is vaguely aware of Spencer and Ryan talking behind him, but none of the words register until he hears Ryan’s voice is angry.
“Not fucking funny, Spencer!”
Jon pulls away from Brendon, and Brendon can see the concern and confusion in his eyes. “Guys, what…?”
Spencer looks at Jon, gives him an anxious half-smile. “Jon, right? I seem to be missing a few years from my memory, but I hear you’re awesome.”
***
Brendon excuses himself, giving Jon a fake smile, and slips upstairs to Spencer’s room. He’s just finished stuffing his clothes into his backpack when Spencer walks in.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yeah, I need to get home before Shane decides to rent out my room or something.”
Spencer looks around the room. “You’ve been staying here?”
Brendon shrugs. “Just the last couple of days. I was worried; being here made me feel close to you.” It sounds stupid even as he says it, but it’s the truth.
“Why here? Why not my house?” They had talked about Spencer’s house over dinner when Ryan brought up the fact he had taken Spencer’s dogs to his own house.
Brendon doesn’t quite know how to answer Spencer’s question though. There’s too much Haley there is pretty much the truth, but he doesn’t want to mention Haley because Spencer doesn’t remember her either and that’s a hurt Brendon doesn’t want to give back to him. He can’t think of something that doesn’t sound sillier, so he says, “My cell number is written on the phone tree on the fridge. Call me if you need anything.” He starts to walk past Spencer, but stops abruptly and hugs him instead.
Spencer’s hugging him back this time, the touch tentative but there, and Brendon leans into it a little more than he probably should.
“I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” Spencer’s voice is low and rushed.
Brendon laughs, trying not to let it turn into a sob. “Fuck you, Spence, don’t apologize for that! You’re safe, you’re here, and that’s all that matters. Besides, this just means I get to make you fall in love with me all over again.”
***
Brendon hears Dylan barking as he lets himself in the house. “Hey, Dylan, did you miss me?” He kneels down to love on the dog before wandering into the living room.
“Hey, man, do I know you?”
“So very not funny, Shane.” Brendon drops his bag on the floor and kicks off his shoes. He tells Shane about Spencer, trying not to show how upset he is, but Shane knows him well enough to know what he’s trying to hide. He pulls Brendon down on the couch to curl up beside him and turns on a rerun of That 70s Show.
They watch for a while until Shane starts to snore. Brendon elbows him in the ribs and drags himself off the couch. Shane blinks at him sleepily and stumbles his way to his bedroom. Brendon cuts off the television and makes his way to his own bedroom, not bothering to turn on any lights. He strips down to his boxers and crawls under the covers, stretching out across the bed.
He hasn’t been sleeping well since Spencer went missing, obviously, and it’s catching up to him. He’s fucking exhausted, feels like he could sleep for a week, but his mind is still going, still on Spencer and the fact that he’s okay but not. What if Spencer doesn’t get his memory back? They’ve only got three weeks left before they’re due back on tour. There’s just no possible way they can do this with Spencer missing the last few years of his memory.
Even more distressing is what will happen if Spencer doesn’t remember him.
Brendon wishes he could talk to someone about it, but Ryan would get all defensive like Brendon’s attacking Spencer, even though he totally wouldn’t be. Jon is at Ryan’s, so talking to him would mean Ryan would be part of the conversation anyway.
Brendon would normally call Spencer, but calling Spencer to talk about Spencer would be silly. Besides, Spencer’s phone was lost or crushed or something when the car hit that tree (Brendon could really, truly do without the visual of that, especially since none of them, including Spencer, know what happened before that).
He could call Pete or Patrick – they’re both in the limited circle of people who know what’s going on – but Fall Out Boy is in the studio this week and Brendon knows how stressful that can be. He doesn’t want to add his own drama to that.
He dials a number, lingers over the buttons for a minute before pressing send.
“Haley?”
***
Brendon’s napping on the couch with Dylan on his stomach when his phone rings. “’Lo?”
“Brendon?”
“Hmmm?” Brendon mumbles as he stretches a bit.
“Were you asleep in the middle of the day? Lazy!”
“I’m a fucking rockstar, Spencer Smith, I can take naps any time I want.” Okay, so Brendon actually is being lazy, but he’s entitled. It’d just be so much easier to get away with if Spencer hadn’t gotten a new cell phone, but Brendon can’t complain about waking up to Spencer’s voice, so.
“Whatever, rockstar. You have plans this afternoon?”
“Napping some more, maybe doing a load of laundry. I should probably eat sometime. Why, what’s up?”
“I’m bored. You should come pick me up. There’s chocolate cake; mom saved a piece for you.”
“Tempting me with sweets, now I know you don’t have your memory back yet,” Brendon teases.
Spencer is quiet and Brendon feels slightly guilty.
“Spence? I’ll be there in like half an hour, and I hope you’re ready to put up with a spazzy Brendon all afternoon because I want a double slice of that cake.”
***
“Why do we have separate houses?”
Brendon is half asleep with his head in Spencer’s lap. He glances up, but Spencer’s eyes are focused on the television. “Uh, why wouldn’t we? We live together a good portion of the time on a fucking tour bus; when we come home, it’s nice to have a little space.” He sits up and shifts around until he’s facing Spencer. “Not that I don’t love you – all of you – but… yeah, it’s kinda hard to explain since you don’t remember life on tour.”
“So.” Spencer draws out the word, like he’s trying to buy himself a few extra seconds to figure out what he’s going to say. “The two of us, that’s not a serious thing?”
Brendon must look as confused as he suddenly feels, because Spencer continues, “I told you I’ve been having flashes of memories and stuff, right? Like being on stage, and the day Ryan got Hobo, and Zack telling us he was adding a no-touching rule to the meet-and-greets, and being molested – apparently consensually – by some guy twice my size who seemed to like flashing up some retarded hand signal.”
Brendon laughs and throws his fangs up. “That’s Gabe; he’s from Cobra Starship.”
“And I let him molest me?”
Brendon shrugs. “He molests everyone. He’s pretty touchy-feely. The whole label can be; it’s like this big, incestuous circle of inappropriate touching. It’s awesome.”
“Speaking of inappropriate touching,” Spencer clears his throat, “I’ve been having memory flashes of you. Of us.”
“Of us? Touching inappropriately? You mean like how I like to make you hold my hand when we’re going through the airport, or how my favorite place to sit is your lap, or how the four of us sometimes sleep in a big pile of cuddly awesomeness? ‘Cause I gotta say, I’ve really missed that.”
“No, Brendon.” Spencer is starting to sound frustrated and Brendon isn’t entirely sure why. “I mean you and me and sex. Is it just a fuck-buddy type of arrangement or something more? Because what I can remember was hot – really fucking hot – and if it’s just sex I can probably deal with that, okay, but you slept in my bed at my mom’s house when I was missing, and that kinda makes me think it’s something more.”
Brendon stares at Spencer, speechless (which seriously never happens, but Brendon is fucking gobsmacked by what Spencer just said). He’s still trying to convince his brain and his tongue to work together to spill out some words – a what the fuck? would be good right about now – when he’s saved by Shane and Regan coming in the front door.
“Hey!” Brendon greets them, relieved. He stands up and takes the grocery bags from Regan’s hands. “Did you get anything good? Because it’s totally your night to cook and Spencer and I are starving.”
Regan laughs and takes Brendon’s recently-vacated spot on the couch, asking Spencer about something dinnery, but Brendon really can’t tell what’s being said because he’s focused on getting out of the room. He drops the bags on the kitchen counter and tells Shane he has to make a phone call before slipping away to his bedroom.
Ryan answers on the third ring.
“Oh my god, Ryan, you have to help me!”
Ryan sounds concerned whereas he’d normally be making a joke, picking on Brendon. “Is Spencer okay?”
“Yeah, if you consider it okay that he remembers us having sex!”
“You and I have never had sex.”
“No! Me and Spencer!”
“Wait, you had sex with Spencer?”
“NO!”
“What the hell is going on, Brendon?”
“I don’t fucking know, okay? He just – he said he remembers us having really hot sex, and he wanted to know if it was just sex or if we were serious, and what the fuck, man?”
There is silence on the other end of the line, and that’s really, really not helping Brendon keep from freaking out.
“Jon and I are coming over,” Ryan finally says. Brendon’s never been so anxious to see Ryan in his life.
***
Brendon keeps trying to steal cookie dough out of the bowl when Spencer is being all domestic and baking, even though Spencer smacks the back of his hand with a spoon. Spencer pretends to be annoyed but Brendon knows he’s really not. Besides, he has to wrestle Brendon away from the bowl, which totally gives Brendon an excuse for contact, now that Brendon is trying to take Ryan’s rant to heart, “trying to respect your personal boundaries, Spencer Smith!”
Brendon’s laughing too hard to make it convincing, especially since it’s only Spencer’s personal space he seems to be trying to respect. The truth is, he’s a little scared of what exactly Spencer thinks the two of them did, since he never had sex with Spencer. He knows he’d remember it if he had. Spencer is kinda amazing; there’s no way sex with him is anything less than unforgettable.
Brendon feels a little guilty that he’s been avoiding the subject since Spencer brought it up, and that he’s made sure the two of them aren’t alone together, but he still hasn’t worked out how to handle this situation. He contemplates “accidentally” hitting Spencer in the head with something – maybe it’ll jog his memory back into place. Then he catches sight of Spencer watching him, the way his eyes darken as they focus on the way Brendon licks the cookie dough off his fingers, and Brendon decides he’s selfish enough to keep this Spencer for a little while longer, even if it is a tease.
***
Spencer hangs back as Brendon charms the barista into giving them free coffees.
“Brendon,” Spencer says when Brendon hands him his cup, “you do realize that we can pay for our coffee, right?”
“I did pay for it,” Brendon insisted. “With my smile!”
Spencer rolls his eyes and throws an arm over Brendon’s shoulder. “C’mon, rockstar, let’s get out of here before someone recognizes you.”
“Lemme have a taste of yours,” Brendon says as they cross the parking lot.
Spencer shakes his head; Brendon has his own coffee. He tries – not so successfully – to avoid Brendon’s puppy dog eyes. “Fine,” Spencer sighs, “here.” He resigns himself to handing over his cup of coffee when they reach Brendon’s car.
Brendon tries to hide his smirk behind the cup; he didn’t really want the coffee, he just wanted Spencer to give it to him. He hands Spencer his coffee back and holds out his own cup. “Wanna taste mine?”
Spencer grins but ignores the offered cup in favor of licking the taste straight from Brendon’s lips.
Brendon kisses back out of instinct at first, surprised, but melts into Spencer a little as he pushes him against the car, fumbling to set his cup on the roof before he drops it. He knows it’s wrong, that it’s Spencer but it’s not Spencer. But it’s Spencer’s body beneath his fingers, Spencer’s hands sliding under his shirt, Spencer’s voice whispering his name like a secret plea. And so even though he knows it’s wrong, that’s not enough to make him stop.
A car alarm is, though, and Brendon pulls back, looking across the parking lot anxiously. Zack is totally going to kill the two of them if someone got a picture of that. If Spencer doesn’t kill him first for stopping.
Spencer’s smiling at him, though, when Brendon turns back to face him.
“I guess being famous isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, since I can’t make out with my boyfriend in public.”
Brendon grins at him and unlocks the car door. “Home.” He’ll let the boyfriend remark slide for now.
They trade easy banter on the way back to the house, Spencer’s hand on Brendon’s thigh the entire time. Spencer apparently didn’t lose his ability to back-seat drive when he lost his memory and his drivers’ license, but it doesn’t bother Brendon as much as it would have in the past.
Brendon notices Shane’s car is gone when he pulls into the driveway, and he sends up a brief, silent bit of thanks to whatever Fate arranged that. He knows that what he’s about to do is wrong, thankyouverymuch; he doesn’t need Shane’s conscience as well as his own.
He leads Spencer to his bedroom, ignoring Dylan’s indignant barks at being shut out of it as he locks the door behind the two of them. He knows it won’t make much difference if Shane does come home – he can totally hear Shane and Regan – but it affords them a little bit of privacy.
As soon as Brendon turns around, Spencer has him pressed against the wall, one hand tangling in his hair and the other bunching up his t-shirt. Spencer's fingers are hot where they brush against Brendon's skin, and even though there is an underlying urgency to the way Spencer is kissing him, it's nowhere near as rushed and frantic as Brendon is feeling. He wants this, wants Spencer – if he's being honest, he's wanted Spencer for a long while – but he's afraid that Spencer is going to suddenly get his memory back, realize Brendon – what he thinks he has with Brendon – is a lie.
Brendon breaks the kiss and nudges Spencer back – as awesome as this is, there's not really a reason why they're not using the bed. Brendon toes off his sneakers and kicks them across the room, rolling his eyes when Spencer sits down on the edge of the bed to untie his shoes and place them just under the bed. Spencer and his fucking shoes.
“I hope you don’t plan on being that meticulous with the rest of your clothes,” Brendon says, stripping off his shirt.
“Not this time.” Spencer reaches out and tucks his fingers into Brendon’s waistband to pull him closer to the bed. He presses a kiss against Brendon’s stomach as he pops the button on Brendon’s jeans.
Brendon slides his fingers through Spencer’s hair, tugging lightly. “Quit teasing and get naked.”
Spencer laughs – “Impatient little thing, aren’t you?” – but pulls his shirt over his head, lays back on the bed to wriggle out of his own pants and underwear. He props himself up on his elbows, looking incredibly confident for someone who doesn’t remember having sex, as he watches Brendon expectantly.
Brendon wonders exactly what Spencer’s seen in the memories he thinks are him and Brendon. It’s hard to live up to an expectation that he’s really not sure of. He also doesn’t know how far this is going to go, how far Spencer wants to take it – Brendon’s greedy; he’ll take whatever Spencer is offering – but he’s trying to remember whether or not there are condoms in the nightstand. Casual sex has never really been his thing, all evidence and rumor to the contrary, and it’s been a while since he got off with anyone other than himself.
“Change your mind?” Spencer’s voice is calm, steady, but the uncertainty in his eyes, the way he hesitates before reaching for Brendon again, tells him a different story.
“Not on your life.” Brendon leans over to kiss Spencer, running his hand over Spencer’s stomach before pulling away. “I just want to make sure I don’t have to go steal condoms from Shane’s stash before I get naked.” He rummages through the nightstand drawer, coming up with condoms and lube in quick succession. He drops them on the bed and shoots Spencer a triumphant look.
Spencer’s moved so he’s stretched out in the middle of the bed – Brendon really has to stop and just appreciate the view for a moment because he never never expected to have Spencer Smith in his bed like this – and bites his lip a little nervously. “So we’re really doing this?”
Brendon shucks his jeans and boxers, crawling up onto the bed, over Spencer. “What, change your mind?”
Spencer’s entire face lights up with his smile as he pulls Brendon close to him. “Not on your life.”
Brendon doesn’t have time to laugh at the reversal of their conversation, not with Spencer kissing him and all that naked skin pressed against him. Spencer rolls them over, and even though Brendon feels amazing -- it’s Spencer and okay, maybe Brendon’s a little easy for him, but he’s still fucking awesome at this – he thinks it’s not fair that Spencer gets to take his time, to explore Brendon’s body with his eyes, hands, tongue. Brendon can’t really ask for the same because, as far as Spencer knows, they’ve done this before, multiple times. And yeah, Brendon’s seen Spencer naked but never like this, flushed and sweaty and his, and he’s never been allowed to touch, to taste, to have.
Brendon’s convinced Spencer is a sex superhero. His secret power is knowing exactly where to touch Brendon, how to make Brendon moan with just a swipe of his tongue, the way to get Brendon to arch up off the bed with just the right twist of his fingers inside him.
“Spence, please, fuck.” Brendon knows he’s being demanding and whiny, but he fucking wants and Spencer’s fingers aren’t enough.
Spencer pulls his fingers out and reaches up to grab the condom from beside Brendon’s head, stopping for a sloppy kiss as he fumbles with the wrapper. “Yeah, Brendon, yeah.” Spencer’s shaking a little as he rolls on the condom, settles himself between Brendon’s legs. Brendon can relate; he’s got the same energy thrumming through his veins, like his body is going to turn itself inside out just to get closer to Spencer.
Brendon can’t help the slight whimper that escapes when Spencer pushes in – it’s been a while since he’s been fucked, and that first taste of pleasurepainfullness always takes his breath away – and bites his lip, hoping Spencer didn’t catch it. But Spencer goes still and tense, starts to pull away, and Brendon wraps his leg around Spencer’s back, holding him in place.
Spencer raises his hand to cup Brendon’s cheek, swipes his thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it out from under Brendon’s teeth. “Hurt?”
Brendon doesn’t tell Spencer that he likes the bit of pain that dances around the edges of his pleasure, is counting on it to pull him back from the edge or he’ll be coming before Spencer even gets started. Besides, Brendon likes it a little rough.
He flicks his tongue against the pad of Spencer’s thumb. “We’re good, Spence, just give me a sec.” His voice is bordering on weak and unsteady, but he figures that’s excusable since he’s got Spencer’s cock sliding in his ass.
Spencer pulls back a little and pushes in, the glide getting smoother with each short, slow thrust. Brendon’s world is reduced to just this, just the feel of Spencer keeping him grounded and the babble of his own voice jumbling Spencer’s name with some expletives, and he really really wants to stay lost in this feeling.
Spencer, though, is wrapping his fingers around Brendon’s cock, mumbling something against Brendon’s skin, and Brendon lets the words sift through his mind. “C’mon, Brendon.” Brendon comes with Spencer’s name on his lips and keeps whispering it, sliding his hands over Spencer’s skin, hot and slick with sweat and his, until Spencer follows.
Spencer rests heavily against Brendon, breathing hard, and Brendon maybe protests tiredly when Spencer pulls away. He thinks Spencer may be laughing at him, but he’s not too bothered it, secure in the fact that whatever Spencer’s doing he can’t have gone far because he still has one hand curled around Brendon’s side. Spencer tosses the condom into the wastebasket and wipes them both off with Brendon’s discarded t-shirt (Brendon wants to glare at him for using his shirt when Spencer’s was totally closer, but decides it would take too much effort), then stretches out beside Brendon.
Brendon immediately rolls over and sprawls out mostly on top of Spencer, licking his neck.
Spencer just laughs and wraps his arms around Brendon, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
***
Brendon sings in the shower, filled with cautious glee and the knowledge that Spencer fucking Smith is asleep in his bed, naked. After, he’s surprised to find Spencer is actually dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning Brendon’s cell over and over in his hands.
“We weren’t fucking.”
Brendon stops and stares, shakes his head. He’s not sure if Spencer’s got his memory back, or if last night didn’t live up to Spencer’s false memories, or what exactly is going on.
“So we never, before last night?”
Again, Brendon shakes his head, feeling like he’s missing a huge, important piece of the conversation, wishing Spencer would look at him.
“Was it because of Haley?”
“You… do you remember Haley?”
Spencer shrugs, shakes his head. “She called, while you were in the shower. Something about her parents’ anniversary gift? I probably shouldn’t have answered it, but it was kind of automatic, you know? She asked how I am, and about my dogs. And I think she was crying. Or I made her cry, maybe? I just… I don’t want to cause problems for you, with her. I didn’t know. I mean, I’ve met Keltie, and I talked to Jon’s Cassie, but no one ever said you… I just didn’t think of it, I guess, since I keep seeing us together, but if there’s Haley…”
“Spence, wait.” Brendon sits down beside Spencer and covers Spencer’s hands with his own to stop the fidgeting. “Haley’s not mine. She’s yours. Or, she was.”
“Since when do I date girls?”
Brendon has to laugh at that, because it’s Spencer and as far as Brendon knows, he’s always dated girls. He pulls his hand away and runs it over his face, trying to figure out what to say. “When did you not date girls?” he finally asks.
“Uh. I never really dated anyone, I guess. At least, before all this. I went to a few dances with the girl that lived next door to us, Lily, and we made out a few times. But I made out with Ryan too, so. I guess I just hadn’t made up my mind yet.”
Brendon has to fight the urge to call Jon and demand his fifty bucks – he so called that – but making out with Ryan Ross isn’t the point. The point is Spencer doesn’t remember Haley, doesn’t remember the woman he’s loved for years, and Brendon isn’t sure what to say.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Spencer’s voice is deceptively soft and he’s pointedly not looking at Brendon.
“What question?”
“Was it because of Haley?”
“Spencer…” Brendon slides to the floor in front of Spencer, waits for Spencer to look at him before he continues, “You’re one of my best friends, and I love you. You know that, right? I fucking love you. And Haley made you happy. You two made each other happy. There was never… god. I wouldn’t have messed with that, couldn’t have taken that chance.”
“And if there hadn’t been Haley? Would you have taken that chance?”
Brendon sighs, wants to look away but he’s stuck watching Spencer watch him. “I think I’ve been in love with you since before I came to terms with liking boys more than girls. And I’m a little in love with Ryan and Jon, too, but it’s not the same. Definitely nowhere near the same. And you’re hot, so fucking hot, and if it were about sex then I would’ve taken the chance and not thought twice, Haley or no. But you’re more than that. You’re the one that lets me steal your blankets when it’s cold on the bus. You let me take the first shower even though it’s rightfully yours on hotel nights, and you never complain when I wake you up too early and make you watch cartoons with me. When I got sick last year, you spent three days here, cleaning up after me and acting like a mother-hen, and when we’re on the road you always share the care packages your mom sends. You sing Disney songs to me when I can’t sleep.”
“I never did that,” Spencer interrupts quickly.
Brendon laughs. “You could have! You don’t remember!”
“No, I’m pretty certain I never sang you to sleep. Other way around, maybe.”
Brendon laughs again, then turns serious. “Fuck, Spencer, you are so much more than a chance and I would never risk losing you, not when I’m content with what you already give me.”
“But what if you wouldn’t lose me? What if I want you in my life, want you to be the one I fall asleep with every night, on or off tour? I… I think I love you, Brendon.”
Brendon gives Spencer a sad smile and shakes his head. “You do love me; I’ve never doubted that. But you aren’t in love with me. Or, you weren’t before all this happened.” He sighs and stands up, turning to rummage through the closet for something to wear. “This was probably a mistake, and Ryan is going to kill me. Can we just… can we wait until you get your memory back and pick up from there?”
“But what if I don’t get those memories back?” Brendon has to strain to hear Spencer over the rustle of fabric as he gets dressed, his voice is that low. “What if I have to just start over, build new memories? Me, the Spencer that’s sitting here right now – I’m in love with you, Brendon. I mean it.”
Brendon finally chances a glance in Spencer’s direction. Spencer looks about as miserable as he feels, which is definitely not how Brendon had expected this morning to go. “I know. But we can’t.” Brendon wants to go over and push Spencer back onto the bed, crawl back under the covers with him and never leave, but he knows he can’t. He’s already made enough of a mess of things.
The two of them are just staring silently at one another when the front door slams. “Yo, Bden, Spence!”
Brendon’s a little confused, and it must show on his face.
“I called Zack to come get me,” Spencer explains, standing up.
Brendon nods, but he doesn’t get it, not at all. Spencer’s going to drop something like this on him and then walk out? Brendon doesn’t move when Spencer kisses him on the cheek before walking out to meet Zack. He’s still standing in the same spot when Zack comes into the room.
“Everything okay?”
It’s not, and Zack knows it’s not, but Brendon nods anyway and plasters on a fake smile, and Zack pretends like he believes it.
“Have fun reading to the kiddies.” He starts to walk back down the hall, but turns and hugs Brendon instead. “It’ll all work out, Bren, just wait.”
Zack doesn’t know the half of what’s going on, but Brendon wants to believe him, so he does. He hugs Zack back, tells himself that if Zack says it then it must be true (because that actually works for most things), and then finishes getting ready for Story Hour.
The kids are all excited to see him, since he missed the last two weeks. Brendon is happy to see them too, but his heart isn’t completely in the storytelling today and his exuberance is a little dimmer than usual. Still, they have a good time, and after he reads Punk Farm on Tour (and okay, maybe Brendon actually sings most of the book, but he kinda loves it and so do the kids), they make animal puppets and Brendon is left with that tired-but-happy feeling he always gets after Story Hour. He tries to brush most of the glitter off his shirt, but he knows it’s a lost cause. How more of the rainbow glitter ended up in his hair and on his clothes than on the puppets is a mystery to him. He still doesn’t know why farm animal puppetry required glitter in the first place!
He calls Zack and heads for Spencer’s place. It feels strange, driving such a familiar route and knowing that when he gets there nothing will actually be familiar at all, but he tries to push aside the knots in his stomach, tries to find the reservoir of happy he knows he has on hand.
Zack’s waiting for him on the front steps of Spencer’s house. “I’m passing Spencer-duty off to you, man. He’s all yours.”
Brendon watches as Zack climbs into his own car and drives away. What the hell? He pushes open the front door and wanders through the house, noticing how quiet things are without the dogs.
Spencer’s sitting on the patio, playing with a small box that Brendon recognizes from the jewelers. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look up when Brendon slides the door open, but his posture shifts, tenses. Brendon knows Spencer is aware of him, but doesn’t say anything, waits for Spencer to speak.
When he does, his voice is so low Brendon has to strain to hear it, and he’s looking at the ring box instead of Brendon. “I love Haley. I want her happy and would do anything to make that happen. She said… she would’ve said yes if she thought it was what I really wanted. I thought she meant the band, even though she’s always known the band comes first, even when she said it was you. I thought she meant the three of you, but she really did mean you, Brendon. Just you.
“I didn’t want to admit she was right – not because I don’t love you, or that I’m not in love with you, because I so am – but because I didn’t want to hurt her, or you, or the band.” Spencer sets the ring box on the table and glances at Brendon. “Why do you look like you’ve been rolling in fairydust?”
Brendon laughs and sits down next to Spencer. “Glitter was a big hit at Story Hour today.”
“At least you don’t look like a rubber duck this time, I guess.”
“Hey, the kids loved that!”
“I did too; that’s the problem! I come to pick you up and there you are, prancing around in a bright yellow raincoat and those hellacious rubber boots, and I couldn’t look away. That was the day after Haley… well, with the things she said and the things I was realizing, it was a lot to think about.”
Brendon suffers through the silence momentarily, watching Spencer while Spencer is studying his own hands. Finally, Brendon clears his throat. “You finished thinking about it now?”
“Yeah.” Spencer nods and looks out at the yard, at the ring box, at several other things before he settles his gaze on Brendon. “All that stuff I said this morning? Well, my memory’s back and it’s all still true. I love you, Brendon. I love you.”
Brendon grins at Spencer before pulling him in for a kiss. He knows things are far from being figured out, but Spencer has his memory back and just said he loves him. Life is looking pretty good from where Brendon’s sitting right now. “You think we should call Ryan and Jon, tell them you got your memory back?”
“Not yet.” Spencer stands up and reaches for Brendon’s hand to pull him to his feet. “I think I’d rather make some new memories with you first.”
Fandom/Pairing Bandom (patd), Brendon/Spencer
Rating/Word Count: Adult, ~7300 words
Disclaimer: Fiction, all made up for my own amusement. I know nothing of the boys themselves and mean no harm or disrespect. If you got here by googling your name or the name of someone you know, please hit the back button.
Summary: Spencer remembers his mom. He remembers Ryan. He even remembers Pete Wentz – not on a personal basis, but he knows who he is. But Brendon… Spencer has no fucking clue who Brendon is.
A/N: This would never have been finished without the help/handholding from
irisgirl12000, reallythateasy, wearethestars, and nasus221. Oh, and notthequiettype. Any mistakes or glaring instances of illogical thinking are completely mine. Feedback appreciated. <3Brendon understands Spencer is upset, but after two days of voicemail and unanswered texts, he calls Ryan and growls, “Tell Spence to answer the damn phone.”
Ryan has no idea where Spencer is either, and Brendon starts to panic.
Three days later, they’re still Spencer-less and Brendon has talked to enough detectives to determine he hates them more than teen magazine interviewers. They keep asking him the same stupid questions over and over. They should realize that if he knew where Spencer is or where he would go, he wouldn’t be lost. And isn’t it their job to be out there trying to find Spencer, not harassing Brendon?
Brendon drives around Vegas, aimlessly, just like he has for several hours every day. He keeps hoping Spencer will randomly appear in front of his car or another feat of movie-like magic. He wonders if maybe they need to hang flyers or something, like Spencer’s a missing puppy. “Lost: young drummer with seductive hips and a killer smile. If found, please return to Panic at the Disco.”
Brendon’s seriously thinking about handcuffing the four of them together once they get Spencer back.
If they get Spencer back.
Brendon isn’t all that surprised when he finds himself in the driveway of Spencer’s parents’ house. One of the girls is sitting on the porch, watching him as he finally opens the door. He doesn’t hesitate as he crosses the yard and wraps her in a hug. He needs the touch, the tangible reminder that even though this is real, he’s not alone.
Mrs. Smith greets him with another hug – Brendon’s believed for a while that Spencer gives the best hugs, and now he realizes it’s because he got a lot of practice – and asks him to stay for dinner. It’s quiet at the table, and Brendon wonders if he’s intruding, interrupting. He wonders if they were pretending things were normal, that there was nothing to worry about and Spencer wasn’t actually missing. His presence has to make it harder to pretend that Spencer is just out on tour.
He feels guilty about it, and he tries to excuse himself after he helps clear the table and load the dishwasher, but Mrs. Smith insists that he stay. She pulls out some old photo albums and he settles on the couch between her and Crystal and listens to stories about young Spencer, things that’ll be awesome to tease Spence about later.
It’s getting late when Mrs. Smith offers to make up the guest room for him, ignoring his token protests. He sends Shane a text so he won’t worry and spends a couple hours lying in the guest bed, staring at the ceiling. He’s spent more than one night in this house, here in this bed, so it shouldn’t feel as strange as it does. But he doesn’t have Jon on the other side of the bed, hogging the covers and kicking Brendon in his sleep (before they had Jon, it was Brent, who snored but slept like the dead and was always pissy in the morning if Brendon hadn’t stayed on his side of the bed), and he doesn’t have Ryan and Spencer down the hall in Spencer’s bed, so it’s not the same thing at all.
Brendon tiptoes downstairs for a glass of water and on the way back stops just outside Spencer’s bedroom. He opens the door quietly and slips inside, doesn’t bother turning on a light as he crawls into the bed. The sheets are cool and crisp and smell like fabric softener, same as the guest bed, but it feels like Spencer and that’s enough to make Brendon feel a little better. He’s asleep almost as soon as his eyes slide shut.
Brendon gets up before anyone else the next morning, remakes Spencer’s bed, and sneaks back to the guest room. He’s just finished making that bed as well when Mrs. Smith knocks on the door. “Brendon?”
Brendon puts on a fake smile before he opens the door. “Morning!”
Mrs. Smith smiles and ruffles his hair, like he’s still seventeen and not taller than her. “We’re about to head off to work; you’re welcome to stay.”
Brendon appreciates the sentiment, leans down for a hug and kisses her cheek. “Thank you. I’m going to Ryan’s, I think.”
“Okay. Dinner’s at 6:30. Call me on my cell if you need anything.”
Brendon spends the morning at Ryan’s, half-heartedly playing Guitar Hero with Jon and listening to Ryan relate the latest internet gossip. He knows they should be working on the new songs – that’s why Jon’s here in Vegas, after all – but it just feels wrong without Spencer, and Brendon’s glad no one suggests it. After lunch, he ends up shopping with Keltie, and he fully intends to go home afterwards. When they’re passing William and Sonoma, though, the sales girl happens to catch his attention with free cookies – which are warm and delicious, and chocolate chips are never a bad thing – and lures him to watch a demonstration of some silly silicone oven mitts that are guaranteed not to transmit heat to the wearer’s hands. Brendon’s a little enthralled; his not-so-secret love of all kitchen gadgetry that evolves from late night infomercials is a weakness. He’s thinking of Spencer’s mom, how many times he’s sat in her kitchen watching her cook, complaining about burning her hands even through the pot holders (she’s still got the ones the girls made as a craft thing in scouts, and they’re awesome, and Brendon loves that she uses them just because the girls made them but still. Not the sturdiest things ever.), so he buys a set and decides to take them over that evening.
After dinner, there’s board games and brownies, and Brendon starts the night in the guest room again, even though he ends up in Spencer’s bed once more.
The following day, he doesn’t bother making an excuse to go over, just shows up on the Smiths’ porch with a loaf of French bread to go with the lasagna he knows Mrs. Smith is making. Tuesday night is apparently movie and popcorn night at the Smith house, so after they watch Juno – it’s Jackie’s night to pick, and Brendon pointedly doesn’t think about him and Spencer and their movie date with the twins when it was in the theaters – Mrs. Smith pulls him aside.
“I know you’ve been sleeping in Spencer’s room…”
“I’m sorry, I—“
“No, no, it’s fine. I just don’t see a reason for you to sneak back into the guest room or to make up both beds, so I’m just letting you know it’s okay. I get it.”
Brendon smiles at her, a little relieved that she doesn’t seem upset, doesn’t ask him to stop. The only time he feels even partially at peace lately is when he’s in Spencer’s bed.
Late Friday night, the house phone rings and wakes everyone up. Brendon hesitates in the hallway outside Spencer’s bedroom, blinking sleepily, until the door across the hall opens and Crystal and Jackie drag him with them to their parent’s room. The three of them huddle in the doorway (he suddenly misses his sisters something fierce, tells himself he’s going to call in the morning to tell them he loves them), holding their breath as they try to decipher the conversation from just hearing Mr. Smith’s side.
Mr. Smith hangs up the phone and turns to hug his wife, whispering something to her before looking at Brendon and the girls. “He’s okay, Spencer’s okay. There was a car accident, and he was injured, but he’s going to be fine.”
Brendon hugs the twins closer to him. “Where… where is he? Can we go get him?”
“He’s in California City. Your mother and I are going to go get him.”
“Can’t we all go?” Crystal asks.
“No, they said he’s a bit confused; we don’t want to overwhelm him. Besides, I need someone here in the morning because we have someone coming to do an estimate on the roof.”
Brendon nods. He can totally do this, wait here with the girls and meet with the roofers and pretend to be a mature, responsible adult while they go to bring Spencer home.
Spencer stumbles up the front steps between his parents, and Brendon somehow finds the restraint to not jump him until he’s in the house. As soon as the front door is shut, though, he races across the room and throws his arms around Spencer.
“Oh my fucking hell, Spencer Smith, if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’m going to have Zack put you on a leash!”
It takes him a minute to realize that Spencer isn’t saying anything, isn’t hugging him back, is standing perfectly still in Brendon’s embrace.
“Spence, what?” Brendon pulls away, hands on Spencer’s shoulders. Spencer looks freaked out, a little scared even.
“I’m sorry – who are you?”
Brendon is pacing in the backyard, wishing Ryan would hurry the fuck up. He’s a little freaked out. Okay, maybe more than a little. He can see Spencer sitting at the kitchen table, talking to his mom while she cooks. Spencer remembers his mom. He remembers Ryan. He even remembers Pete Wentz – not on a personal basis, but he knows who he is. But Brendon…
Spencer has no fucking clue who Brendon is.
Brendon almost wants to cry.
He hears Jon before he sees them, the low rumble of his laugh as he says something to the girls. It’s okay to laugh now that Spencer’s back, he’s safe, right?
Brendon runs up the stairs and through the screen door, not caring if it slams even though he always tries to be courteous and respectful in Mrs. Smith’s house. He heads straight for Jon, catching him in a hug as he comes into the kitchen behind Ryan.
He wants to protect Jon, to keep him from doing what Brendon did and feeling a tense Spencer in his arms, but mostly because he needs to be held by someone who knows him. Spencer gives the best hugs, but Jon is a close second.
Brendon is not going to cry, really, but he’s shaking – he can feel it – and Jon tightens his hold on Brendon in response.
“It’s okay, Brendon,” Jon whispers. “We’re all here, Zack’s on his way, everything’s fine now. “
If he only knew how very not okay things are, he wouldn’t be saying that.
Brendon is vaguely aware of Spencer and Ryan talking behind him, but none of the words register until he hears Ryan’s voice is angry.
“Not fucking funny, Spencer!”
Jon pulls away from Brendon, and Brendon can see the concern and confusion in his eyes. “Guys, what…?”
Spencer looks at Jon, gives him an anxious half-smile. “Jon, right? I seem to be missing a few years from my memory, but I hear you’re awesome.”
Brendon excuses himself, giving Jon a fake smile, and slips upstairs to Spencer’s room. He’s just finished stuffing his clothes into his backpack when Spencer walks in.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yeah, I need to get home before Shane decides to rent out my room or something.”
Spencer looks around the room. “You’ve been staying here?”
Brendon shrugs. “Just the last couple of days. I was worried; being here made me feel close to you.” It sounds stupid even as he says it, but it’s the truth.
“Why here? Why not my house?” They had talked about Spencer’s house over dinner when Ryan brought up the fact he had taken Spencer’s dogs to his own house.
Brendon doesn’t quite know how to answer Spencer’s question though. There’s too much Haley there is pretty much the truth, but he doesn’t want to mention Haley because Spencer doesn’t remember her either and that’s a hurt Brendon doesn’t want to give back to him. He can’t think of something that doesn’t sound sillier, so he says, “My cell number is written on the phone tree on the fridge. Call me if you need anything.” He starts to walk past Spencer, but stops abruptly and hugs him instead.
Spencer’s hugging him back this time, the touch tentative but there, and Brendon leans into it a little more than he probably should.
“I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” Spencer’s voice is low and rushed.
Brendon laughs, trying not to let it turn into a sob. “Fuck you, Spence, don’t apologize for that! You’re safe, you’re here, and that’s all that matters. Besides, this just means I get to make you fall in love with me all over again.”
Brendon hears Dylan barking as he lets himself in the house. “Hey, Dylan, did you miss me?” He kneels down to love on the dog before wandering into the living room.
“Hey, man, do I know you?”
“So very not funny, Shane.” Brendon drops his bag on the floor and kicks off his shoes. He tells Shane about Spencer, trying not to show how upset he is, but Shane knows him well enough to know what he’s trying to hide. He pulls Brendon down on the couch to curl up beside him and turns on a rerun of That 70s Show.
They watch for a while until Shane starts to snore. Brendon elbows him in the ribs and drags himself off the couch. Shane blinks at him sleepily and stumbles his way to his bedroom. Brendon cuts off the television and makes his way to his own bedroom, not bothering to turn on any lights. He strips down to his boxers and crawls under the covers, stretching out across the bed.
He hasn’t been sleeping well since Spencer went missing, obviously, and it’s catching up to him. He’s fucking exhausted, feels like he could sleep for a week, but his mind is still going, still on Spencer and the fact that he’s okay but not. What if Spencer doesn’t get his memory back? They’ve only got three weeks left before they’re due back on tour. There’s just no possible way they can do this with Spencer missing the last few years of his memory.
Even more distressing is what will happen if Spencer doesn’t remember him.
Brendon wishes he could talk to someone about it, but Ryan would get all defensive like Brendon’s attacking Spencer, even though he totally wouldn’t be. Jon is at Ryan’s, so talking to him would mean Ryan would be part of the conversation anyway.
Brendon would normally call Spencer, but calling Spencer to talk about Spencer would be silly. Besides, Spencer’s phone was lost or crushed or something when the car hit that tree (Brendon could really, truly do without the visual of that, especially since none of them, including Spencer, know what happened before that).
He could call Pete or Patrick – they’re both in the limited circle of people who know what’s going on – but Fall Out Boy is in the studio this week and Brendon knows how stressful that can be. He doesn’t want to add his own drama to that.
He dials a number, lingers over the buttons for a minute before pressing send.
“Haley?”
Brendon’s napping on the couch with Dylan on his stomach when his phone rings. “’Lo?”
“Brendon?”
“Hmmm?” Brendon mumbles as he stretches a bit.
“Were you asleep in the middle of the day? Lazy!”
“I’m a fucking rockstar, Spencer Smith, I can take naps any time I want.” Okay, so Brendon actually is being lazy, but he’s entitled. It’d just be so much easier to get away with if Spencer hadn’t gotten a new cell phone, but Brendon can’t complain about waking up to Spencer’s voice, so.
“Whatever, rockstar. You have plans this afternoon?”
“Napping some more, maybe doing a load of laundry. I should probably eat sometime. Why, what’s up?”
“I’m bored. You should come pick me up. There’s chocolate cake; mom saved a piece for you.”
“Tempting me with sweets, now I know you don’t have your memory back yet,” Brendon teases.
Spencer is quiet and Brendon feels slightly guilty.
“Spence? I’ll be there in like half an hour, and I hope you’re ready to put up with a spazzy Brendon all afternoon because I want a double slice of that cake.”
“Why do we have separate houses?”
Brendon is half asleep with his head in Spencer’s lap. He glances up, but Spencer’s eyes are focused on the television. “Uh, why wouldn’t we? We live together a good portion of the time on a fucking tour bus; when we come home, it’s nice to have a little space.” He sits up and shifts around until he’s facing Spencer. “Not that I don’t love you – all of you – but… yeah, it’s kinda hard to explain since you don’t remember life on tour.”
“So.” Spencer draws out the word, like he’s trying to buy himself a few extra seconds to figure out what he’s going to say. “The two of us, that’s not a serious thing?”
Brendon must look as confused as he suddenly feels, because Spencer continues, “I told you I’ve been having flashes of memories and stuff, right? Like being on stage, and the day Ryan got Hobo, and Zack telling us he was adding a no-touching rule to the meet-and-greets, and being molested – apparently consensually – by some guy twice my size who seemed to like flashing up some retarded hand signal.”
Brendon laughs and throws his fangs up. “That’s Gabe; he’s from Cobra Starship.”
“And I let him molest me?”
Brendon shrugs. “He molests everyone. He’s pretty touchy-feely. The whole label can be; it’s like this big, incestuous circle of inappropriate touching. It’s awesome.”
“Speaking of inappropriate touching,” Spencer clears his throat, “I’ve been having memory flashes of you. Of us.”
“Of us? Touching inappropriately? You mean like how I like to make you hold my hand when we’re going through the airport, or how my favorite place to sit is your lap, or how the four of us sometimes sleep in a big pile of cuddly awesomeness? ‘Cause I gotta say, I’ve really missed that.”
“No, Brendon.” Spencer is starting to sound frustrated and Brendon isn’t entirely sure why. “I mean you and me and sex. Is it just a fuck-buddy type of arrangement or something more? Because what I can remember was hot – really fucking hot – and if it’s just sex I can probably deal with that, okay, but you slept in my bed at my mom’s house when I was missing, and that kinda makes me think it’s something more.”
Brendon stares at Spencer, speechless (which seriously never happens, but Brendon is fucking gobsmacked by what Spencer just said). He’s still trying to convince his brain and his tongue to work together to spill out some words – a what the fuck? would be good right about now – when he’s saved by Shane and Regan coming in the front door.
“Hey!” Brendon greets them, relieved. He stands up and takes the grocery bags from Regan’s hands. “Did you get anything good? Because it’s totally your night to cook and Spencer and I are starving.”
Regan laughs and takes Brendon’s recently-vacated spot on the couch, asking Spencer about something dinnery, but Brendon really can’t tell what’s being said because he’s focused on getting out of the room. He drops the bags on the kitchen counter and tells Shane he has to make a phone call before slipping away to his bedroom.
Ryan answers on the third ring.
“Oh my god, Ryan, you have to help me!”
Ryan sounds concerned whereas he’d normally be making a joke, picking on Brendon. “Is Spencer okay?”
“Yeah, if you consider it okay that he remembers us having sex!”
“You and I have never had sex.”
“No! Me and Spencer!”
“Wait, you had sex with Spencer?”
“NO!”
“What the hell is going on, Brendon?”
“I don’t fucking know, okay? He just – he said he remembers us having really hot sex, and he wanted to know if it was just sex or if we were serious, and what the fuck, man?”
There is silence on the other end of the line, and that’s really, really not helping Brendon keep from freaking out.
“Jon and I are coming over,” Ryan finally says. Brendon’s never been so anxious to see Ryan in his life.
Brendon keeps trying to steal cookie dough out of the bowl when Spencer is being all domestic and baking, even though Spencer smacks the back of his hand with a spoon. Spencer pretends to be annoyed but Brendon knows he’s really not. Besides, he has to wrestle Brendon away from the bowl, which totally gives Brendon an excuse for contact, now that Brendon is trying to take Ryan’s rant to heart, “trying to respect your personal boundaries, Spencer Smith!”
Brendon’s laughing too hard to make it convincing, especially since it’s only Spencer’s personal space he seems to be trying to respect. The truth is, he’s a little scared of what exactly Spencer thinks the two of them did, since he never had sex with Spencer. He knows he’d remember it if he had. Spencer is kinda amazing; there’s no way sex with him is anything less than unforgettable.
Brendon feels a little guilty that he’s been avoiding the subject since Spencer brought it up, and that he’s made sure the two of them aren’t alone together, but he still hasn’t worked out how to handle this situation. He contemplates “accidentally” hitting Spencer in the head with something – maybe it’ll jog his memory back into place. Then he catches sight of Spencer watching him, the way his eyes darken as they focus on the way Brendon licks the cookie dough off his fingers, and Brendon decides he’s selfish enough to keep this Spencer for a little while longer, even if it is a tease.
Spencer hangs back as Brendon charms the barista into giving them free coffees.
“Brendon,” Spencer says when Brendon hands him his cup, “you do realize that we can pay for our coffee, right?”
“I did pay for it,” Brendon insisted. “With my smile!”
Spencer rolls his eyes and throws an arm over Brendon’s shoulder. “C’mon, rockstar, let’s get out of here before someone recognizes you.”
“Lemme have a taste of yours,” Brendon says as they cross the parking lot.
Spencer shakes his head; Brendon has his own coffee. He tries – not so successfully – to avoid Brendon’s puppy dog eyes. “Fine,” Spencer sighs, “here.” He resigns himself to handing over his cup of coffee when they reach Brendon’s car.
Brendon tries to hide his smirk behind the cup; he didn’t really want the coffee, he just wanted Spencer to give it to him. He hands Spencer his coffee back and holds out his own cup. “Wanna taste mine?”
Spencer grins but ignores the offered cup in favor of licking the taste straight from Brendon’s lips.
Brendon kisses back out of instinct at first, surprised, but melts into Spencer a little as he pushes him against the car, fumbling to set his cup on the roof before he drops it. He knows it’s wrong, that it’s Spencer but it’s not Spencer. But it’s Spencer’s body beneath his fingers, Spencer’s hands sliding under his shirt, Spencer’s voice whispering his name like a secret plea. And so even though he knows it’s wrong, that’s not enough to make him stop.
A car alarm is, though, and Brendon pulls back, looking across the parking lot anxiously. Zack is totally going to kill the two of them if someone got a picture of that. If Spencer doesn’t kill him first for stopping.
Spencer’s smiling at him, though, when Brendon turns back to face him.
“I guess being famous isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, since I can’t make out with my boyfriend in public.”
Brendon grins at him and unlocks the car door. “Home.” He’ll let the boyfriend remark slide for now.
They trade easy banter on the way back to the house, Spencer’s hand on Brendon’s thigh the entire time. Spencer apparently didn’t lose his ability to back-seat drive when he lost his memory and his drivers’ license, but it doesn’t bother Brendon as much as it would have in the past.
Brendon notices Shane’s car is gone when he pulls into the driveway, and he sends up a brief, silent bit of thanks to whatever Fate arranged that. He knows that what he’s about to do is wrong, thankyouverymuch; he doesn’t need Shane’s conscience as well as his own.
He leads Spencer to his bedroom, ignoring Dylan’s indignant barks at being shut out of it as he locks the door behind the two of them. He knows it won’t make much difference if Shane does come home – he can totally hear Shane and Regan – but it affords them a little bit of privacy.
As soon as Brendon turns around, Spencer has him pressed against the wall, one hand tangling in his hair and the other bunching up his t-shirt. Spencer's fingers are hot where they brush against Brendon's skin, and even though there is an underlying urgency to the way Spencer is kissing him, it's nowhere near as rushed and frantic as Brendon is feeling. He wants this, wants Spencer – if he's being honest, he's wanted Spencer for a long while – but he's afraid that Spencer is going to suddenly get his memory back, realize Brendon – what he thinks he has with Brendon – is a lie.
Brendon breaks the kiss and nudges Spencer back – as awesome as this is, there's not really a reason why they're not using the bed. Brendon toes off his sneakers and kicks them across the room, rolling his eyes when Spencer sits down on the edge of the bed to untie his shoes and place them just under the bed. Spencer and his fucking shoes.
“I hope you don’t plan on being that meticulous with the rest of your clothes,” Brendon says, stripping off his shirt.
“Not this time.” Spencer reaches out and tucks his fingers into Brendon’s waistband to pull him closer to the bed. He presses a kiss against Brendon’s stomach as he pops the button on Brendon’s jeans.
Brendon slides his fingers through Spencer’s hair, tugging lightly. “Quit teasing and get naked.”
Spencer laughs – “Impatient little thing, aren’t you?” – but pulls his shirt over his head, lays back on the bed to wriggle out of his own pants and underwear. He props himself up on his elbows, looking incredibly confident for someone who doesn’t remember having sex, as he watches Brendon expectantly.
Brendon wonders exactly what Spencer’s seen in the memories he thinks are him and Brendon. It’s hard to live up to an expectation that he’s really not sure of. He also doesn’t know how far this is going to go, how far Spencer wants to take it – Brendon’s greedy; he’ll take whatever Spencer is offering – but he’s trying to remember whether or not there are condoms in the nightstand. Casual sex has never really been his thing, all evidence and rumor to the contrary, and it’s been a while since he got off with anyone other than himself.
“Change your mind?” Spencer’s voice is calm, steady, but the uncertainty in his eyes, the way he hesitates before reaching for Brendon again, tells him a different story.
“Not on your life.” Brendon leans over to kiss Spencer, running his hand over Spencer’s stomach before pulling away. “I just want to make sure I don’t have to go steal condoms from Shane’s stash before I get naked.” He rummages through the nightstand drawer, coming up with condoms and lube in quick succession. He drops them on the bed and shoots Spencer a triumphant look.
Spencer’s moved so he’s stretched out in the middle of the bed – Brendon really has to stop and just appreciate the view for a moment because he never never expected to have Spencer Smith in his bed like this – and bites his lip a little nervously. “So we’re really doing this?”
Brendon shucks his jeans and boxers, crawling up onto the bed, over Spencer. “What, change your mind?”
Spencer’s entire face lights up with his smile as he pulls Brendon close to him. “Not on your life.”
Brendon doesn’t have time to laugh at the reversal of their conversation, not with Spencer kissing him and all that naked skin pressed against him. Spencer rolls them over, and even though Brendon feels amazing -- it’s Spencer and okay, maybe Brendon’s a little easy for him, but he’s still fucking awesome at this – he thinks it’s not fair that Spencer gets to take his time, to explore Brendon’s body with his eyes, hands, tongue. Brendon can’t really ask for the same because, as far as Spencer knows, they’ve done this before, multiple times. And yeah, Brendon’s seen Spencer naked but never like this, flushed and sweaty and his, and he’s never been allowed to touch, to taste, to have.
Brendon’s convinced Spencer is a sex superhero. His secret power is knowing exactly where to touch Brendon, how to make Brendon moan with just a swipe of his tongue, the way to get Brendon to arch up off the bed with just the right twist of his fingers inside him.
“Spence, please, fuck.” Brendon knows he’s being demanding and whiny, but he fucking wants and Spencer’s fingers aren’t enough.
Spencer pulls his fingers out and reaches up to grab the condom from beside Brendon’s head, stopping for a sloppy kiss as he fumbles with the wrapper. “Yeah, Brendon, yeah.” Spencer’s shaking a little as he rolls on the condom, settles himself between Brendon’s legs. Brendon can relate; he’s got the same energy thrumming through his veins, like his body is going to turn itself inside out just to get closer to Spencer.
Brendon can’t help the slight whimper that escapes when Spencer pushes in – it’s been a while since he’s been fucked, and that first taste of pleasurepainfullness always takes his breath away – and bites his lip, hoping Spencer didn’t catch it. But Spencer goes still and tense, starts to pull away, and Brendon wraps his leg around Spencer’s back, holding him in place.
Spencer raises his hand to cup Brendon’s cheek, swipes his thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it out from under Brendon’s teeth. “Hurt?”
Brendon doesn’t tell Spencer that he likes the bit of pain that dances around the edges of his pleasure, is counting on it to pull him back from the edge or he’ll be coming before Spencer even gets started. Besides, Brendon likes it a little rough.
He flicks his tongue against the pad of Spencer’s thumb. “We’re good, Spence, just give me a sec.” His voice is bordering on weak and unsteady, but he figures that’s excusable since he’s got Spencer’s cock sliding in his ass.
Spencer pulls back a little and pushes in, the glide getting smoother with each short, slow thrust. Brendon’s world is reduced to just this, just the feel of Spencer keeping him grounded and the babble of his own voice jumbling Spencer’s name with some expletives, and he really really wants to stay lost in this feeling.
Spencer, though, is wrapping his fingers around Brendon’s cock, mumbling something against Brendon’s skin, and Brendon lets the words sift through his mind. “C’mon, Brendon.” Brendon comes with Spencer’s name on his lips and keeps whispering it, sliding his hands over Spencer’s skin, hot and slick with sweat and his, until Spencer follows.
Spencer rests heavily against Brendon, breathing hard, and Brendon maybe protests tiredly when Spencer pulls away. He thinks Spencer may be laughing at him, but he’s not too bothered it, secure in the fact that whatever Spencer’s doing he can’t have gone far because he still has one hand curled around Brendon’s side. Spencer tosses the condom into the wastebasket and wipes them both off with Brendon’s discarded t-shirt (Brendon wants to glare at him for using his shirt when Spencer’s was totally closer, but decides it would take too much effort), then stretches out beside Brendon.
Brendon immediately rolls over and sprawls out mostly on top of Spencer, licking his neck.
Spencer just laughs and wraps his arms around Brendon, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Brendon sings in the shower, filled with cautious glee and the knowledge that Spencer fucking Smith is asleep in his bed, naked. After, he’s surprised to find Spencer is actually dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning Brendon’s cell over and over in his hands.
“We weren’t fucking.”
Brendon stops and stares, shakes his head. He’s not sure if Spencer’s got his memory back, or if last night didn’t live up to Spencer’s false memories, or what exactly is going on.
“So we never, before last night?”
Again, Brendon shakes his head, feeling like he’s missing a huge, important piece of the conversation, wishing Spencer would look at him.
“Was it because of Haley?”
“You… do you remember Haley?”
Spencer shrugs, shakes his head. “She called, while you were in the shower. Something about her parents’ anniversary gift? I probably shouldn’t have answered it, but it was kind of automatic, you know? She asked how I am, and about my dogs. And I think she was crying. Or I made her cry, maybe? I just… I don’t want to cause problems for you, with her. I didn’t know. I mean, I’ve met Keltie, and I talked to Jon’s Cassie, but no one ever said you… I just didn’t think of it, I guess, since I keep seeing us together, but if there’s Haley…”
“Spence, wait.” Brendon sits down beside Spencer and covers Spencer’s hands with his own to stop the fidgeting. “Haley’s not mine. She’s yours. Or, she was.”
“Since when do I date girls?”
Brendon has to laugh at that, because it’s Spencer and as far as Brendon knows, he’s always dated girls. He pulls his hand away and runs it over his face, trying to figure out what to say. “When did you not date girls?” he finally asks.
“Uh. I never really dated anyone, I guess. At least, before all this. I went to a few dances with the girl that lived next door to us, Lily, and we made out a few times. But I made out with Ryan too, so. I guess I just hadn’t made up my mind yet.”
Brendon has to fight the urge to call Jon and demand his fifty bucks – he so called that – but making out with Ryan Ross isn’t the point. The point is Spencer doesn’t remember Haley, doesn’t remember the woman he’s loved for years, and Brendon isn’t sure what to say.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Spencer’s voice is deceptively soft and he’s pointedly not looking at Brendon.
“What question?”
“Was it because of Haley?”
“Spencer…” Brendon slides to the floor in front of Spencer, waits for Spencer to look at him before he continues, “You’re one of my best friends, and I love you. You know that, right? I fucking love you. And Haley made you happy. You two made each other happy. There was never… god. I wouldn’t have messed with that, couldn’t have taken that chance.”
“And if there hadn’t been Haley? Would you have taken that chance?”
Brendon sighs, wants to look away but he’s stuck watching Spencer watch him. “I think I’ve been in love with you since before I came to terms with liking boys more than girls. And I’m a little in love with Ryan and Jon, too, but it’s not the same. Definitely nowhere near the same. And you’re hot, so fucking hot, and if it were about sex then I would’ve taken the chance and not thought twice, Haley or no. But you’re more than that. You’re the one that lets me steal your blankets when it’s cold on the bus. You let me take the first shower even though it’s rightfully yours on hotel nights, and you never complain when I wake you up too early and make you watch cartoons with me. When I got sick last year, you spent three days here, cleaning up after me and acting like a mother-hen, and when we’re on the road you always share the care packages your mom sends. You sing Disney songs to me when I can’t sleep.”
“I never did that,” Spencer interrupts quickly.
Brendon laughs. “You could have! You don’t remember!”
“No, I’m pretty certain I never sang you to sleep. Other way around, maybe.”
Brendon laughs again, then turns serious. “Fuck, Spencer, you are so much more than a chance and I would never risk losing you, not when I’m content with what you already give me.”
“But what if you wouldn’t lose me? What if I want you in my life, want you to be the one I fall asleep with every night, on or off tour? I… I think I love you, Brendon.”
Brendon gives Spencer a sad smile and shakes his head. “You do love me; I’ve never doubted that. But you aren’t in love with me. Or, you weren’t before all this happened.” He sighs and stands up, turning to rummage through the closet for something to wear. “This was probably a mistake, and Ryan is going to kill me. Can we just… can we wait until you get your memory back and pick up from there?”
“But what if I don’t get those memories back?” Brendon has to strain to hear Spencer over the rustle of fabric as he gets dressed, his voice is that low. “What if I have to just start over, build new memories? Me, the Spencer that’s sitting here right now – I’m in love with you, Brendon. I mean it.”
Brendon finally chances a glance in Spencer’s direction. Spencer looks about as miserable as he feels, which is definitely not how Brendon had expected this morning to go. “I know. But we can’t.” Brendon wants to go over and push Spencer back onto the bed, crawl back under the covers with him and never leave, but he knows he can’t. He’s already made enough of a mess of things.
The two of them are just staring silently at one another when the front door slams. “Yo, Bden, Spence!”
Brendon’s a little confused, and it must show on his face.
“I called Zack to come get me,” Spencer explains, standing up.
Brendon nods, but he doesn’t get it, not at all. Spencer’s going to drop something like this on him and then walk out? Brendon doesn’t move when Spencer kisses him on the cheek before walking out to meet Zack. He’s still standing in the same spot when Zack comes into the room.
“Everything okay?”
It’s not, and Zack knows it’s not, but Brendon nods anyway and plasters on a fake smile, and Zack pretends like he believes it.
“Have fun reading to the kiddies.” He starts to walk back down the hall, but turns and hugs Brendon instead. “It’ll all work out, Bren, just wait.”
Zack doesn’t know the half of what’s going on, but Brendon wants to believe him, so he does. He hugs Zack back, tells himself that if Zack says it then it must be true (because that actually works for most things), and then finishes getting ready for Story Hour.
The kids are all excited to see him, since he missed the last two weeks. Brendon is happy to see them too, but his heart isn’t completely in the storytelling today and his exuberance is a little dimmer than usual. Still, they have a good time, and after he reads Punk Farm on Tour (and okay, maybe Brendon actually sings most of the book, but he kinda loves it and so do the kids), they make animal puppets and Brendon is left with that tired-but-happy feeling he always gets after Story Hour. He tries to brush most of the glitter off his shirt, but he knows it’s a lost cause. How more of the rainbow glitter ended up in his hair and on his clothes than on the puppets is a mystery to him. He still doesn’t know why farm animal puppetry required glitter in the first place!
He calls Zack and heads for Spencer’s place. It feels strange, driving such a familiar route and knowing that when he gets there nothing will actually be familiar at all, but he tries to push aside the knots in his stomach, tries to find the reservoir of happy he knows he has on hand.
Zack’s waiting for him on the front steps of Spencer’s house. “I’m passing Spencer-duty off to you, man. He’s all yours.”
Brendon watches as Zack climbs into his own car and drives away. What the hell? He pushes open the front door and wanders through the house, noticing how quiet things are without the dogs.
Spencer’s sitting on the patio, playing with a small box that Brendon recognizes from the jewelers. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look up when Brendon slides the door open, but his posture shifts, tenses. Brendon knows Spencer is aware of him, but doesn’t say anything, waits for Spencer to speak.
When he does, his voice is so low Brendon has to strain to hear it, and he’s looking at the ring box instead of Brendon. “I love Haley. I want her happy and would do anything to make that happen. She said… she would’ve said yes if she thought it was what I really wanted. I thought she meant the band, even though she’s always known the band comes first, even when she said it was you. I thought she meant the three of you, but she really did mean you, Brendon. Just you.
“I didn’t want to admit she was right – not because I don’t love you, or that I’m not in love with you, because I so am – but because I didn’t want to hurt her, or you, or the band.” Spencer sets the ring box on the table and glances at Brendon. “Why do you look like you’ve been rolling in fairydust?”
Brendon laughs and sits down next to Spencer. “Glitter was a big hit at Story Hour today.”
“At least you don’t look like a rubber duck this time, I guess.”
“Hey, the kids loved that!”
“I did too; that’s the problem! I come to pick you up and there you are, prancing around in a bright yellow raincoat and those hellacious rubber boots, and I couldn’t look away. That was the day after Haley… well, with the things she said and the things I was realizing, it was a lot to think about.”
Brendon suffers through the silence momentarily, watching Spencer while Spencer is studying his own hands. Finally, Brendon clears his throat. “You finished thinking about it now?”
“Yeah.” Spencer nods and looks out at the yard, at the ring box, at several other things before he settles his gaze on Brendon. “All that stuff I said this morning? Well, my memory’s back and it’s all still true. I love you, Brendon. I love you.”
Brendon grins at Spencer before pulling him in for a kiss. He knows things are far from being figured out, but Spencer has his memory back and just said he loves him. Life is looking pretty good from where Brendon’s sitting right now. “You think we should call Ryan and Jon, tell them you got your memory back?”
“Not yet.” Spencer stands up and reaches for Brendon’s hand to pull him to his feet. “I think I’d rather make some new memories with you first.”
