angelsandkings | ALL TOGETHER NOW! (V. 2) A bandom comment fic meme!

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ALL TOGETHER NOW! (V. 2) A bandom comment fic meme!

It's that time of year again!

Prompt! Write! Feedback! Anon or not. And tell other people about it, so we can have a bigger, better time.

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Spencer the evil pirate (but secretly, he's not evil at all!) kidnaps Brendon \O/ (Brendon's father could be someone important or someone who wants to capture Spencer and his crew :P)

YES PLEASE *__________*

This is PERFECT.

Chantal Claret/Jimmy Urine, Killjoys-verse. If Jimmy's a draculoid, what does that mean for them? Does Chantal work for BLI too?

Everyone in Cabn 5 -- hell, everyone at the camp, including the director -- knows that Pete is dating Alicia, so Mikey doesn't see why he needs to flaunt it like he's been doing all week. It's not that Mikey even cares, okay, it's just that it would be nice to come back from Swimming (or in his case, refusing to get in the water) and be able to huddle in his bunk without hearing Pete make out with Alicia in the bunk above.

Mikey sticks his figures in his ears and makes what he hopes is a long-suffering noise. Then he makes it again, in case Pete didn't hear the first time. He glares at a knot in the wood of the wall and cautiously takes his fingers out of his ears. Pete and Alicia have stopped making out, which is good, but now Pete is talking to him.

"How come you're never wet after Swimming?" Pete asks, sticking his head over the edge of his bunk and looking at Mikey upside-down, carefully straightened bangs falling out of whack. He doesn't wait for Mikey to answer.

"I know you never even go in because your hair's always the same as it is in the morning. Hey, Mikey, speaking of morning, wasn't breakfast gross? Ew, I hate the eggs here. But there was bug juice, that was cool. And waffle sticks. Do you like waffle sticks? Hey, Mikey --"

"Ugh," says Mikey, eloquently, and decides to go find Gerard. From somewhere above him, he hears Alicia stifle a laugh.

___

"I can't believe they put me with him again this summer," Mikey complains, picking at Gee's Star Wars sleeping bag. "I don't see why I can't be in Cabin 3 with you."

"Too old, you know that," Gerard says absently. He should probably be somewhere else right now, like at a CIT meeting or something, but Gerard never follows the schedule. They probably won't let him be a counselor next year, and then Mikey'll be all alone. Probably he just won't come.

"Frank's almost as old as me," Mikey says. It's not fair at all. The cutoff is totally arbitrary, and he's stuck in a cabin with stupid no-fun Brian as a counselor and Pete in the bunk above him.

Gerard sighs. "Aren't you supposed to be at the athletics field right now?" he asks. Mikey doesn't say anything, and Gerard just looks at him, then lies back and stares at the cabin ceiling.

"There's a beer under my bed," he says. Gerard is the worst CIT ever, but that's okay because he's an awesome brother. "Split it?"

____

It's a little chilly out, sort of weird for July, and Mikey pulls his feet up on the rock and hugs his knees to his chest. Dinner was alright, burgers and fries, but he forgot to take his socks off when he waded out to the rock and now they're wet. Well, he remembered pretty soon after he stepped in the water but it was too late then anyway so he just kept going. He watches beads of water seep out of the socks and trickle away, and it's sort of fascinating which is why he doesn't notice someone splashing out to him until it's too late.

"Hey Mikeyway!" says Pete, getting water all over Mikey as he hoists himself onto the rock. "I didn't know you'd found my rock! Anyway, isn't it cool? I like how you can look out over the lake and hear people going by on the path but they can't see you, like you're a spy, you know?"

Mikey knows all of this, because it's not Pete's stupid rock, it's his.

"It's my rock," he mutters.

"We can share, I don't mind," Pete says, smiling like he's doing Mikey a favor. He's got eyeliner on and he looks ridiculous.

"Shouldn't you be kicking me off so there's room for Alicia?" Mikey asks, meanly. He used to like Alicia, is the worst part. He used to like Pete, too, last summer when they hung out together the whole time and had a secret club and before Alicia ruined everything.

"We broke up," says Pete. He's not smiling anymore, but he doesn't sound that upset about it.

"Oh," Mikey says awkwardly. They stare at the sun setting on the other side of the lake, and Mikey wishes he'd remembered to put on bug repellent.

"So you never want to go in the water at Swimming, but you'll walk out to the rock," says Pete. "I guess you aren't a witch after all." He sounds a little disappointed.

"What?" says Mikey.

"You know, witches float, right? Like that's how they used to know who to burn, or whatever. I thought maybe you float and you didn't want people to know you could do magic."

"I'm pretty sure if I could do magic Gerard would have bragged to everyone at camp by now," Mikey says. "He can't keep secrets at all. He tells me my Christmas present every year at Easter."

"Fucking mosquitoes," says Pete. "Should we go back in?"

"I don't like putting my face in the water," says Mikey suddenly.

"Okay," says Pete. "I'm pretty sure it only comes up to our ankles here, though."

"I mean, like, that's why in don't go in during Swimming," says Mikey. "I can do it. I know how to swim, I mean. I just don't like all the green and how you don't really know where you are."

Pete's looking at Mikey with wide eyes all circled in black, and he nods without saying that it's stupid.

"You could pretend it's the mists of time from Amazon Trail," he says, and then he blinks twice and presses his lips against Mikey's.

Oh, thinks Mikey, and he's not so mad at Alicia anymore. Pete moves his mouth away and breathes out a little and his eyes are still wide and his breath smells like burgers.

Mikey doesn't really mind, so he leans in again before Pete can say something stupid, and it feels a lot like opening his eyes underwater, but good.

They stay out long enough for the mosquitoes to launch an all-out attack. Mikey doesn't care.

MCR slave AU, Ray/anyone with Ray as a submissive.

Bob/Brian, macho bullshit.

Ryan/anyone else in PATD. Esprit de l'escalier.

PATD are guest stars on the Muppet Show.

Eeeee! This is so delightful! <3

Aw, this was so sweet!

Brendon/Spencer, medical play. Bonus if it's sort of spontaneous rather than a planned BDSM scene... something like Brendon thinks he has a rash in a delicate area but he isn't sure and he doesn't want to have to tell Zack so he can go to a doctor in case it's nothing. Spencer finally gets tired of his whining and offers to take a look. While wearing latex gloves.

Um, this has nothing to do with the movie (I think, I haven't seen it) just stole the title...

Ryan made a big deal out of it when it first happened. Some prince coming to their school. Spencer wasn't that impressed. Like, maybe if he was the prince, the heir apparent, or something. But this guy's just the fifth kid of the third son of the queen—something like fifteenth in line to the throne. No one in his actual country cares that he's a prince, because the title's basically like a courtesy, and everyone at school was only excited because they're Americans, and it's a novelty. Prince Edward's coming to campus
Spencer, personally, spent more time being curious why the guy would come here out of all his options. He could understand wanting to get away from the craziness that is the British Royal Family and all the duties that come with that. Prince Edward's mother, the Countess of York, is American. Spencer remembers his mother's magazines growing up, occasionally featuring the family on one of their frequent vacations to the States.
So coming to America for college wasn't too strange. But the University of California? It seemed so...uncouth. Shouldn't a prince be going some place like Harvard, or Brown, or Princeton? Really, that's all the thought he gave the matter.
After a few months the clamor died down. No one every actually seemed to have met Prince Edward—for a while Ryan was suspicious of every dude with a British accent, but eventually he dismissed the whole thing as a rumour.

There's this weird kid in Spencer's History of Music class, Brendon. He's good-looking, but dresses like someone else did it for him the rest of his life and he's just trying it out for himself for the first time—these big red framed glasses, skinny ties and vests with t-shirts, lavender hoodies with glittery rainbow jeans, paisley cowboy shirts with cravats—Ryan would probably fall in love at first sight.
Brendon has way more energy then one person ever should, always bouncing his foot and tapping his pen against his notebook, and talking a million miles an hour. And he talks a lot. He's sort of stupid smart, always has his hand in the air with the right answer to the prof's questions.
The thing is, Spencer loves making music and learning about music theory, but this history shit is sort of impossible to keep straight, especially when Professor Glenn tells them on the first test he'll be playing selections from the pieces they've been studying and they have to write the composer and the date and all this other information about it, and Spencer has a minor panic attack, because there's no way he can keep all these different pieces straight.
Everyone knows Brendon's acing the class, so it's a no-brainer to ask for his help. Spencer waits around after class on Thursday, when everyone else is filing out and Brendon's still lingering up near Professor Glenn's class discussing Brahms influence on Elgar.
Spencer calls Brendon's name and falls into step alongside him when he starts down the hall. Brendon smiles side-long at him in a curious sort of way. “Hey,” Spencer says, “I'm Spencer.”
“I know,” Brendon says. “What's up?”
“I'm sort of freaking out about this test,” Spencer says, shoulders slumping. “I, uh. I couldn't help but notice that you seem to know your shit--” Brendon snorts in laughter and Spencer can't explain it, but it makes him feel self-conscious. He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. “I know you probably don't need to study, but if you're going to, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind some company.”
Brendon's got this pensive expression on his face, when Spencer chances a look. “I have a prior engagement this evening,” Brendon says, in that strangely formal tone he has sometimes, “but if you wanted, I have tomorrow afternoon free?”
“Yeah?” Spencer says. “I have German until one.”
“We could meet at the student union at one-thirty,” Brendon suggests. He glances down the front steps, squinting against the late afternoon sun. “I've gotta run.”
There's a shiny black car down at the street, motor running, and when Brendon gets close, the driver gets out, dressed in a suit, and opens the back door. Brendon tosses Spencer a wave before disappearing inside. It's strange, but everything about Brendon is strange.

Brendon's waiting when Spencer gets to the student union, having claimed a table near the window on the second floor. It's quieter than the common areas on the ground and first floors, with just a little traffic of people heading to offices. He's got a laptop with him and his notes with their neat handwriting and helpful highlights.
“I made a copy for you,” Brendon says, passing Spencer a binder. “I went through Professor Glenn's study guide and starred all the things that are probably going to be on the test.”
Spencer flips through the notes in amazement. He thought he did a pretty decent job of keeping up in class, but Brendon could turn these into a goddamn textbook. “I was mostly worried about the listening part.”
“Oh,” Brendon says, opening up his computer. He flashes Spencer a smile that Spencer automatically has to return. “I downloaded the pieces we listened to in class. I thought we could listen to the selections that are most likely to show up on the test.”
“You're kind of awesome,” Spencer says fervently, and Brendon blushes and bites his bottom lip. And Spencer's always noticed that Brendon is hot, but now he's taking time to appreciate all the different parts of the whole, up close.
They share Brendon's earbuds to listen to the selections a few times while looking over the notes, then Brendon starts quizzing Spencer on them. It takes forever, but by the time their stomachs start growling, Spencer feels mostly confident about the listening part of the test.
“Let me take you out to pay you back,” Spencer says, while Brendon's packing up his things.
Brendon looks hesitant and Spencer thinks about how every time he's seen Brendon on campus, he's been alone, and Spencer wonders about that car the other day. Finally Brendon nods and says, “I can—I'll have to make a call--”
“If you've already got plans, it's no big deal,” Spencer says. He really doesn't want Brendon to have other plans.
“No,” Brendon says quickly. “No. Dinner sounds lovely.”
Sounds lovely. It's probably ridiculous, that Spencer finds Brendon's weirdness charming.

Um, this has nothing to do with the movie (I think, I haven't seen it) just stole the title...
Also, if this posts twice, I fail so hard. IDK how to delete the unformatted one since I'm anon...

Ryan made a big deal out of it when it first happened. Some prince coming to their school. Spencer wasn't that impressed. Like, maybe if he was the prince, the heir apparent, or something. But this guy's just the fifth kid of the third son of the queen—something like fifteenth in line to the throne. No one in his actual country cares that he's a prince, because the title's basically like a courtesy, and everyone at school was only excited because they're Americans, and it's a novelty. Prince Edward's coming to campus.

Spencer, personally, spent more time being curious why the guy would come here out of all his options. He could understand wanting to get away from the craziness that is the British Royal Family and all the duties that come with that. Prince Edward's mother, the Countess of York, is American. Spencer remembers his mother's magazines growing up, occasionally featuring the family on one of their frequent vacations to the States.

So coming to America for college wasn't too strange. But the University of California? It seemed so...uncouth. Shouldn't a prince be going some place like Harvard, or Brown, or Princeton? Really, that's all the thought he gave the matter.

After a few months the clamor died down. No one every actually seemed to have met Prince Edward—for a while Ryan was suspicious of every dude with a British accent, but eventually he dismissed the whole thing as a rumour.

There's this weird kid in Spencer's History of Music class, Brendon. He's good-looking, but dresses like someone else did it for him the rest of his life and he's just trying it out for himself for the first time—these big red framed glasses, skinny ties and vests with t-shirts, lavender hoodies with glittery rainbow jeans, paisley cowboy shirts with cravats—Ryan would probably fall in love at first sight.

Brendon has way more energy then one person ever should, always bouncing his foot and tapping his pen against his notebook, and talking a million miles an hour. And he talks a lot. He's sort of stupid smart, always has his hand in the air with the right answer to the prof's questions.

The thing is, Spencer loves making music and learning about music theory, but this history shit is sort of impossible to keep straight, especially when Professor Glenn tells them on the first test he'll be playing selections from the pieces they've been studying and they have to write the composer and the date and all this other information about it, and Spencer has a minor panic attack, because there's no way he can keep all these different pieces straight.

Everyone knows Brendon's acing the class, so it's a no-brainer to ask for his help. Spencer waits around after class on Thursday, when everyone else is filing out and Brendon's still lingering up near Professor Glenn's class discussing Brahms influence on Elgar.

Spencer calls Brendon's name and falls into step alongside him when he starts down the hall. Brendon smiles side-long at him in a curious sort of way. “Hey,” Spencer says, “I'm Spencer.”

“I know,” Brendon says. “What's up?”

“I'm sort of freaking out about this test,” Spencer says, shoulders slumping. “I, uh. I couldn't help but notice that you seem to know your shit--” Brendon snorts in laughter and Spencer can't explain it, but it makes him feel self-conscious. He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. “I know you probably don't need to study, but if you're going to, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind some company.”

Brendon's got this pensive expression on his face, when Spencer chances a look. “I have a prior engagement this evening,” Brendon says, in that strangely formal tone he has sometimes, “but if you wanted, I have tomorrow afternoon free?”

“Yeah?” Spencer says. “I have German until one.”

“We could meet at the student union at one-thirty,” Brendon suggests. He glances down the front steps, squinting against the late afternoon sun. “I've gotta run.”

There's a shiny black car down at the street, motor running, and when Brendon gets close, the driver gets out, dressed in a suit, and opens the back door. Brendon tosses Spencer a wave before disappearing inside. It's strange, but everything about Brendon is strange.

Brendon's waiting when Spencer gets to the student union, having claimed a table near the window on the second floor. It's quieter than the common areas on the ground and first floors, with just a little traffic of people heading to offices. He's got a laptop with him and his notes with their neat handwriting and helpful highlights.

“I made a copy for you,” Brendon says, passing Spencer a binder. “I went through Professor Glenn's study guide and starred all the things that are probably going to be on the test.”

Spencer flips through the notes in amazement. He thought he did a pretty decent job of keeping up in class, but Brendon could turn these into a goddamn textbook. “I was mostly worried about the listening part.”

“Oh,” Brendon says, opening up his computer. He flashes Spencer a smile that Spencer automatically has to return. “I downloaded the pieces we listened to in class. I thought we could listen to the selections that are most likely to show up on the test.”

“You're kind of awesome,” Spencer says fervently, and Brendon blushes and bites his bottom lip. And Spencer's always noticed that Brendon is hot, but now he's taking time to appreciate all the different parts of the whole, up close.

They share Brendon's earbuds to listen to the selections a few times while looking over the notes, then Brendon starts quizzing Spencer on them. It takes forever, but by the time their stomachs start growling, Spencer feels mostly confident about the listening part of the test.

“Let me take you out to pay you back,” Spencer says, while Brendon's packing up his things.

Brendon looks hesitant and Spencer thinks about how every time he's seen Brendon on campus, he's been alone, and Spencer wonders about that car the other day. Finally Brendon nods and says, “I can—I'll have to make a call--”

“If you've already got plans, it's no big deal,” Spencer says. He really doesn't want Brendon to have other plans.

“No,” Brendon says quickly. “No. Dinner sounds lovely.”

Sounds lovely. It's probably ridiculous, that Spencer finds Brendon's weirdness charming.

They go to dinner at a little Chinese place near campus. It's a hole in the wall, but it has the best pad thai Spencer's ever had, and it's cheap. Brendon looks bemused by it, and stands at the counter for a full ten minutes, staring at the menu, before finally just ordering the same thing as Spencer.

“Never had Chinese before?” Spencer teases.

“Of course I have,” Brendon says, but he's blushing again, and Spencer wants to see what else he can do to get that reaction. “Just never in place with such...character.”

“Sorry,” Spencer says, because Brendon has a driver and Spencer is lucky that his parents still give him an allowance on top of tuition.

“Oh,” Brendon says. He reaches out and lays his hand over Spencer's wrist for just a second. “No, I didn't mean—this place is awesome. When I moved to California, I said I was going to come to places like this, experience new things. And then I...didn't.”

“Where'd you live before?” Spencer asks. It drives him crazy that he can't place Brendon's accent.

Brendon doesn't answer for a minute, taking time to chew his food, and it really takes longer than it should. Spencer wonders if he should just change the subject, but Brendon swallows and clears his throat. “My family is from Berkshire,” Brendon says, and then clarifies, “England.”

“Wow, California must be a huge difference. How long is the exchange program?”

Brendon shrugs and puts down his chopsticks. “I don't know. My family. It's sort of hard to explain. They thought maybe I would benefit from some time away from home.”

“About as far as you can get away,” Spencer says, sort of unthinking, and wants to kick himself a second later.

“Yeah,” Brendon says, and he looks miserable. Spencer feels like the world's biggest dick. Before he can apologise, Brendon puts on a sunny smile. “But I mostly really like it here. The weather is gorgeous--I wanted to try my hand at surfing sometime.”

“Hey, I surf,” Spencer says, and when Brendon smiles at him, it looks less forced. “Look, you wanna—I know it's Friday and you probably have other plans, but I live a couple blocks from here, if you wanted to come over. I've got some beer in the fridge, we could eat there.”

It sounds weird, Spencer knows it does. If he was Brendon, he's not sure he'd agree to it. But Brendon bites his bottom lip again--fuck, that's gonna get Spencer in trouble—and nods his head in agreement.

Brendon makes another call while Spencer's getting Styrofoam boxes for their food and meets Spencer at the door with his widest smile yet. “I'm all yours,” he says, and Spencer swallows hard.

Brendon spends the first several minutes upon entering Spencer and Ryan's apartment studying every piece of furniture and knick-knack with a strange intensity. “Is this your brother?” Brendon asks, gesturing to the photos of Spencer and Ryan scattered across the bookshelf.

Spencer laughs. “Uh, no.”

“Oh,” Brendon says. He looks uncomfortable and grasps his hands behind his back. “Your boyfriend?”

Spencer laughs again, unable to help himself, even at the expression on Brendon's face. “You were closer the first time,” he says. “Ryan and I have been best friends forever. We rent this place together.”

“That sounds nice,” Brendon says, sort of wistfully.

Spencer gets them both beers and they finish their dinner of the sofa, watching Scrubs reruns. Brendon's delighted by the show and Spencer's sort of stupidly proud of showing it to him. He spends more time watching Brendon's reaction than the television, but Brendon's face is so expressive, and after he's finished his second beer, his laughter is more natural, and honest, and Spencer's had a couple beers, too. He can't help it.

They're somewhere around the third episode when Spencer's arm, stretched along the back of the couch, gets a mind of it's own, fingers brushing the tips Brendon's hair. Brendon glances at him out of the corner of his eye for just a second, before looking back at the television.

Spencer's pretty good at reading signals, and that is most definitely not a no. He lets his fingers trail lower, along the bare skin above the neckline of Brendon's ridiculous pink and purple plaid button-down. Brendon shivers and sets his beer on the coffee table, and his next laugh sounds forced and breathless.

“Can I kiss you?” Spencer asks, leaning in just a little, knee braced to push away or push closer depending on the answer.

Brendon lets out a shaky breath, looking straight ahead, and nods. Spencer palms Brendon's cheek, turning his face, and closes the space between them, letting his lips just brush Brendon's twice. When he draws back, Brendon's eyes are closed and his brow furrowed, like he's disappointed.

Spencer licks his lips and leans in again, presses their mouths together harder, tilts his head so their fitted just right. Brendon makes a soft sound. His hands come up, one curling in the front of Spencer's shirt, the other holding him by the arm.

It isn't until Spencer licks along the seam of Brendon's lips and Brendon responds, hesitant and clumsy, that Spencer realises this is Brendon's first kiss. He pulls away and Brendon blinks at him, full-mouthed and vaguely dazed.

“Did I do something wrong?” Brendon asks. His fingers clench gently against Spencer's arm and relax.

“Is this okay?” Spencer says. “I don't wanna--”

“No!” Brendon says. “It's okay. I want.” He blushes and ducks his head. “The other day, when you came up to me after class, I was trying so hard to play it cool. I've been trying to work up the courage to talk to you since the first day of class.”

“Me?” Spencer says, because Brendon's sort of gorgeous and Spencer's just....Spencer.

Brendon smiles and reaches out, brushing some hair out of Spencer's eyes. “Can we—I can do better, if you give me a chance.”

Spencer doesn't know how to respond to that, other than by kissing Brendon again. Brendon does get better. Improves by leaps and bounds, and in a relatively short time, each kiss hotter and slicker than the last, until Spencer isn't feeling like the confident teacher anymore, but more like a horny teenager making out for the first time.

Brendon only lets him pull away reluctantly, leaning back against the sofa looking like a fucking wet dream—mouth swollen, hair mused, cheeks flushed, his erection tenting the front of his jeans. “What'd I do?” he asks, sort of absently. He's watching Spencer like he's about to pounce.

“Nothing, but,” Spencer has to pause and take a centering breath. “I just. I got the impression that was your first kiss.”

“Yeah,” Brendon says. He sounds stubborn. “There weren't a lot of people my age around, growing up. So?”

“Just—Brendon, I really like you, but we just started hanging out, and if we keep going right now...” Spencer trails off.

“Oh,” Brendon says. The stubbornness melts instantly, replaced with embarrassment.

“Hey,” Spencer says. He touches Brendon's cheek because he can't help himself. “I really do like you, Brendon.”

It doesn't make that sort of ashamed expression on Brendon's face fade, and Spencer leans in to kiss him, soft and slow. He tries to keep the urgency from before out of it, but he's pretty sure he fails miserably, because they're both panting when they part.

“Let me take you out tomorrow,” Spencer says. “On a date. Movies, dinner, whatever you want.”

Brendon looks hesitant. “The University Chamber Chorus is performing tomorrow. It's a free show.”

Spencer rolls his eyes. “That's hardly me taking you out,” he says, but he lays his hand over Brendon's to show he's teasing. “But it sounds like fun.”

Brendon glances away from Spencer, and back again, and finally leans in, kissing him quickly. “And then we can...we can keep doing this, right?”

“Yeah,” Spencer says breathlessly. He's mostly positive that he couldn't stop if he tried.

Dating Brendon is an entirely new experience for Spencer. He's known he's into guys as well as girls for a long time, but he's never dated another guy. So he can't say if it's because Brendon's a dude, or if it's just because he's Brendon, but whichever way, it's so much easier and more fun.

It turns out Brendon's a Music major, and even though he's in undergrad he's taking some composition and ethnomusicology classes, too. He's fairly busy with his regular classes as well as his jazz, symphony, and chorus rehearsals, but Spencer doesn't mind doing his homework hanging out in the back of rehearsal, listening. It's sort of cool, actually.

They both love music, and while Spencer's never much considered himself a fan of classical stuff, he's open-minded. Brendon drags him to all the free concerts on campus, and in turn, Spencer drags Brendon to all Ryan's friend's concert's off-campus—indie, rock, pop, whatever. Brendon loves all of them, no matter how small or strange, and his enthusiasm wins Ryan over pretty quickly.

Before the cold weather has a chance to settle in for good, Spencer takes Brendon to the beach for a few beginner surfing lessons. Brendon, Spencer is starting to learn, is just good at everything and he picks up surfing with ease. Autumn is mostly on them, but Brendon talks about the Spring like it's just a given that they'll still be dating then, and it makes Spencer's stomach flip to hear.

Sometimes Spencer brings up going into San Francisco. Brendon hasn't really been, and he talks about seeing the sites, but whenever Spencer actually suggests doing it, Brendon gets weird and they always end up staying in, instead. Brendon can be weird about crowds, always looking around himself sort of warily, and Spencer figures he's maybe a little agoraphobic, and doesn't push it.

Staying in with Brendon is no hardship, anyway. Brendon has never invited Spencer to his place, but he spends most of his free time at Spencer and Ryan's. They like to cuddle up on the couch with movies and take-out, and they usually end up missing most of whatever is on the television, too busy making out.

And it's a little weird, because Brendon obviously wants to do more, but the last time Spencer had sex with a virgin, he was a virgin, too, and it feels so fast. He's always the one pulling away, making excuses, trying to get himself under control, which isn't precisely easy when Brendon's all over him, saying, “No, really, Spencer, I'm ready.”

The thing is, Spencer doesn't disbelieve him, but Spencer's not sure he's ready. The thing is, Spencer's sort of crazy about Brendon already, and doesn't want to fuck it up.

It's late and they're both tipsy. Ryan kept sneaking them drinks at the bar, and no one was bothering to police who he was giving them to. Brendon likes to give haughty speeches when he's drunk, about how in his country he's been legal for two years, and no one cares anyway—his family's served him alcohol since he was thirteen.

Spencer finds it adorable, but Ryan mostly rolls his eyes. (Ryan isn't still entirely convinced that Brendon's actually British. Claims the accent is suspect. He has this theory that Brendon ran away from his crazy religious family in Utah, or something.)

They come stumbling out of the bar and Brendon's driver is there waiting. He's always hanging around, whether he actually drives Brendon anywhere or not. Mostly Spencer tries to ignore it, but sometimes it's a little creepy. When he's asked, Brendon's just hand-waved about his over-protective family keeping an eye on him. Spencer thinks it's a little strange that his family would send him thousands of miles away and still need to keep an eye on him.

“It's only a few blocks, we can walk. I'm spending the night at Spence's,” Brendon tells the guy, which? Okay, Spencer doesn't have a problem with, exactly. It's just, they haven't really talked about it, and also, Spencer isn't entirely comfortable with this dude knowing his business. But the guy just nods and gets back in the car.

Brendon hooks his arm through Spencer's, dragging him along the sidewalk. Ryan's lingering inside with Z and Alex, and Spencer's fairly certain Ryan won't be coming home tonight. Normally he doesn't have an opinion one way or another about Ryan's habit of sleeping over, but right now, he's totally down with it.

“Gonna tell me no again?” Brendon asks, face pushed in Spencer's neck while Spencer unlocks the apartment door.

Spencer pauses to turn his head, catching Brendon's mouth in a slow kiss. “No,” he says.

Brendon follows him inside and stands by the door, hands thrust in his hoodie pockets. He looks uncertain, like he hadn't been expecting Spencer to agree. “Spence,” he says. “I need to tell you. I haven't been entirely honest.”

Spencer tosses his jacket over the back of the couch and pulls Brendon close by the hips. Brendon's arms automatically come up around Spencer's shoulders. “Oh?” Spencer asks, his tone teasing.

But Brendon looks uncomfortable, and he's holding himself stiff. “What is it?” Spencer asks, concerned.

“I don't want this to be some fling,” Brendon says, sudden and fierce. “I can't do that.”

Spencer shakes his head. “I didn't think that,” he says. He waits, can tell that Brendon has more to say, but Brendon is struggling with it, opening and closing his mouth twice before he stops. “You can tell me,” Spencer says.

“I know,” Brendon says. “I think I—I know I love you, Spencer.”

Spencer can hardly breathe around his heart stuck in his throat, but he finds himself smiling in relief. “Is that it?” Brendon draws a breath to answer, but Spencer says, “I love you too, Brendon,” first. He leans in, tilting Brendon's head back with a hand in his hair, and kisses him.

Spencer honestly doesn't remember the trip to the bedroom. He sort of wishes he hadn't had that last drink at the bar, because what he does remember is hazy. Brendon's fingers trembling as they undid the buttons on Spencer's shirt, Brendon's mouth hot and slick on Spencer's throat. He remembers how perfect Brendon's skin looked in the light from the streetlamp, and how Brendon arched off the mattress whenever Spencer touched him just right.

He remembers Brendon's gasp when Spencer finally wrapped his hand around Brendon's cock, how Brendon shuddered into to it, clinging to Spencer and kissing him like he never wanted it to end. Brendon came with this sort of desperate cry that Spencer can't forget when they're lying together after. Brendon pressed close, skin sweat-damp against Spencer's, and it should have been uncomfortable—it was uncomfortable—but Spencer didn't ever want to move.

Oh man, this was so adorable. ♥

IDK if this really fulfills the prompt? BUT IT'S IN THAT GENERAL SPIRIT?

*

"I don't know why I never said it before," Ryan says, stirring his coffee in Brendon's kitchen, making sure the sugar gets properly dissolved and absorbed.

It's been roughly seven years since he and Jon and Brendon and Spencer had had that awkward, messy, hurried conversation in someone's living room - he doesn't even remember whose anymore - and walked away with we're done with this. We're done. Seven years of doing his own thing - writing music, leading projects, fronting his own band, doing the solo thing. He doesn't regret it - he's gotten to do what he loves for most of his life and every piece of music he's ever played has been thoroughly his.

Seven years and they're playing together again, apparently. Him and Spencer and Brendon, just something silly and fun, on the weekends, when they meet up, occasionally. It's not a big deal, though it sort of feels like it should be. Spencer and Brendon are working on a new album, though they haven't officially told anyone yet, and Ryan likes hearing their bits and pieces, Brendon's ideas that he tosses off from the piano and Ryan picks up with his guitar and plays with, plays off of, develops and tosses back to him. It's a shock to realize how good Spencer's gotten with the drums. He'd always been good but Ryan hadn't been to their live shows in years and suddenly in Brendon's home studio Spencer's a fucking virtuoso.

"Because you're an asshole, that's why," Spencer says, sipping his own coffee, leaning against the counter, giving Ryan a look that's nothing but fondness.

"Yeah, well." Ryan has to say it. Of course Spencer wouldn't ask him to. "I'm sorry. For back then."

He's not trying to fix anything - there's nothing to fix. They're all happy and OK now, with themselves, with the world, with each other. Being in your 30s is awesome like that.

They're not trying to start anything new.

Spencer smiles to himself, a tiny curve of his lips, like his own private joke about Ryan, with Ryan still in the room. "Yeah, whatever." Ha grabs the coffee he made for Brendon. "Grab the cookies."

They head back to the studio.

Eee thank you! This is lovely.

Oh God. I've been waiting for this fic since the news of Pete's divorce hit. I know it makes me a bad person but I just don't care. WANT.

Ryan Ross as a long lost elven princess ;) who is trying to figure out her identity..

It's very specific, but yes, it really is a story that needs to exist in the world. It's been floating around in the fannish consciousness, I think, but I'd love to see people starting to take this particular topic on! Many times! Many versions!

YES YES YES!!

Ray and Gabe want to keep their relationship a secret.

Mikey goes to Frank for advice on how to make sure he and Alicia keep the spark.

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Page 4 of 8

ALL TOGETHER NOW! (V. 2) A bandom comment fic meme!

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Re: FILL: Yet, Victoria/Gabe. 1/1

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Re: Fill: Brendon/Spencer, modern day royalty AU

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Fill: The Prince and Me (Spencer/Brendon) 1/?

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Fill: The Prince and Me (Spencer/Brendon) 2/?

Fill: The Prince and Me (Spencer/Brendon) 3/?

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Fill: too late but not too soon (pg)

Re: Fill: too late but not too soon (pg)

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