Spencer sort of lived for the moments where Brendon would push close, those moments when Brendon took over his space and leaned in until Spencer felt the body heat radiating. In those moments, they always shared breath for a few seconds, long enough to have Spencer swaying closer as Brendon’s hands came up. Brendon always, always slid a hand into Spencer’s hair while Spencer gripped Brendon’s hip. Each time, Spencer held on a little tighter, his grasp a little too telling. Then, every fucking time, Brendon’s hand always came up, his sweaty fingers covering Spencer’s lips so Brendon kissed the back of his own hand in the type of stage kiss any drama kid would envy.
They had it down to a science, a party trick they’d picked up in high school to get the attention of girls who liked that whole emo boys kissing scene for some reason. Now they only brought it out at random to get a rise out of people. Mostly, it just drove Spencer crazy.
Dallon was laughing, saying something that sounded like a dare; Spencer was a little too drunk to actually parse out the words. Ian was egging Dallon on because that’s just what Ian did, nothing to be concerned about. Then Brendon slid onto Spencer’s lap, knees bracketing Spencer’s thighs.
Brendon was heavier than usual, not holding himself as far away. He settled and Spencer gazed up at him when Brendon’s hand slipped into his hair. Spencer liked Brendon like this: flushed and content, a little fuzzy around the edges.
“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, proud he only slurred a tiny bit.
“Kissing you,” Brendon nodded, decisive.
“Liar,” Spencer whispered. His arms were somehow around Brendon, pulling their bodies even closer together. “You never do.”
“I do all the time,” he promised but Spencer just shook his head.
When Brendon’s other hand came up to stroke along his jawline, Spencer let his eye close. He went with the feeling. The warm puffs of breath against his lips, the way Brendon smelled of deodorant and faintly sweat. Brendon’s hand moved, closer to Spencer’s lips and Spencer reached for his elbow, not really holding him back but not really encouraging.
When there was finally a pressure against his lips, Spencer wasn’t very coherent. He couldn’t work out if it was Brendon’s fingers, like always, or his lips, like Spencer wanted. It was easier to go with whichever answer was most convenient.
Staged - Brendon/Spencer
They had it down to a science, a party trick they’d picked up in high school to get the attention of girls who liked that whole emo boys kissing scene for some reason. Now they only brought it out at random to get a rise out of people. Mostly, it just drove Spencer crazy.
Dallon was laughing, saying something that sounded like a dare; Spencer was a little too drunk to actually parse out the words. Ian was egging Dallon on because that’s just what Ian did, nothing to be concerned about. Then Brendon slid onto Spencer’s lap, knees bracketing Spencer’s thighs.
Brendon was heavier than usual, not holding himself as far away. He settled and Spencer gazed up at him when Brendon’s hand slipped into his hair. Spencer liked Brendon like this: flushed and content, a little fuzzy around the edges.
“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, proud he only slurred a tiny bit.
“Kissing you,” Brendon nodded, decisive.
“Liar,” Spencer whispered. His arms were somehow around Brendon, pulling their bodies even closer together. “You never do.”
“I do all the time,” he promised but Spencer just shook his head.
When Brendon’s other hand came up to stroke along his jawline, Spencer let his eye close. He went with the feeling. The warm puffs of breath against his lips, the way Brendon smelled of deodorant and faintly sweat. Brendon’s hand moved, closer to Spencer’s lips and Spencer reached for his elbow, not really holding him back but not really encouraging.
When there was finally a pressure against his lips, Spencer wasn’t very coherent. He couldn’t work out if it was Brendon’s fingers, like always, or his lips, like Spencer wanted. It was easier to go with whichever answer was most convenient.