"You know what's not good for my mental health?" Spencer leans up on one elbow and towers over Brendon. "When the other half of my band suddenly is acting out. Doesn't talk to me or our so-called temporary tour musicians or our bodyguard. Because then I have to think about what happened when my former two band members stopped talking to me."
"I'm not leaving," Brendon says.
"Then what's going on?" Spencer sounds honestly confused and that hurts, and Brendon hates himself because it hurts. Spencer's confused because according to him nothing happened. And Brendon's driving himself crazy and he's fucking everything up over something that Spencer probably can't even remember.
"Nothing," Brendon says quietly. "Just tired."
"Brendon ..." Spencer sinks back against the pillows. He's quiet for long enough that Brendon thinks he's fallen asleep. He's still holding on to Brendon, though, his fingers warm against Brendon's belly. Brendon closes his eyes. It feels much too intimate, even for his best friend, and he wonders whether he shouldn't have worn a shirt to bed. Spencer's fingers are relaxed and Brendon can't stop himself from reaching out and gently wrapping his hand around Spencer's fingers, mimicking holding hands. Spencer tightens his fingers, pulling Brendon tightly against himself, and it feels good. It feels so fucking good.
Right until Spencer speaks up and Brendon realises he's awake. "B?"
Brendon swallows heavily. Spencer's holding on to him firmly, so Brendon would have to use force to break free. But it's Spencer and Brendon doesn't want to. Suddenly he feels exhausted and does what he really didn't want to do--he talks.
"Did you ever," Brendon starts, only he has to swallow several times before he can continue, "have you ever considered that we, well, the two of us, that we could ... be something different?"
"Brendon," Spencer whispers quietly.
"It's not, I don't, I didn't want it to be awkward," Brendon says. "It's just. Weird. Now that it's happened and it didn't go the way I thought it would and now that's done and over with and nothing will ever be like I imagined it and ... it sucks."
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Spencer switches on the bedside lamp and he turns Brendon onto his back. Brendon can feel himself blushing, as he finds himself face to face with a wry smiling Spencer. "What happened?"
Spencer puts his hand over Brendon's mouth. "That wasn't a kiss," he says. "That was us stumbling around half-awake in the kitchen."
It feels like a blow to Brendon. "Yeah," he says. He tries to turn around again, away from Spencer.
"Hey." Spencer doesn't let Brendon move. Spencer looks serious now. "Brendon ... that was a kiss for you?"
Brendon's never felt this humiliated before, he's sure. Not even when Tommy Johnson stuffed him into his locker or when the quarterback made Brendon stumble and drop his lunch all over his white shirt. "No," he says. "It wasn't." It's safer to go with what Spencer thinks.
"Bren," Spencer says quietly. He's quiet for a moment, and Brendon feels his stomach twist anxiously. He feels bared, laid out in the open, and he can't read Spencer at all. What Spencer does next, surprises him.
Spencer leans in, slowly and carefully, and then he gently brushes his lips against Brendon's. The movement is deliberate and precise, and it's painfully sweet. Spencer doesn't push for anything more, but he lets the moment drag on. When he straightens up again, he's smiling.
"What was that?" Brendon hardly recognises his own voice, so small and quiet.
"That," Spencer says, "was our first kiss."
"But-"
Spencer presses his index finger against Brendon's lips. "Accidental kisses don't count," he says. "We get to choose what our first kiss is."
"So now you think it was a kiss, too," is probably not the best response to that, but it's what Brendon says.
Spencer sighs, but he's still grinning. "I know when it's better to cater to your delusions."
"Hey!" Brendon pouts, but it's difficult, because Spencer kissed him. Entirely on purpose. Brendon has to adjust his worldview a little.
Not Kissed #3
"I'm not leaving," Brendon says.
"Then what's going on?" Spencer sounds honestly confused and that hurts, and Brendon hates himself because it hurts. Spencer's confused because according to him nothing happened. And Brendon's driving himself crazy and he's fucking everything up over something that Spencer probably can't even remember.
"Nothing," Brendon says quietly. "Just tired."
"Brendon ..." Spencer sinks back against the pillows. He's quiet for long enough that Brendon thinks he's fallen asleep. He's still holding on to Brendon, though, his fingers warm against Brendon's belly. Brendon closes his eyes. It feels much too intimate, even for his best friend, and he wonders whether he shouldn't have worn a shirt to bed. Spencer's fingers are relaxed and Brendon can't stop himself from reaching out and gently wrapping his hand around Spencer's fingers, mimicking holding hands. Spencer tightens his fingers, pulling Brendon tightly against himself, and it feels good. It feels so fucking good.
Right until Spencer speaks up and Brendon realises he's awake. "B?"
Brendon swallows heavily. Spencer's holding on to him firmly, so Brendon would have to use force to break free. But it's Spencer and Brendon doesn't want to. Suddenly he feels exhausted and does what he really didn't want to do--he talks.
"Did you ever," Brendon starts, only he has to swallow several times before he can continue, "have you ever considered that we, well, the two of us, that we could ... be something different?"
"Brendon," Spencer whispers quietly.
"It's not, I don't, I didn't want it to be awkward," Brendon says. "It's just. Weird. Now that it's happened and it didn't go the way I thought it would and now that's done and over with and nothing will ever be like I imagined it and ... it sucks."
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Spencer switches on the bedside lamp and he turns Brendon onto his back. Brendon can feel himself blushing, as he finds himself face to face with a wry smiling Spencer. "What happened?"
"Well," Brendon starts. "We, uh, kissed and--"
"When?" Spencer looks startled. "'Cause I'd've remembered that."
"Last week," Brendon says, "you know when--"
Spencer puts his hand over Brendon's mouth. "That wasn't a kiss," he says. "That was us stumbling around half-awake in the kitchen."
It feels like a blow to Brendon. "Yeah," he says. He tries to turn around again, away from Spencer.
"Hey." Spencer doesn't let Brendon move. Spencer looks serious now. "Brendon ... that was a kiss for you?"
Brendon's never felt this humiliated before, he's sure. Not even when Tommy Johnson stuffed him into his locker or when the quarterback made Brendon stumble and drop his lunch all over his white shirt. "No," he says. "It wasn't." It's safer to go with what Spencer thinks.
"Bren," Spencer says quietly. He's quiet for a moment, and Brendon feels his stomach twist anxiously. He feels bared, laid out in the open, and he can't read Spencer at all. What Spencer does next, surprises him.
Spencer leans in, slowly and carefully, and then he gently brushes his lips against Brendon's. The movement is deliberate and precise, and it's painfully sweet. Spencer doesn't push for anything more, but he lets the moment drag on. When he straightens up again, he's smiling.
"What was that?" Brendon hardly recognises his own voice, so small and quiet.
"That," Spencer says, "was our first kiss."
"But-"
Spencer presses his index finger against Brendon's lips. "Accidental kisses don't count," he says. "We get to choose what our first kiss is."
"So now you think it was a kiss, too," is probably not the best response to that, but it's what Brendon says.
Spencer sighs, but he's still grinning. "I know when it's better to cater to your delusions."
"Hey!" Brendon pouts, but it's difficult, because Spencer kissed him. Entirely on purpose. Brendon has to adjust his worldview a little.