fics_by_maple: (Bden/Spence)
[personal profile] fics_by_maple
Title: Handle With Care
Pairing/Prompt: Brendon/Spencer, domestic fic
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: In my opinion 'Ryan' doesn't require warning but just in case, there you go.
Notes: Thank you to [livejournal.com profile] mrsquizzical, [livejournal.com profile] queenb23more and [livejournal.com profile] barmy_bunk for the help and to the [livejournal.com profile] no_tags mod for the coordination! Dear recipient, I hope you enjoy this...

Originally posted here.
Handle With Care
~

Spencer was half awake the moment his unconscious mind registered the bed shift under the weight of someone other than Brendon, who was already sleeping within arm's reach.

He startled awake completely when Brendon's barely alert voice croaked, "Aw fuck, he's trying to kill us in our sleep."

Spencer knew who Brendon meant when he heard the quiet snorted chuckle. "I don't think so," he grumbled, half blind from the light of the hallway that he remembered shutting off when they came to bed. "Jesus, Ryan."

"Ross. The fuck?"

Flopped on the bed between them, Ryan was muffling his laugh into the comforter at Brendon's reaction, smelling like smoke and tequila.

A second moment of unease crawled up Spencer's spine as he felt the dull muscle ache in his thighs and the delicate skin of sensitive places rubbed raw from Brendon's unshaven chin. The newness of it gave him a rush of affection and protectiveness, and he was just as annoyed as Brendon to have Ryan impose on it. They'd cleaned up the condom wrappers and lube before letting Bogart back in the room, but Ryan wasn't dense enough to miss what he'd stumbled onto.

Spencer peered from under the hand shielding his eyes against the light and through the bright floating spots he could see Brendon backed against the headboard with the corner of the sheet clutched to his bare chest looking, thoroughly freaked out.

It was pretty funny but he didn't think Brendon would appreciate it if he joined Ryan in laughing at him.

Instead, he scrubbed a hand over his face and asked, "What's going on, man?"

"I …Um. How come you're here?" Ryan asked Brendon, ignoring Spencer's question.

"'s my house."

"No. I mean-" Ryan pressed but since Brendon didn't look like he could take any kind of interrogation – from Ryan of all people – when so few knew about them sleeping together at all, Spencer interrupted.

"Ry."

"Oh, right. Remember you-? I was close by and I kinda realized it was not wise for me to drive," Ryan slurred in a singsong voice, trying to make his sentence rhyme and then giggled to himself. "I'm being responsible, okay?"

"Breaking and entering is not responsible," Brendon muttered.

"I didn't break in. I used the code."

"How do you even know the code?"

"Spencer," he answered with a tone of 'duh' and Brendon glared over him. He'd have to explain that one later.

"Well, you could have rang."

"I thought you might have had guests. I didn't want to wake them. You guys have a lot of friends who stay over, so…"

Ryan was a master craftsman at the subtleties of passive aggressive self-deprecating attention seeking, but neither Spencer nor Brendon took the bait. They exchanged a look over his head and rolled their eyes.

"And I only meant to wake Spencer anyway. Are you mad? Why're you in here? Shit, are you naked?"

"I'm…" Brendon was too stunned by the rapid succession of questions to formulate a reply. He looked on the verge of nervously blurting out the truth.

"Hey, c'mon, Ry." Spencer pushed at him, trying to climb out of bed and give Brendon a reassuring look all at the same time. He, at least, slept in boxers and t-shirt. "You can sleep it off on the couch, okay? Go home in the morning."

"No, I don't want – you could just call me a taxi."

Ryan tripped and Spencer caught him, banging his elbow for his trouble.

"Fine. You're a taxi. Now, come on, move."

Ryan continued to explain himself in a happy babble about a party and a bar and a girl while Spencer pushed him along, grabbing a pillow and blanket out of Brendon's dusty room. Zack had slept on them once, and all the dogs since then, but Ryan didn't get to be picky.

Bogart hopped up on the couch next to Ryan as he took off his shoes. "Heya, boy," Ryan said, enjoying the attention, shooting Spencer a smile. "Wow, you got big since I saw you."

"Bogart, no, don't lick. Get off," Spencer yawned, sitting on the opposite couch. It was a futile reprimand. He only listened to Brendon.

Ryan pet and baby-talked the dog, but he tensed and looked guilty when Bogart ran across the room to Brendon. Wearing boxers now, he picked Bogart up, not coming any closer. "Um, got everything okay?" he asked.

And that was the sort of thing that made Spencer love him. He'd be sweet and really try even when he felt completely put out.

"Yeah. We're good," Spencer answered, realizing he'd inadvertently formulated a 'we' with Ryan, excluding Brendon.

"Yeah," Ryan added, inadvertently making things worse, as usual.

"Oh. Um, okay." Brendon shuffled for a second, looking uncomfortable and Spencer couldn't think of what to say to make it better before he turned back down the hall, hissing, "You're totally fired, kid," at Bogart as he went.

"Sorry," Ryan apologized after lying down, his mismatched socks sticking out of the blanket. "He's mad."

"He's not mad."

"He's -okay."

"So, are you gonna puke later? Should I put a bowl or something next to you?"

Ryan shook his head, having the nerve to look indignant. "No. God."

"'kay, then. Good night, I guess." Spencer wished they could just talk. Wished he could explain about him and Brendon, but now wasn't the time.

"Good night. Thanks. …Spence?"

He paused and turned around.

"I won't say anything. About you guys. I can keep secrets, really."

Spencer nodded. "We'd appreciate that."

"'Night."

Spencer shut off the hallway light and felt his way back into bed, feeling the quiet tension rolling off of Brendon. Bogart was lying in Spencer's spot. He wasn't about to be put off so easily.

"Hey. I'm sorry, okay?" Scooting Bogart to the foot of the bed, he reached under the sheet to put his hand on Brendon's stomach. "He called on Christmas, and I don't even know, he just sounded like he might need a place to crash sometime and I ended up giving him the security code just in case. Then I forgot. I meant to tell you."

"It's okay. It's fine."

Spencer inched closer, slowly, in case he misjudged how pissed Brendon was. He rested his lips and nose against Brendon's shoulder before pressing a kiss there.

"He won't tell, Bren. If that's what you're worried about."

Brendon made a skeptical snort. Spencer wasn't really inclined to try to defend Ryan, that was kind of pointless and he was too tired anyway. "Hey, roll over." He prodded at Brendon's ribs until he turned onto his stomach and Spencer massaged little circles up and down his back.

Brendon let out a deep groan into his pillow.

"Shh," Spencer snickered, collapsing half on top of him, laughing into the back of his neck. "That's just what he needs to hear!"

Brendon couldn't help himself either, and annoyance aside, began laughing too. "Would serve him right. He actually climbed into our bed, oh my god."

He turned back over and after bumping noses in the dark to find Spencer's mouth, kissed him.

"It's gonna be weird in the morning."

Spencer couldn't think of any comforting reply, because Brendon was right. It probably would be. "We'll just have coffee and feed the dog and whatever. Ryan will probably just leave. We'll gross him out with our domestic life." Spencer curved the arch of his foot over Brendon's shin and scratched his beard against Brendon's shoulder. "Sorry though. Again."

Brendon threaded his hand into Spencer's hair, scratching at the back of his scalp. "I kind of fell in love with you because you're such a good friend. You can stop apologizing. I don't mind."

"Thanks. Love you, too."

Spencer closed his eyes, content in the knowledge that Brendon wasn't pissed off and that Ryan wasn't driving under the influence.

He just hoped Ryan hadn't rear-ended Brendon's car.

~
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