Enneagram | Brendon/Spencer | NC-17 | by [livejournal.com profile] maple_mahogany

Dec. 26th, 2010 11:39 pm
fics_by_maple: (Bden/Spence)
[personal profile] fics_by_maple
Title: Enneagram
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer
Word Count: 18,300
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: RPF.
Summary/ A/N: Pastor!Brendon
There was a time when Brendon looked like a nice young pastor. (Short hair, skinny tie. You remember.) One of my favorite fic authors wrote a beautiful pastor!Brendon fic but it was locked the last time I looked.

I had intended for this to have theological debates and mature relationship compromises but in the end I just wrote the smooshy dating and wedding night porn. It's kind of 'not!fic' put together in places.

Chocolaty thank yous to [livejournal.com profile] mrsquizzical for all the encouragement and daydreaming, and to [livejournal.com profile] barmy_bunk and [livejournal.com profile] queenb23more for the beta help!

Enneagram - Part 1

"I'm not dating anymore. I'm going to have a job, like a grownup. A professional. A grown up professional," Spencer told Ryan as he packed, not quite meeting Ryan's eyes. He felt a little guilty leaving even though he knew it was the best thing for himself. "And I'm only going to date nice guys from now on. No more fucking around."

"Hate to break this to you," Ryan's voice was easy and low, falsely unaffected, "but if you only date nice guys, you'll be professionally celibate."

"Oh, fuck you."

"No. This is what I'm trying to explain…" Ryan's bottom lip quirking on his dry delivery. Spencer snorted and pulled him into a hug. He was going to miss Ryan, but couldn't leave L.A. fast enough.

He never mentioned that conversation to his mother, but at the end of his first month back in Vegas, she seemed to have figured Spencer out anyway. She was spooky like that.

"I'm not sure what you think is going to happen, honey, but a nice boy isn't going to just ring the doorbell and ask if he can date you."

"What?" Spencer glanced away from the game he wasn't paying much attention to.

"You have enough time to change your shirt," she hinted.

"I don't need to change my shirt for TV. Mom."

She stood, smiling politely, and waited.

"What?" he said around a sloppy mouthful of popcorn.

"Don't make me late, Spencer James. You'll want a clean shirt so you don't embarrass yourself."

"You already went to church this morning, and you're going again? Are you one of those church ladies now?"

She swatted the air at him. "There's a social this afternoon. Come and be social. Eat some jello salad and meet people."

Spencer gawped and looked longingly at the TV. "But! …Fine. But no jello salad. And I'm not changing my shirt."

An hour later, he took a seat at a table near the back of the hall and pulled up Words With Friends on his phone. He figured he could get a few games in before opening prayer was finished. He couldn't eat anything until then.

Spencer barely listened while his mom's pastor spoke. Pastor Wayne had done well to leave Spencer with a sour taste for the church. He'd asked his mom why she kept going there and she'd said that someone had to argue with him. He was introducing visiting clergy from neighboring churches ('Oh, good, more preachers,' Spencer thought) when he heard a name he recognized and looked up.

Brendon Urie. He had played a little guitar with Spencer and Ryan the summer before senior year. The last he'd heard of Brendon was that he'd had a religious crisis and moved out of his parents' house when he was still in school. It was hard to believe he was a pastor now.

There he was though, in his pressed white shirt and tie. His hair was regulation short and everything about him fit the part. Except, Spencer noticed, looking down, that he'd never seen a pastor sporting bright red sneakers or in general to be so damn good-looking.

"Spencer? Wow, hi! Hi!" Brendon said when curiosity got the better of him and he ambled over.

"Hey, man. Good to see you again." Spencer was expecting a handshake, maybe a chest bumping bro-hug but instead found himself wrapped up in a hot (actual raised temperature and slightly sweaty) embrace, arms tight-tight around his middle.

"Spence," Brendon stepped back but kept his hand on Spencer's arm. "I never expected to see you here! I thought you were in L.A.? With Ryan?"

"I was. He still is. But I came back," he was finding it difficult to talk to Brendon looking at him with his face. "I'm, I'm working now. You know. And California's expensive. So."

"Sure." Brendon nodded and bit his lip. Spencer shifted under the gaze Brendon was laying on him. He wasn't always aware when guys were flirting with him and Brendon was just making normal conversation, but there was something in the way he looked Spencer over, a subtle awareness of attraction that made Spencer have to wet his mouth and swallow before he could continue speaking.

"And you're, for real, a pastor? Like, at an actual church?"

Brendon laughed and ducked his head. "Yeah, for real. I know, right? Long story. Oh, you should meet – hey, Abigail, come meet Spencer! This is Spencer," Brendon said to a lady pastor.

"You must be Spencer," she teased Brendon while shaking his hand. "I'm Abigail, pastor at Meadows with Brendon. I'm pleased to meet you."

Spencer shook her hand, leathered with age but she had soft, kind eyes that put Spencer at ease.

Brendon bowed his head, blushing slightly at the teasing but accepted it with ease. "Spencer was – we were friends in high school. I played in his band one summer."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah. Briefly. What teenager isn't in a band at some point, right?" Spencer laughed it off.

Abigail looked between Brendon and Spencer, both smiling at their feet, and did a professional job of keeping a neutral expression on her face.

"It's lovely to meet you, Spencer. You're welcome to come visit us anytime."

Spencer was pretty sure he didn't imagine the smirk she gave Brendon as she turned away.

"So you, uh?" Brendon scratched his own clean-shaven chin, indicating Spencer's beard.

"Oh. Yeah. I forget. I've had it for a while."

"Well you look …" Brendon cleared his throat and laughed a little. "You look well. It's good seeing you again."

Spencer let his mother drag him around to socialize, shamelessly dropping in her intention to find him a husband more than once. He didn't really mind indulging her though. He kept his eye on Brendon and even though he was also engaged in duty bound conversations, Spencer caught him looking back.

Spencer reminded himself that this was Brendon, as though the knowledge of who he was should immediately erase his attraction. He kept trying to reconcile his memory of a seventeen year old with thick glasses, awkward clothes, and a funky haircut with the clean cut man (pastor!) he was looking at now.

Spencer wondered how transparent his thoughts were and then decided he didn't really care. Pastor or no, Brendon was hot, and he was definitely looking back at Spencer. Making things worse was how Brendon acted like they'd been great friends. Spencer had never disliked Brendon, but they only played together for a couple months. Ryan moved to L.A. his freshman year and Spencer had joined him right after.

Brendon caught him looking again and smiled back, bright and sincere, catching his lip with his eyetooth. Spencer's stomach actually fucking fluttered.

Holy shit, what is my fucking life? Spencer thought to himself, heedless of propriety. The hair on his neck stood up, from either excitement or impending lightning strike.


"I was living a perfectly happy life until you came along, woman," Spencer snarled through a mouthful of banana bread. "I wasn't dating, and I was happy."

"Who said anything about dating? An old friend wants to catch up with you. What's the big deal?"

"He's all hot now; it's confusing."

"For heaven's sake. Don't tell me my son is so shallow he can't be friends with a good-looking man without dating him."

"No, but-"

"I don't think he'd sleep with you anyway."


"I'm just saying," she waved him off, "even if you have no self control, he probably does. He's a nice boy."

"I'm a nice – ugh. Damn it, we are not discussing this …I have plenty of self control, thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it. You can have lunch with a friend, then."

"Come on, what the hell do I have in common with a pastor?"

"Don't think of him as a pastor. Think of him as an old friend."

"Except that he's hot."

"Hmm. Your life is hard."

"You're evil."

"You're a brat. I don't know where I went wrong."

He glared at her but her return raised eyebrow canceled his out and he gave up.


"There's my good boy."

Spencer slumped onto the kitchen bar and reached for another slice of bread.

"Lock up when you go, honey. And drive safe."


"See you next weekend?"


She hugged him around the neck, gentle and warm until she playfully squeezed his cheeks with her hand, mushing his lips into a pucker. He rolled his eyes and grunted but didn't fend her off.

"Sometimes God gives us what we need, even when we don't know it."

"Don't start with me," he grumbled through enforced fish lips.

She kissed his cheek, ignoring him. "Maybe open your heart to love, hmm?"

"I'm not even dating him!"

"But you did say he's hot."

"We are not discussing this. I thought you were going to bed?"

She gave him a perfectly innocent grin, patted his cheek and walked away looking far more smug than he thought she had reason to.


It was after a week of replaying in his mind Brendon's "It'd be really cool to catch up sometime," Brendon's voice sounding hopeful but like he already knew Spencer wouldn't call, that Spencer found himself leaving work an hour early. Brendon was the most likable person he'd met in a long time but his profession was probably intimidating when it came to making friends. And making boyfriends must be... well, Spencer didn't take to intimidation.

It wasn't even spring yet, but the afternoon was hot, and thinking back on playing music in his grandparents' garage had him picking up a couple bottles of Dr. Pepper at Quikmart as he strolled into Meadows Church, fronting like he belonged there.

He wandered through the back hall, getting friendly greetings by a few passersby as he went, until he found an office where Brendon and that pastor, Abigail, were sharing notes over a desk.

Brendon blinked once and then smiled like he'd been expecting Spencer all along.

"Ooh, my favorite!" he said, grabbing the bottle of soda. Referring to the Dr. Pepper or Spencer, Brendon's reference wasn't incredibly clear.

"I thought I remembered it had been."

Brendon blushed and distracted himself with twisting off the lid and taking a drink.

"Hi," Spencer acknowledged Abigail before turning to Brendon. "Wanna go for a drive?"

Brendon looked a little surprised and Spencer had the ridiculous feeling he was playing Johnny rescuing Baby from the corner but he refused to live in a romance (a dance romance, fuck) and tried to act like his presence here were perfectly normal.

Brendon glanced at Abigail with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, go on!" She waved. "I'll cover your group tonight."

"I'll be back before group." Brendon reassured her and grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone from the desk. "Thanks!"

After the initial awkward moment of realizing this felt much more like a date than Spencer had intended, it was …perfectly comfortable. They talked easily, catching up on things with each other's families and about going to college. Brendon didn't seem surprised, as some of his other friends had been, by Spencer becoming a social worker. They talked about life and work, and neither attempted to avoid the obvious of Brendon's profession.

They wound up on the hill overlooking his high school football field, and the air was dusty, glowing orange after the dry wind of the day. They watched the track team practice in the distance, leaning on the side of Spencer's car.

"My mom never made us go to church. I mean, okay, that's not true. She totally blackmailed us into going sometimes because she's pure manipulative evil like that." He smirked and peeked at Brendon to make sure he caught the sarcasm. "But mostly she just talked about how much it meant to her. She'd talk about a conversation she had with Jesus just like she would about talking to Mrs. Benson next door – I told you she was crazy. I guess somewhere, some of it just stuck. Just not really the Bible-y parts."

Brendon chuckled. "The Bible-y parts?"

"Yeah. I mean, I believe in science, right? And intelligent design? Virgin birth, resurrection? That's just too much for me, man. I'm sorry."

Brendon was nodding, a faint trace of his smile still on his mouth though his brow was furrowed. "Do you believe any kind of miracle is possible?"

"I don't know." Spencer shrugged. "I guess?"

"Do you ever pray?"

"Um. I guess. Yeah." Spencer scratched at his arm and then behind his neck before sticking his thumbs firmly into his front pockets. If he didn't stop the nervous scratching, Brendon was going to think he had a skin condition.

"So you do believe in God?"

"I do." He let the statement settle for second and it felt okay. "I believe in God. Some God. A God. God-thing."

"What do you pray for?" Brendon sounded genuinely curious rather than like a pastor testing him.

Spencer kind of laughed. "I don't know. I pray for …" Spencer could feel a wave of warmth wash over his face. He wasn't used to being questioned about his spirituality, and it was embarrassing. People didn't just talk about stuff like that. He didn't, anyway. He'd got used to getting high with Ryan's group of friends, making jokes about sex, society and religion. Like no one else had ever pondered the mysteries of life before and they were all singularly edgy and intellectual.

They were stoned idiots, is what they were, and Brendon wasn't trying to be edgy with his question.

"I pray thanks for my family, I guess. That my sisters are safe at college. That I help my clients at work. That Blink-182 gets back together."

Brendon busted into snorting laughter, bending at the waist with it. Spencer liked the sound of it. He liked the pure happiness in Brendon's eyes and the way he reached out and put his hand on Spencer's forearm when he sat up again.

"You're fun to talk to, Spencer Smith. I remember that now."


"And hey, I think it's totally okay that you don't believe all the teachings of the church. Maybe someday you will? Or not. I still believe that God made you and saved us all, and whatever your path in the world is according to His design."


"Yeah." Brendon nodded, so sure of his declaration of Spencer's soul.

Spencer bumped him a little with his shoulder, just looking at him for a minute. Brendon was deeply earnest and unashamed of his beliefs. In any other person it would have made him a little embarrassed for them, uncomfortable, but instead his manner was comforting somehow. "You know, you're not like any pastor I've ever known before."

"Is that okay?" Brendon made a face, playful but unsure.

"Sure. You're cool." Spencer had nothing but Dr. Pepper to blame and he wasn't good at playing coy. "…And for the record, hot. I've never known any hot clergymen before."

Brendon went pink at the compliment and bit his lip, but there was something subtle and slightly leaning in his body language that told Spencer it was okay.

"Funny thing is, I don't really feel much like a pastor when I'm with you. Just feel like a regular guy. Sort of. That's nice for a change."

Brendon looked up at him then and didn't shy away from the eye contact.

"Yeah? Just a couple of old friends, then? On a sorta lame date?"

Brendon nodded and he definitely, definitely glanced at Spencer's mouth. "Not lame though…"

Spencer ducked his head, eyes on Brendon's mouth as he leaned forward, pausing just long enough to see Brendon take a breath and lean closer, too, and then kissed him. He didn't think anything of parting his lips to kiss him with an open mouth until Brendon made a surprised noise. He kissed Spencer back though, careful, but so sure that Spencer felt safe enough to shift a little closer, setting a hand on Brendon's waist. Brendon touched him, too, hands sliding up Spencer's arms at first and then back down before gripping his t-shirt with both fists at his sides.

"Is this okay?" Spencer asked. Brendon nodded, his eyes still closed and looking just a little frantic and... Okay. That was incredibly hot. He tugged and Spencer went, kissing him again. He let his hands slide around to splay over Brendon's back, so they were chest to chest. Brendon didn't loosen the grip he had on Spencer's shirt, making tiny moaning sounds with every other breath.

They made out like that for several minutes, Spencer petting his back for reassurance because he could feel the nervous tension in Brendon. Spencer shifted another half-step closer to let the front of his jeans press against Brendon. He gasped and quickly turned his head out of the kiss, folding slightly in on himself, gently pushing Spencer away.

"I'm sorry," Brendon said, wiping his lips, wet from Spencer's mouth.

"No it's..."

"Sorry, just. Oh, you make it so hard."

Spencer tried not to – he really did – but he snorted. "Aw, dude, you opened the door wide open for that one!"

Brendon looked up startled and then giggled, the strain on his face fading away. Spencer moved closer again, his hands safely above Brendon's elbows, and his obvious hard-on nowhere near him, just trying to be comforting. "I'm sorry. Do you have, like, rules? I'm good at rules, if you tell me. Because I like you and I kinda think you like me, too?"

"I do. Wow, Spence, you have no idea how much I like you."

"Yeah? See? So, so I'd like to go out with you again. Maybe go somewhere more discreet. Is that what's bothering you? Being out here like this?" He nodded towards the school.

Brendon shook his head and gave Spencer an almost pitying look. "Not more discreet, no."

"What?" Spencer sputtered, confused, because Brendon rushed him then with a hug and it was clingy and stiff like Brendon was saying goodbye. "What is it, then?"

He pulled away from Spencer, ran both hands through his hair, and began pacing.

"Okay, the thing is," he kept glancing at Spencer like he expected him to leave, "my work is my life. It never stops. Not on the clock, not on weekends. Not when I go home. Not in my sleep."

"Yeah. That's pretty serious shit, I get it."

"Serious shit," Brendon repeated under his breath, darkly amused and shaking his head. "Yeah, it is. And I don't have time or room in my life to just date. Casually. I mean, I want to be married someday, so obviously I have to date sometime, but it's really not worth someone putting up with me and my work if they aren't looking for something serious, too."

"Oh," Spencer said, and then "Oh" again as the weight of what Brendon said settled in. He was ordinarily really great at multi-tasking and thinking through consequences but he was still muddle-headed with wanting more kissing and missing Brendon looking at him like he was something special. The only thing Spencer could think of was, "I don't want to be married to a pastor," which of course he spoke aloud as he thought it.

He looked up in time to see Brendon mold the prettiest smile over the saddest face and Spencer felt like utter shit. "I understand," Brendon said, voice betraying nothing.

"No, Brendon, I'm-"

"No, it's okay. It's a big deal and it's not something you can ignore, so I... Maybe you could just take me back now?"

Spencer couldn't think of what to say to make it better because he didn't want to lie; he didn't want to say that he didn't care or that it wasn't a big deal because it was. And whatever else he was, he was honest. Spencer knew his brand of honesty could be cutting.

The drive back into town was quiet and they covered with playing the radio too loud, and when Spencer pointed out a newly built housing subdivision or shopping center, Brendon replied politely.

"Thanks for the soda," Brendon said when Spencer pulled in front of the church office. "Thanks for everything. I'm not sorry, you know? About…"

"Me neither. I'm not sorry, either, Brendon. I just..."

"No, hey, it's okay." Their hands met over the cup holder in the middle, squeezing friendly reassurance. "Just, if you still want to be friends, that'd be cool. 'Cause I still had fun."

"Shit yeah. Totally." Spencer winced, both because he wasn't sure if he was lying or not and wondering if he had to curtail the swearing.

Brendon looked no more convinced when he got out of the car and waved.


Spencer slipped into the last pew and listened to Pastor Abigail. "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus," she quoted and continued speaking about the Lord's acceptance. He appreciated the message and felt at ease by her voice to relax and look around the congregation.

There were all kinds of people here. Families, elderly couples, at first glance they looked like his mother's church: white, married, middle class suburban families, and everyone living the same life. But then he realized that not all the faces were alike. He worked at the community center enough to see that people from more than one walk of life were present and, regardless of outward appearance, had made this place their church home. He thought that if this church really embraced all of God's children like his mother always said was right, then maybe he could give them a chance.

He realized that they were bringing the service to an end when the worship band began playing quiet chords. Brendon stood up with Abigail from where he was sitting in the front row and they joined hands for closing prayer. When heads bowed, Brendon looked out and saw Spencer there. Abigail saw him, too, and patted Brendon's arm, both of them smiling when they began to pray. She included gratitude to the Lord for bringing them new friends and Spencer felt sure that they meant him.

Spencer stayed in the pew after the service finished. He listened to Brendon and Abigail talk with people in the lobby. They seemed to know everyone's names and treated them like friends. It was an easy vibe, comforting. He remembered feeling anxious to get home after services when he was young, listening to his mom trade passive-aggressive quips with Pastor Wayne about his sermon.

This was so different. Most people seemed to be staying for a potluck lunch and others were discussing their Sunday school classes. There was a sense of community here and he could see how people could be attracted to that, whether or not they believed everything that was in that book.

He had his legs stretched out and his arm over the seat back when Brendon finally slid in to sit next to him. He was close enough to be more familiar than professional but still looked wary.

"Hi. I wasn't expecting you – but it's good. I'm glad you came. Hi."

"Hi." Spencer hoped his smile looked genuine and he reached out, nudging Brendon's leg with his knuckles before pulling back again. "Yeah, I …I'm sorry I didn't call you this week. Work got busy and…" Okay, so lying probably wasn't appropriate. "Actually, I've been thinking about what you said."

There was a slightly awkward silence and Spencer knew it was on him to speak first here. Brendon had already been open about everything and was looking at him with big eyes and a patient expression that put Spencer at ease.

"Thing is, I left L.A. because I wanted to focus on a better life. I like my work and wanted to help people here at home. College was fun, with Ryan and our friends. A little wild sometimes and I dated a lot – I mean, um," he frowned and looked at Brendon with worry, "not a lot a lot, but just... Anyway, I just didn't want to keep living like that. I was getting burned out."

"That's good. Uh, that you made the change that you knew you should. Not that you were burned out."

"Yeah? Thanks. Um. So. I haven't had the purest past or anything, but I didn't date around a lot. I'm just not into that shit – sorry! Um. I also swear a lot and I'm not a Christian so I don't believe in sin but I know you do, and dude, I really don't want to date a pastor, but I do want to date you."

Brendon frowned slightly like he was taking in everything that Spencer had just said and must have decided it was acceptable because he slid close enough that his knee touched Spencer's. "I'm glad you came today." He put his hand over Spencer's and shifted to sit more comfortably, like he was going to stay awhile.
"I attended a workshop after I left seminary, one of those they set up for people in the ministry about handling their personal relationships, you know?"

Spencer shook his head. What did he know of ministry workshops?

"Oh. Well, those sorts of things are held all the time because everyone treats you so differently. It can be a little, like, lonely. But," he laughed quietly, eyes darting away, "we get warned about people wanting to date us because we're in Ministry. Like, uh, as a fetish."

Spencer laughed a little, feeling himself blush, too. "I get it. I can promise you I've never once fetishized a pastor before. I mean, not that I am now. Fetishizing. Oh, god. –Shit."

Brendon was sputtering into laughter now. "Wow, you are so bad at this!"

"I am! Sorry." Spencer turned his hand over and laced their fingers together. "Hey, wanna go out? Service is over, right? You can jump ship? Go get a drink? And I do mean beer, is that okay?"

Brendon giggled a little, looking at their hands, and squeezed. "I would seriously love to go get a beer. But, you want to come have lunch with everyone first? Meet some people?"

"Yeah. Okay, sure."

They stood up together and Spencer hoped it wasn't a sin to kiss (a pastor!) in church, he really didn't think it was, so he darted forward and pressed a quick kiss to Brendon's cheek back near his ear. The way Brendon stopped, pressed into it, and closed his eyes sighing afterwards, he didn't think Brendon thought it was a sin either.

Spencer grew up going to church with his mother. He was content to go along with her because he liked the walk, weather permitting (she always walked), and it sometimes got him out of dad's Sunday yard work and garage cleaning. Plus, there was always plenty of sticky red fruit punch and cookies. All in all, he didn't mind.

Then there was Catholic school because his parents thought the education was worth the expense, and Spencer had friends and the Catholics at least agreed on the fruit punch and cookies.

What he'd taken for a life's worth of considerable church experience had not prepared him for dating a pastor. His faith (or lack thereof) was freely inquired after, as were personal questions regarding his ambitions towards marriage. Brendon never apologized for this, though he watched with tense shoulders and bitten lip like he thought Spencer would crack from the heat any moment. Spencer would meet his quirked eyebrows with a fierce glare and a wink of his own. He wasn't a Five on the enneagram because he was easily intimidated.

[And so started their dating life. "Dating is a stupid word. What are we, characters from Boy Meets World?" "Ooh, you're totally Cory!" "Am not." "Are so. And I'm Topanga." "Hm. They didn't sleep together until their wedding night, either." "…What?" Once they realize how in love they are they begin planning their wedding.

Spencer meets Brendon's family and they are Very Nice people but he prefers dinner with his mom when she and Brendon banter a mile a minute and talk about scripture and God in that way that makes him wish all people of faith could be as generous and normal as they are.

To Spencer's dismay, Brendon really wants to embody the tenants of his faith and save sex for marriage. Spencer respects that, really, and he doesn't try to push the agreed upon boundaries, but when your fiancé is a virginal Brendon, it's not easy.]

Spencer was beginning to wonder if his days of going to Brendon's apartment after work every day were creating a new sense memory for him, like the way the smell of rain reminded him of skateboarding with Ryan the summer he turned eleven. All the houses in the neighborhood were cast in long, dark shadows and the loud chatter of birds at sunset would probably always remind him of the anticipation of seeing Brendon again.

He was half lost in thought about the paper he wrote on associative learning and sensory recall when he let himself into the apartment and just as he called out to Brendon, expecting to find him in the kitchen, he passed the open bathroom door and saw so much more of Brendon than he expected.

Clearly just finished with his shower, still standing in the tub, he scrubbed the end of his towel over his face. Spencer watched the water droplets running from Brendon's bare shoulder, along his bare ribs to his slender bare hips and then down to his bare pale thighs. Bare, bare, all of him. And wet.

"Oh." Brendon blinked. "Um, hi?" He smiled a little and, to his credit, only looked mildly nonplussed at having Spencer gawp him while naked, the towel he held to his chest covering his middle down to his knees. "Am I running late?" he asked as though talking to Spencer and being naked at the same time was a normal thing.

"No. No, you're gorgeous - great, I mean. You're fine. I'm early. And I'll just…" Spencer thumbed in the direction of the patio but his feet didn't get the message.

"I won't be much longer," Brendon said, and after another moment of silence from Spencer, who hadn't stopped staring, he smirked, shy and a little wary, his shoulder tensing up just a bit. "Just have to get dressed."

Brendon nodded and finally a blush spread down his neck and across his chest. So pretty.

"Right. Take your time." Spencer felt oxygen flood his brain again as he took a breath and finally found his feet.

Ten minutes later, Brendon met him in the courtyard behind his apartment where Spencer was looking too near the sun, making himself see spots as the sky streaked a pink and orange sunset. Brendon stood behind him, hands settling lightly at Spencer's waist while a tentative kiss was pressed between his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Spencer said, not moving. "I'll go back to knocking on your front door. Hope I didn't …I hope you're not gonna beat yourself up about that. You didn't do anything wrong. I shouldn't have – but I didn't even mean to, honest."

He would have babbled on further if he hadn't felt Brendon laughing, pressing his face into Spencer's back and slipping his hands around him in a comforting squeeze. "Spence, chill out, holy cow. It was just an accident."

Spencer finally groaned out his relief and frustration, letting himself lean back into Brendon. "Oh, thank god. Seriously. 'Cause I'm sorry but you know what? You? Are hot. You are. I know I wasn't supposed to see and I mean it, I really am sorry about that, but I am so freakin' smug about getting to marry you."

Brendon took him by the hand, laughing and looking a little smug himself, and they walked across the park to eat dinner in the church kitchen. Between the Meals on Wheels service and the constant streaming potluck provided by the study groups and activities held every evening, there was never a shortage of food. They sat across the table from each other, ankles crossed together under the table, chaperoned by the comings and goings of the parishioners. Most evenings were like this, spent working together with one of the groups or on a picnic blanket in the park between Brendon's apartment and the church annex, in plain view of everyone. When they stayed inside Brendon's apartment watching movies or playing games, they were still on display with the blinds left open. "Like we're in a people aquarium," Spencer joked, only a little exasperated.

Rarely alone but often together, Spencer went on retreats and missions, too. They rebuilt a house in New Orleans and a schoolroom in Peru. They spent a weekend in California taking the graduating high school seniors to Disneyland and the beach. Brendon, apparently, could surf.

"How the h – how do you know how to surf?" Spencer asked, looking up at a dripping Brendon from the security of his beach towel. He'd taken the first shift of chaperoning the teens on the beach while Brendon rented boards with the rest of the group.

"Seriously, Pastor B, I thought you were full of it when you said you could surf."

"I wouldn't lie, Jenny!" Brendon protested with a smile. "I went surfing in Hawaii on vacation with my family. When I was fifteen. Guess I just remembered how." He shrugged, shook water from his hair, and took a drink from Spencer's water bottle.

"Here's your towel," Jenny said, making room on blanket next to her for him to sit.

Spencer knew Jenny had raging crush on Brendon and while he wasn't crazy about their beach day giving her opportunity to stare at him in nothing but swim trunks all day, it also let Spencer stare at him in nothing but swim trunks all day. So. He just smirked instead.

"What?" Brendon asked, catching Spencer's look.



Spencer laughed a little. "You should put on sunblock."

"Oh, I have some!" Jenny produced a bottle. Spencer covered a smile with his hand by scratching through his beard.

"Thanks." Brendon took it and began applying it in sloppy streaks over his arms and face as he addressed the group. "So, you guys! Pizza later, right? Then do you want to catch that movie? Or do the boardwalk instead?" Neither Spencer nor Jenny was participating in the planning session; Spencer was watching Jenny watch Brendon. He was completely unaware of the effect rubbing lotion-slick hands over his arms, shoulders, neck, and chest had on people around him. A thick smear of white remained over one nipple, drawing the eye to it and making Spencer's hand twitch to rub it in.

"Your back is gonna burn, Pastor," Jenny stated in an even voice, taking the bottle from his hand. Jenny was nice girl, ambitious and smart, and had volunteered in the church office all through high school. Spencer knew that Brendon had grown accustomed to her casual presence but Spencer saw Brendon blink slowly at the realization that he was looking back at a young woman who was more adult than he'd yet noticed.

"You know what? You're right." Brendon answered evenly. "I should just put on a shirt probably. Thanks!" He scrambled right over top of Spencer to the bag of clothes, kicking sand everywhere and pulling on a t-shirt as quickly as he could. He gave Spencer eyes and then shoved on a pair shades. Jenny shrugged and joined the others calling her into the water. The senior boys in the group hadn't neglected to notice that Jenny was a grown woman.

Brendon cleared his throat. "Was she just?"

"Uh, huh." Spencer replied, not caring if he sounded smug.

"But she's-"


"And I'm-"

"Doesn't matter."

"Did I do something?"

"Besides be hot? No, Brendon. You don't have to do anything for people to notice you. Seriously, I'm dying here." Spencer bent his knee in a casual way and put a hand subtly over his dick. He wasn't actually hard, he had that much control, but making Brendon look and gasp all flustered was still fun.

"Shut up." Brendon pushed him. "Mean," he accused and moved in for a quick kiss.

"Just honest," he answered, licking his lips. "Mm, salty."

"You are going to play Frisbee with me!" Brendon changed the topic like he always did when he was getting horny.

"What? And watch you run and jump around on the beach? Oh, hell yeah."

Brendon laughed a little too loud and kind of tackle-hugged Spencer, quickly pressing his face against Spencer's arm before running off, Frisbee in hand.

If they had been any other couple, the retreats and missions they went on would have provided perfect opportunities for stealing away private time together, except that they never did. They never shared a room, cabin, or tent. They never let themselves do anything they already didn't do at home, but they made memories together, sharing the adventure of new people and places.

At home, they fell back into routine chaos, where Spencer spent all his time not spent at work with Brendon at the church, often being 'voluntold' into leading one of the groups.

"Have you explained to them that just because we're engaged doesn't mean I'm qualified?" Spencer said one such evening before classes when he'd snagged Brendon for a few quiet minutes in his office.

"What do you mean?" Brendon said, reluctantly pulling his cheek from where it was resting against Spencer's neck to look up at him. "You're educated, well informed, well spoken, you have natural leadership skills and… Well, you did say you went to Vacation Bible School every summer."

"Well, thanks." Spencer rolled his eyes at the VBS comment. "But I'm not a Christian and I'm no expert on the Bible or whatever."

Brendon smirked. "That would be why you're never asked to lead a Bible study, Spence, good grief."

"Just saying. I don't want to be misleading."

"Hey, you're helping. And we really appreciate it. I appreciate it." He pressed a slow, closed-mouth kiss to Spencer's lips. "Even when it's just helping the teens make snacks for the preschool class."

"Oh, is that what I'm doing tonight?"

Brendon nodded, giving him a huge, winning smile as if to convince Spencer he was receiving the greatest of gifts.

Spencer snorted and rolled his eyes. "Fine. The teens I can handle."

"They think you're cool."

"Oh, whatever. Anyone over twenty-one is old to them."

"Lies and falsehoods." Brendon retorted, gathering his Bible and notes for his group. "You are actually cool."

"You owe me!" Spencer said, waving as he headed towards the kitchen.

"My whole life!" Brendon shouted back.

Spencer could hear him singing to himself as he went.

He really didn't mind working with the teens. They were fearless and didn't mind if Spencer accidentally forgot himself and swore or laughed at dirty innuendo. He didn't have to say 'That's what she said' for them to know that he still thought it.

Most of the parishioners his age were either married or dating, not to mention straight, and he didn't feel like he fit in with any of them. He couldn't shake the feeling that they didn't fit in. He and Brendon weren't living together as a married couple (weren't having sex! his mind supplied unnecessarily) though he was willing to own that maybe some of that was his hang up and not theirs. He didn't think the dating couples were comfortable around them because Brendon was their pastor and, as well liked as Brendon was, they were skittish when he was around as though their commitment to chastity was always in question. That was also maybe more Spencer's issue than theirs, but still. The point, Spencer reminded himself, was that working with the teens was fun.

Tonight's case in point, he scavenged the cupboards and was relieved with what he found. He hardly believed that the hour and a half had gone by when Brendon wandered into kitchen, nearly run over by David Mitten chasing a squealing Tiffany Zucker around the room.

"Wow, what is it?" Brendon asked, looking at the detritus spread over every available surface.

"Mud Cups."

"What?" he asked, sidling up close to Spencer and surveying the damage.

"Pastor Brendon, I'm sorry, but your fiancé is disgusting. Just so you know," Jenny said.

"He is. I totally agree. I'm thinking about calling the whole thing off."

"Hey." Spencer hip-checked him.

"Hey yourself. Why are you so disgusting, anyway?"

"We made Mud Cups for the preschool class. You know," Spencer picked one up to show, "chocolate pudding with crushed Oreo and coco powder for dirt and gummy worms stuck inside."

"That's so cool."

"It's so gross, you mean!" Tiffany protested in the loudly self-assured but utterly fake way that Spencer had grown accustomed to from her. "Dirt and bugs for a snack? Ew."

"They will like it and you know it. Besides, kids are gross. And besides-besides: yum!" Spencer licked pudding right out of the cup he was holding. Spencer caught Brendon's eyes fixed on him and then go wide as he stuck his tongue deep into the clear plastic cup. Spencer raised an eyebrow and Brendon quickly looked away.

"You guys! Stop eating them," Tiffany protested and swatted people away.

She and the other teens stacked tray after tray of gummy-insect filled puddings into the refrigerator and when they finally left -"It's a school night, go do your homework already!" - cramming seven teenagers into an old Nissan Sentra -"I'm not even going to think about how illegal that is!" - they were left in a ringing silence.

"Lord, please see those kids home safe," Brendon sighed, shaking his head with a smile as he shut the door.

Spencer reiterated the prayer to the universe with a silent amen. "Hey, so, it's okay, right? It's not actually too gross or whatever?"

"What? No, you did great! You helped the teens and the preschoolers tonight. And more importantly, the teens got to do something for the little ones. Win-win."

"Cool. Good to know three gallons of chocolate pudding makes the world a better place. Taste?" He swiped a dollop from the cup in his hand onto his finger and offered it. Brendon opened his mouth and they both seemed to realize the moment Brendon's mouth closed over the tip just how provocative it was. Brendon closed his eyes and sucked. Spencer saw his cheeks bloom pink before he pulled his mouth off. He liked thinking that Brendon was imagining sucking him just as much as Spencer was.

"Um. More?" he offered hopefully, innocently. Brendon wanted, he could tell; the way his chest expanded, swallowing and licking his lips, looking like he was preparing to open them again.

Brendon hummed a non-committal noise. Spencer couldn't tell if it was in favor of the pudding or of the sucking. Regardless, Spencer had already swiped more onto his fingertip and put it to Brendon's mouth. Brendon looked at it, smirking and reluctant, still working his mouth like he was going to protest but instead he opened again. Spencer stepped closer, grinning, while Brendon sucked the chocolate off his fingertip. He turned his hand over so the pad curved up into the roof of Brendon's mouth and let it linger still for a moment.

Brendon made a growly sound and snorted a quiet laugh, gripping both hands into Spencer's stomach as he turned his head away.

"Spencer," he admonished, laughing and tickling at Spencer. Spencer dipped his head to kiss him, tasting chocolate on his tongue before he pulled back.

"Sorry. Tastes good though."


And just like that, Spencer was inappropriately hard in the church kitchen again, just like he'd been so many times before. This self control thing was not getting any easier. In fact, it seemed to be getting harder. Harder. Ha. No joke.

They stood together in an embrace that cooled to companionable rather than arousing, calming themselves.

"Want help cleaning up?" Brendon asked.

"Some company at least. Thanks."

Spencer sighed and turned to the sink, putting a hand down his jeans to resituate himself.


Brendon had developed a substantially gross runny nose when he woke up on a Monday, which progressed to fever and general misery for the rest of the week. Spencer went over every evening after work like he always did, only to throw out a blizzard of used tissues littered around the house, dole out a small pharmacy of meds which Brendon didn't even question, and make sure he had a bottle of water by his bed. Brendon was a snoring, snotty mess by 7:30. Spencer kissed his sweaty forehead and let himself out, heart heavy and mind frustrated at leaving him alone like that.

Brendon was well enough by Saturday to pull himself together for the weekend services and got through Sunday duties looking like his usual self, save for a slightly red nose.

"You," Brendon said, pulling Spencer in the door on Monday night. "Come in here and kiss me! Missed you, missed you, missed you." Brendon's words muffled against Spencer's mouth between kisses. "Thanks for making sure I didn't die."

"You dying would be totally counterintuitive to my plans. Don't make me out to be some kind of humanitarian."

They laughed together, maybe more than the joke warranted, but it helped them put the brakes on the kissing, always so difficult to stop once they'd begun.

Spencer still appreciated the intimacy, nudging his nose against Brendon's, resting forehead to forehead and just being close. It was definitely more than 'what they would do in public', which was the general standard they set, but Spencer felt it was okay just for a few moments. He was just catching his breath and starting to relax again when he realized that Brendon was still tense, still breathing deep and licking his lips. Looking down at the slight space between them, he could see that Brendon was hard in his jeans. It sure wasn't the first time Spencer had seen it but they usually just laughed it off, ignored it and distracted themselves. Brendon though, was clinging.

"Hey," Spencer started, "hey, um, do you want to go over to the church and-?" but he was cut off when Brendon tilted his head up and kissed him again.

Spencer kept his hands steadfast at Brendon's waist while Brendon wrapped his hands around the back of his neck. Spencer kissed him back, parting his mouth slightly. This was more intense than usual and he fucking loved knowing that Brendon wanted him, knowing that he had the same struggles with this current state of abstinence that Spencer did.

Brendon pressed himself closer and only Spencer's grip kept their hips apart. He didn't have much more resolve left and Brendon whimper-gasping against his mouth nearly disintegrated the last of it, but what he lacked in personal conviction against non-marital sex, he made up for in determination. He'd agreed to wait until they were married for Brendon damn it, and he wasn't about to waste all the careful months they'd avoided this so far.

Spencer slid one hand gently up Brendon's side and around to the front. "Bren." He was going to push him away – he was being good! – except that his hand brushed over Brendon's nipple. He could feel it through his shirt, raised hard and small and Spencer had no intention whatsoever of touching again but his thumb, without any kind of permission from his brain, stroked it. Brendon sucked in a breath, went rigid, bowed slightly and then unmistakably came right where he stood.

Spencer froze, hands digging in, holding Brendon in place, not sure of what to do next. He was so desperately turned on and now he was fucking guilt ridden, struck dumb by the surprised expression on Brendon's face. He watched Brendon close his eyes and take a deep breath, satisfaction flickering across his sweet face for only a moment before it was overtaken by a sheepishness that was equally endearing.

"Sorry," Spencer said softly, practically a whisper. "Brendon, I'm sorry, I only meant to-"

"Shh. Spence." Brendon smiled with only a hint of sadness, putting his fingers over Spencer's mouth. He touched Spencer's lips for another distracted moment before pulling himself away. "I think I'll go change. And, um, then maybe we could," he paused to shiver and take a breath, "walk over to the Annex and see if the evening classes could use a hand?"

"Yeah. Totally. We can do that." Spencer agreed apologetically, trying to shake himself into coherence. "I happen to know there's spaghetti left over from Movie Night in the big fridge."

"Okay. Sounds perfect."

Spencer watched Brendon go to his room and shut the door behind him before pressing his palm against his erection. The frustration in him went through three cycles of anger and rationality before Brendon came back.

"Hey, love you," Spencer said when he took his hand.

Brendon looked at him, a little surprised, a little embarrassed still, but he stopped and then hugged him. There wasn't any passion to it and any number of people in the parking lot or looking out windows could see them. It was just a hug. "Love you, too. I'm just glad that…"

Brendon didn't finish his sentence, just smiled and shook his head but he didn't need to. Spencer was just glad, too.


Spencer was being a responsible grown up rather than running off to see his boyfriend after work. "I can't figure out how this place gets so dirty. I'm never even here," he told Brendon over the phone. "But I'll be over when I have clothes that don't smell."

"Hey, you should tell me when I'm being a self-absorbed jerk," Brendon said forty-five minutes later, strolling into Spencer's apartment and pinning him against the open door of the refrigerator. Arms outstretched with paper towels and a spray bottle in his hands didn't keep Spencer from kissing him back.

"You're not a self-absorbed. I just, I just, god." It was difficult to talk when Brendon was kissing his neck, which wouldn't last long. It never went further than a few wet kisses along his jugular before Brendon stopped.

"I just have to do laundry, is all," Spencer said, blinking at Brendon when he finally pulled away, leaning back against the counter and looking glassy-eyed himself.

"Yeah, so, I came to help you. I can clean."

"Are you sure about that? Not all of us get free housecleaning from the Neighborhood Outreach ladies," he teased. One of the perks of being pastor was weekly housekeeping from the church's aide group, mostly the retired PTA moms who brought meals and cleaned for families with new babies or members recovering from surgery and the elderly.

Spencer teased him mercilessly for it.

"Shut up. I know how to clean. I do." Brendon kicked at him. Spencer kicked back.

"Yeah? We'll see. Hey, you wanna have a romantic cleaning date?" He toggled his spray bottle in something like an enticing manner. "I'll cook, there's chicken in the freezer."

"Sweet. You're a domestic succubus, Spencer Smith."

Brendon actually didn't clean, but he did do Spencer's laundry. He was sorting his clothes, still warm from the dryer, into piles on the couch while Spencer cooked. He was folding a pair of Spencer's boxer-briefs when Spencer said, "I knew you just wanted to get into my pants," which earned him a face full of cotton when Brendon sling-shot them at his head. A wrestling match ensued that began with some kind of goal of shoving underwear onto the other's head, because they were mature like that, and ended with Spencer on top of Brendon, pressed flush together. Spencer felt so happy, so content and comfortable with him that he allowed himself to chase that feeling, pressing down for friction and grunting happily against Brendon's tongue.

"Spence. No, c'mon, get up," Brendon gasped, pushing at Spencer's shoulders. "Gotta stop." Brendon sounded put upon, annoyed, and for a fleeting selfish moment, Spencer was, too. Pissed off by the denial of what felt so good and then immediately felt guilty for it.

"Damn it," he hissed under his breath, flopping onto his back, grinding his palms over his eyes.

"Are you angry?" Brendon asked defensively.

"Can't I just? - Argh!" Spencer grumbled as he glared at the ceiling. He rubbed one hand over his erection that was bent and aching in his jeans and then scrubbed both hands over his face again. "Can I just be horny and frustrated and not be angry at you about it? Can that just, be? Okay?"

Spencer only looked at Brendon out his peripheral vision but he could tell his face was drawn tight, torn between hurt and frustration, too.

"Sure. You can. I'm…" Brendon stopped short of apologizing. He wasn't going to apologize for doing what he believed was right and Spencer didn't expect him to.

They discussed and debated all the time but rarely ended like this. It was unnerving having hurt feelings, disappointment, and resentment. It felt like it meant they were over. The end. It wasn't logical but it was scary.

"Brendon?" he said feebly, not knowing what else to do.

He came back over and squeezed Spencer's hand. "Hey, we're still having dinner, right?"

"Yeah." He stood, holding Brendon's hand and pressed the side of his face to Brendon's, careful to keep some distance between their bodies. "If you don't mind staying?"

"I don't mind." He pressed back, his cheek sliding against Spencer's beard.

Spencer thought maybe this was how it was, that being love meant trusting each other when you were in a bad mood, too, not just the good ones.

They watched a DVD and when it finished, it played all through the credits and was looping the menu over and over, but neither of them wanted to get up. They were very much not making out. Just, maybe, what Spencer thought more of as 'actively hugging'. Spencer propped back against the arm of the couch, Brendon's face against his collarbone, while Spencer stroked the back of his neck and into his hair.

"Can't wait to sleep with you," he murmured into Brendon's hair.

Brendon snorted a laugh but didn't move.

"I don't mean like that. Or, well. Okay. But I meant sleeping, though. The whole brushing our teeth, changing into pajamas, and tucking into bed thing. And just staying like this all night." Spencer tightened his embrace and twisted his neck to kiss him.

"Do you wear actual pajamas?" Brendon sat up a little, smirking. "'Cause I'm totally picturing you in my dad's pajamas, like from Sears with the pinstripes and a collar?"

"No.. I was being figurative. I usually just sleep in my underwear and whatever t-shirt I have on."

"Hmm, I can picture that." Brendon's eyes roamed, obviously picturing him and then leaned close again, reclaiming his spot against Spencer's chest with a sigh. "I don't wear pajamas either." His voice was half-muffled.

"What then?"


Spencer groaned, imagining skin under his hands, and was immediately half hard. "Well, shit," he grumbled, making them both laugh while Spencer shifted the arrangement happening in his pants.

"It's late anyway," Brendon said, giving him a kiss before moving to the other end of the couch. Spencer turned off the TV and put their dinner dishes in the sink while Brendon put on his shoes and checked his voicemail.

"Damn it," Brendon swore, not a terribly common occurrence. "Damn! Spence, the church was broken into. Neighbor called the police."

Spencer didn't ask anything more, just said, "Let's go," and grabbed his keys.

Abigail was already there when they arrived, as were two squad cars, their radio chatter cutting across the quiet hot evening air.

"Sorry, sorry! I'm sorry. I should have been here," Brendon said as he approached. Spencer tried not to resent the irony that the rare evening they spent at Spencer's apartment rather than at Brendon's just across from the property was when they'd get robbed.

Spencer stood aimlessly for a moment, watching a big guy with a little French bulldog on a leash finishing his conversation with another officer.

"You're the one who called the cops?"

"Yeah. Well, I noticed the broken glass, saw the door open." He extended a meaty hand to Spencer. "Name's Zack. Me and Stella were on our walk. Feel like shit for not noticing sooner. I like the pastors."

"Do you know them? You know Brendon?"

"Yeah. When we moved in, they brought over coffee and doughnuts. Whole little move-in basket with like, soap and toilet paper. Shit like that's appreciated. They're good neighbors."

Spencer tried not to laugh or look incredulous while trying to make sense out of the giant of a man covered in tattoos before him, doting on his tiny dog and being excited over a housewarming basket put together by the senior ladies in the Neighborhood Outreach group.

"So, you and the good pastor, right?"

Spencer stopped short at that. "Oh. Um, yeah. We're engaged – how'd you know?"

"You showed up together just now. And …well, me and Stella here, we go for a walk every night. Pretty sure I've seen you in the parking lot behind the annex."

Spencer thought back to all the nights that Brendon walked him to his car, kissing goodnight, Spencer holding Brendon's face in his hands, stroking his neck and hair. It had become the most intimate way they could touch each other that was permissible, except that it wasn't just settling for what they could do, he really loved touching Brendon's face.

He felt himself flush in the dark, imagining what they must have looked like to Zack. But he owned it. "Yeah. That would have been us."

Brendon finished talking to the cops and he walked straight up to Zack and hugged him. Zack didn't look nearly as put off as Spencer would have expected, he just pounded Brendon's back with the thumb-side of his fist in a return hug.

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, God bless you!"

"It's, nah, but thanks. Hey, dude."

Brendon finally stepped back and Spencer realized how shaken and small he looked crossing his arms over his chest and a deep crease between his brows.

"Hey, are you okay?" Spencer asked, moving close enough to put a hand on the back of his neck.

Brendon nodded and tried to give a smile but it disappeared immediately. He turned slightly inwards towards Spencer.

"They stole the two air conditioners from the preschool rooms. A computer monitor, a cd player and …I just… If they'd needed something, we could helped, you know? We could have…"

"No, no. Listen to me," Zack cut in. "They don't need no help. They're thieving pieces of shit who steal from good people. They don't need any fucking charity. What they need is a swift kick in the balls."

Brendon smiled though he tried not to, looking reluctant. "You sound like Spencer."

"Yeah?" Zack gave Spencer an appraising look. "Well, my man knows how it is then. You're too good to see the shit in people's eyes. But Spencer here knows."

Something like that probably shouldn't have been a compliment but it felt like one anyway.


Continue to Part 2
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.

August 2012

567 891011
121314151617 18

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 22nd, 2017 04:15 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios