livejournal fics//joncer

Part Two

  *

Jon manages to make it through the next few days without Tom accosting him about the date or how things are going, but he can't escape when Tom corners him in Starbucks, Cassie behind the counter and smiling whenever she glances at Jon, like she knows or something.

Tom has a caramel macchiato and doesn't let Jon gaze out the window even as his phone vibrates with a text message.

"Ah ah," Tom says, snatching the phone from his grip as he pulls it out.

"Tom!" Jon protests, but Tom holds it out of reach and has an evil grin on his face as he reads the message.

"Oh ho, looks like someone has a crush."

"Give it back," Jon says, reaching, but Tom pulls it away, eyes glinting deviously.

"Oh come on, Jonny boy. You've been depriving me of details about this sordid affair from the beginning."

Jon sends him a look and rolls his eyes, but he knows he's going to have to tell Tom eventually. He is his best friend after all.

"Why don't we talk about that girl you hit on at the club instead? I'm sure Keltie would be happy to know about that."

"No need to get snippy," Tom says, but Jon knows he's concerned. "Besides, I was drunk, and nothing happened. You, on the hand, you have been texting this guy almost constantly. Has he put out yet?"

Rolling his eyes, Jon tugs the phone back while Tom is distracted. He doesn't bother to read Spencer's text as he stuffs it back in his pocket.

"That's kind of how it started, remember?" Jon says, sighing. He doesn't know why discussing this with Tom is so hard. Usually it's easy; Tom ribs him for a little while but in the end tells him he's happy for him and that's that.

"Tom." Cassie interrupts their conversation, appearing at their high table and leaning an elbow on it. "Are you being a nuisance?"

"Never," Tom assures her, but Jon just sighs.

Cassie glances at him, and then smiles sweetly, placing a hand on his arm. "Jon is happy with Spencer, right?"

Jon frowns. "I don't even know him that well. We've been on one date."

"And he only kissed you goodnight, didn't he?" Tom asks. "What a prude."

"Tom," Jon repeats again sternly, and Tom shrugs innocently.

"What? I don't get how you can have a relationship when he can't talk and you can't sign."

"He uses other things," Jon argues, but Tom just waves him away.

"I don't know," he says dismissively. "Sex would be hard, wouldn't it?"

"I don't really want to talk about it," Jon replies instead, growing weary of the conversation. Luckily, Cassie is watching him and jumps in.

"I'm sure it's fine," she assures him. "Tom, stop being so mean."

"I'm not being mean," Tom argues, taking a sip of his coffee and turning to her. "Just asking a question."

"Asking imprudent questions," Cassie supplies with a hard look, and Jon is glad when they start to bicker and he is left to wonder the same things to himself in silence.

*

The ringer wakes him up, not as sharp or shrill as normal, probably since the phone is stuffed under his pillow for that very reason. It's always loud, almost too loud, and he wonders if he might go deaf from the phone too. He keeps it on, though, and under his pillow just in case of an emergency. Not that there would be any emergency that Ryan or Brendon couldn't take the time to walk down the hall and wake him up. Spencer's door is never locked and his phone is always on. He reminds himself to put it on vibrate later.

Wincing away from the bright screen, he slides the phone out from under the pillow.

how does sex work?

Blinking, Spencer is sure he's misread it somehow and fumblingly types in a response.

*

Jon lies in bed, the phone clutched in his hand as he ignores Dylan's scratching at the door. He isn't sure what possessed him to send that particular message, but it's too late now.

He's been thinking for a few days on what Tom said, and he knows it's stupid because, well, they've already been together, and Spencer is pretty awesome. So he doesn't know why he can't get over Tom's questions.

The phone vibrates in his hand and he nearly drops it. Telling himself to calm down, he reads the message, glowing blue into the dark room.

ur parents never taught u about the birds and the bees? it reads and Jon can't help smiling, feeling a slight weight lift off his chest.

Rolling over, he curls up on his side, holding the phone up.

yeah but they left out the part where the other guy is really hot, Jon types back, smiling to himself. He shouldn't let Tom get to him. Spencer is an awesome guy, whether or not he can talk.

yeah? Ur not so bad urself. maybe ur cute.

Jon smiles. I am. what do u say to that?

The pause is longer this time and Jon sighs, slipping down under his warm covers. Quietly, he watches the dark screen of his phone, barely visible in the darkness of his room. His curtain is shut, although he normally lets it drape whatever way it wants. Dylan likes to curl up on the windowsill on cool nights which makes the curtain always fall half open. But Dylan isn't in the room, and outside, it's too cold to have the window open.

It's late and Jon knows he shouldn't even be texting this late because he has to be up early for a client meeting, but he lays there, his eyes drifting shut slowly until the vibrating phone shakes him awake.

I say... Im lying in my bed thinking of u now.

Blinking, Jon wonders if that means what he thinks it means. Thinking carefully, he types slowly.

do I make for good thoughts?

very good.

Swallowing, Jon pauses. It's harder over text since he can't hear the tone, the way the words are meant to sound, but licking his lips slowly, he thinks he knows how Spencer would sound.

so do u, he types carefully. what are u doing?

Setting the phone down on the edge of his pillow, he takes a minute to slip his hand down, rubbing over his stomach lightly. He closes his eyes, picturing Spencer somewhere across town, lying in his own dark bed, the curtains drawn, and his phone by his side.

touching myself. Say u r too.

Biting his lip, Jon slides his hand down, fingers plucking at the waist of his boxers. Fumbling for the phone, he punches in the letters one by one.

yeah fuck.

Long sentences just aren't going to work when he slides his hand down, gripping his cock and stroking once. He isn't quite hard yet, but thinking about Spencer doing the same thing is working pretty well.

i thnk abot u alot, comes Spencer's response, words cramped together and hastily written, maybe one-handed, Jon thinks with a groan as he strokes himself again.

ur mouth.

Groaning, Jon closes his eyes, spreading his legs further apart and burying his face in the pillow to stifle a moan. He feels his phone vibrate, though, and twists up.

ur hands.

Spencer's texts are short and Jon can just imagine what Spencer is doing, what he might look like. Grabbing his phone, Jon can't type fast enough.

what r u dng? tell me.

The response time is longer, and Jon just bites his cheek as he pumps again, fist tightening over his cock. He wants to know what Spencer is doing, what he's thinking about. He bets his cheeks are flushed red and he's panting into his pillow, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but too loud in the quiet room. Jon wonders just how much noise Spencer can make.

fingers, is Spencer's response, short and hasty. i want ur hands ur body n me im naked in bed fingers inside fuck.

"Fuck," Jon whispers at Spencer's words, pumping hard over his throbbing cock, wishing it were Spencer, remembering that first time in the car when Spencer hadn't been hesitant in the least, had just let him take over. He remembers burning blue eyes and hips that wouldn't quit.

He won't deny that he wants to do it again, maybe somewhere that won't leave a door handle impression on his back.

As he strokes harder, thumb dragging over the head of his cock and he groans, he forgets to text back. The vibration of the phone grabs his attention and he reaches for it with his free hand, panting a little and hating the awkwardness of all this.

jon? is the message and Jon thinks, fuck it.

Flipping open the phone, he hits the send button. He doesn't hear any words, but the phone clicks and he hears heavy breathing in the receiver.

"Spencer," he whispers, his voice thick and rough with want, and he barely bites back his groan as he twists his hand. "God, I want you," he mumbles into the receiver, hearing Spencer's pants on the other end, the rustle of sheets, and maybe he imagines it, but the slick slide of skin against skin. "I want to touch you, to feel you against me. I want it to be like the first time and not like that at all. Fuck, I just want-I want, I want to find your office and lock the door, push you up against your desk and tear off your shirt. Would you like that? Knowing we could get caught at any moment, I think you would."

Jon's hand moves faster and his breaths are heavier. He can hear Spencer panting into the phone, breath muffled against the receiver, hear what sounds like a strained whine, a sound working against his vocal chords.

"Yeah," Jon gasps, pulling harder, cursing as he feels the tight coiling of heat building up, tensing in his stomach as his hand moves faster. "Yeah, you'd like that. You'd like me being there, pressing my fingers into you so that you're pushing back, wanting more. Are you doing that now, Spence? Does it feel good? Fuck, I wish you were here right now."

Jon isn't really listening as his hips jerk forward into his grip and he comes with a muffled curse and Spencer's name slurred on his lips. The phone slips from his ear for a second and his eyes flutter shut as his body jerks a little, his hand covered in warm and sticky liquid.

"Shit," he mumbles as he lays there, eyes closed and listening now to Spencer's heavy breath on the other end.

When Spencer comes seconds later, Jon can hear the sharp intake of breath, the sound working hard to escape.

"Spence," Jon mutters as he listens to Spencer panting harshly.

Then there's a click and Jon opens his eyes. The call has been ended. Sighing, he rolls over, removing his hand and letting his eyes drift shut.

He's nearly asleep when the phone vibrates with a new text message.

Grabbing the phone, Jon reads the screen and smiles, tucking the phone out of sight and falling sleep not long after.

i want you too.

*

Spencer wakes up naked with his phone pressed under his pillow. The covers are warm and he doesn't want to move even when he hears Brendon rummaging around in the kitchen, probably attempting another breakfast that will end with a trip out for pancakes.

Groping for his phone, Spencer flips it open and switches to his saved text messages. The ones from Jon are still there labeled, message from: Jon, 10/25 1:31 AM.

Smiling slowly, Spencer rolls over and stretches luxuriously. Outside his window, he can see the sky that is grey and mottled, threatening the rain that the weather man has been promising for days. But nothing can dampen Spencer's mood as he rolls out of bed and pulls on the nearest pair of boxers before padding down the hall to the kitchen where he isn't surprised to see Brendon there, wearing the cherry-patterned apron while Ryan watches dubiously.

"You're going to burn the house down," Ryan is saying as Spencer approaches silently.

"I am not," Brendon replies simply, rolling his eyes. "That was one time and we put it out."

Ryan's rolled eyes aren't as mean as they are resolved, and Spencer catches the tiny smile on his lips after Brendon has turned away.

Brendon heads for the fridge, but stops as he catches sight of Spencer leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed over his bare torso.

"Spencer!" he cries, bounding over and enveloping him in his usual early morning hug. Spencer is in just a good enough mood that he doesn't push him away when he squeezes too hard.

Morning, he signs, heading for the coffee pot that's already brewing, percolating into the silence.

He can feel Ryan's eyes on his back as he pours himself a cup.

"Why are you so happy?" Ryan asks when Spencer reaches for the sugar.

Spencer only rolls his eyes and keeps his back turned as he bites back his grin. Ryan wouldn't understand.

Adding milk, he stirs his coffee slowly, turning back around. Ryan is watching him suspiciously and ignoring Brendon, who is rummaging in the cupboards and making pained noises whenever he hits his head.

"So who called late last night?" Ryan asks finally and Spencer stops with his cup halfway to his mouth.

What? he signs instead, juggling the coffee out of the way while Ryan crosses his arms.

"I heard your phone go off more than once, really late last night."

Well, my family does live across the country, Spencer points out with an arched eyebrow, but he knows Ryan won't buy it.

"They don't call at one in the morning," Ryan replies sharply and Spencer sighs.

What do you care who calls me in the middle of the night? he asks. It's none of Ryan's business, and he isn't going to bring Spencer down from the night before.

Sipping his coffee and burning his tongue, he winces and sets it down on the counter carefully while Ryan watches him through narrowed eyes.

"It was Jon, wasn't it?" he asks.

So what if it was?

"I liked Jon," Brendon pipes up, trying to diffuse what is quickly heading towards argument grounds. "He was cool."

Spencer nods around his coffee cup while Ryan glares.

"I don't like Jon."

Why not? Spencer asks with a roll of his eyes. Ryan has always been overprotective, but this is bordering on crazy.

"Because he doesn't understand."

Understand what? Spencer asks with a look. He's a nice guy and I like hanging out with him. What the fuck is your problem?

Ryan scowls and crosses his arms. Brendon is looking between them fearfully. Spencer knows he's about two seconds from disappearing into his room and blasting Disney music.

"He can't understand you!" Ryan exclaims instead. "He doesn't even know sign! How do you guys even talk? He only wants you for your body. It won't work out, you know that."

Spencer glares. Usually he can deal with Ryan's little quirks, the way he can barely handle himself and yet takes it upon himself to deal with Spencer's problems as well. But Ryan is stepping over the invisible barrier that separates Spencer's actual personal life from what he shares with Ryan.

What do you have against Jon? Why are you so set on hating him? He never did anything to you. I like him and that's all that matters.

Ryan is shaking his head, looking disbelieving. "It's not gonna work out. And you're just gonna get hurt. He's only interested in sex. Why bother putting yourself through that? No matter how nice this guy is, he won't stick around."

Spencer takes a minute to shoot Ryan his best glare before he shakes his head slowly.

Well, with all your cheerfulness, I can't imagine why not, he shoots back and turns before Ryan has the chance to stop him, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

*

"We open with a young man wearing one of your shirts."

Jon listens as Greta pitches the ad campaign to Frank, who looks very out of place in the board room, wearing jeans and a ripped tee shirt, sprawled across several roller chairs and nodding along as Greta goes through the phases of the advertisement.

Tom is across the table, playing what looks like pong on his cell phone as Greta goes on. Jon tunes his attention when Frank speaks up.

"What about the heterosexism?"

"Excuse me?" Greta asks, obviously perplexed by the question.

Sitting up, Frank lets the chair spin away from his feet. Jon watches the way he pulls his lip ring into his mouth as he contemplates the pictures.

"It's all boy-girl, boy-girl. Where's the boy on boy or girl on girl?"

"Well," Greta says slowly. "Your target audience is young men and women between the ages of fourteen and twenty-five."

"Exactly," Frank says, and Jon smiles to himself at Greta's confused look as he continues. "They like to experiment. My line is all about being yourself, and if that means fucking your best friend then we should represent that, right?"

Greta looks as though she doesn't have a reply and Jon stands up.

"Well, Mr. Iero, that's a great idea. We could consider running ads in Out magazine depicting that if you'd like."

Frank pauses, thinking, then claps Jon on the back. "I like it! You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't you?" He winks at Jon and Jon doesn't reply, although he can almost hear Tom's snicker behind him.

Greta is sending him an amused look, but quickly schools back to professional as Frank turns back.

"We can start working on that right away," she promises and Frank grins.

"Awesome! I knew I was gonna like this firm."

Tom is still laughing when Frank leaves with Greta to discuss financial matters and Jon sinks into his seat.

"Stop it," he only says, but smile anyway.

"You sure have a way with guys, eh, Jonny?" Tom asks, grinning. "How's the mute kid coming along? Once for yes, two for no?"

"Shut up," Jon says, tossing a crumpled piece of paper at Tom, who ducks as it sails past his head.

His phone vibrates at that moment, though, and Tom's knowing crow is loud as Jon digs the phone out from his pocket.

coffee? is the message, and Jon looks up at Tom, who is wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Booty call?"

"You're ridiculous," Jon mutters, but is already typing in his response.

when and where.

*

Spencer sits at his normal table by the window, staring out but not really seeing the people that walk by. Ryan's words are reverberating around his mind and he knows it's stupid, but he's known Ryan forever and no matter how much he hates to admit it, Ryan can affect him.

Sighing, he rubs his temples and shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to forget about this morning, about what Ryan said, about how it might be true.

He jumps at the tap on his shoulder, lifting his head quickly and twisting to see Jon standing behind him, smiling slightly.

"Hey," he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets after a minute, and Spencer nods back, telling himself to relax.

Jon hesitates and then turns towards the counter slightly. "So, coffee?" he asks and Spencer nods again after a second.

Together they make their way to the counter and Jon orders a drink. Spencer's is already made and sitting on the counter.

"Wow," Jon comments as Spencer pays. "Even my Starbucks isn't this efficient."

Spencer smiles a little and grabs his drink, heading back towards his table. Jon follows and slips into the seat across the small, round table.

Silence falls between them as Spencer drinks his coffee and Jon watches him thoughtfully.

He knows he hasn't known Spencer very long and it's not as though they've had any in-depth conversations late into the night, but over the past couple weeks, Jon thinks he's been able to pick up on what Spencer is thinking, maybe a little. So when Spencer looks out the window instead of at him, Jon leans forward a little.

"Hey, Spence," he says slowly and Spencer looks back at him, eyes bright but a little sad. "What's wrong?"

Spencer shoots him a smile and shakes his head, but Jon isn't fooled.

"Spence," he says softly, reaching out and touching Spencer's arm carefully.

Spencer's gaze flickers to him and he sighs. He almost doesn't want to tell Jon because it's stupid. Ryan is stupid.

But he can't help it as he pulls out a little notebook from his pocket and a pen and scribbles down a note.

Why do you like me? it says, and Jon frowns as he reads it.

"Why are you asking?" he asks with a slight laugh although they both know it's not funny.

Spencer takes back the notebook. I just want to know.

Pausing, Jon slides the notebook back and scoots his chair over to Spencer's side. "It doesn't matter. Spence, I do like you, and it doesn't matter to me, whatever it is that's bothering you. Is it because I can't sign? Or because you can't talk?"

Spencer looks reluctant even as Jon watches him with concern.

I wasn't always mute, you know, he writes. Jon watches as his mouth forms the words as he writes them.

"When did it happen?" Jon asks carefully.

Spencer shrugs in a way that is supposed to be nonchalant, but Jon can see the way he avoids looking at him, instead watching the baristas behind the counter.

Taking back the notebook, he writes in it for a few minutes before sliding it to Jon.

I got in a car crash when I was fifteen, had to stay in the hospital for weeks. The crash was one of those things that you don't see coming. I just remember being in the car and when I woke up, I was on the ground and the car was smoking. My throat was stinging and I didn't find out until later that the car had flipped and the windows broke. A piece of glass... Anyway, I couldn't talk after that. Ryan learned sign language with me, and Brendon sort of picked it up later. And I can make some noises, it's just that it's easier to say nothing a lot of the time.

As Jon finishes reading, he glances up at Spencer, who's swirling his coffee around but not drinking.

"I can sign my name," he offers, but it sounds weak and he isn't sure what Spencer wants him to say. He doesn't know what the problem is. Lifting his hand, he signs out his name slowly, the j curved down with his pinkie, the o, and the n, and Spencer watches with little expression on his face.

I don't need you to sign, he writes, and Jon bites his lip slowly.

"What do you want?" Jon asks finally.

I want you to answer my question.

"Okay," Jon agrees after a minute, scooting his chair closer to Spencer, raising a gentle hand to his chin when Spencer tries to look away. "When I first saw you, I thought you were hot, actually, I thought you were the hottest guy I'd ever seen. It probably didn't help that I was sort of drunk and you were wearing those really tight jeans – which, by the way, I haven't seen since. I guess I was kind of freaked out when I found out you couldn't talk, but not because you couldn't talk, but because I was afraid I might do something wrong. Like, when I came over and met your friends, I was terrified, especially with the way Ryan glared at me. He's scary, ya know?"

Spencer nods a little, his chin still in Jon's grip, but it's soft, and Jon takes a second to stroke a thumb over his jawbone, tilting his head to the side and smiling.

"So..." Jon pauses. "I guess I like you because you're funny, and you have crazy friends just like me, and, I don't know, you're cute when you're trying to figure out why someone would like you."

He smiles at Spencer even as Spencer meets his eyes, looking as though he's trying to figure out what Jon really means.

Spencer reaches for the pen, but Jon stops him, taking his hand and twining their fingers together.

"The answer to your question is that I just do, and you're gonna have to accept that because I'm not going away unless of course this whole thing was a big scheme to tell me that you never want to see me again."

Spencer shakes his head after a minute, letting Jon keep a hold on his hand, fingers stroking down his palm soothingly.

"Well, good," Jon says. "'Cause I don't think it would have worked anyway."

Spencer doesn't even try to pull away when Jon leans in and kisses him softly, warm lips fitting against his almost too slowly. But something in the way Jon doesn't push it, how his thumb grazes down Spencer's jaw, pressing him forward minutely, makes the moment perfect, and Spencer doesn't even remember sighing against Jon's mouth before the kiss is broken and Jon pulls away, hand still resting against his jaw, warm and comforting, as Spencer's eyes open slowly.

"So do you want to tell me what's wrong?" Jon asks after a minute and Spencer pauses, taking a breath and glancing down at Jon's fingers against his palm.

Finally, he shakes his head and leans forward into Jon again, initiating the next kiss and trying to forget about anything Ryan might have said to derail him.

*

Spencer doesn't go home that night. After coffee, he goes back to the office and pointedly ignores Ryan when he comes to give him the paperwork for Gabe and William's latest exploit.

"Spencer," Ryan says, but Spencer just puts in his earbuds and turns up the volume on his ipod.

After Ryan leaves, Spencer texts Jon and almost feels relieved when Jon agrees to dinner.

Dinner turns out to be Chinese take-out in Jon's living room, but Spencer is definitely not complaining.

Over boxes of kung pao chicken and rice, Spencer listens to Jon talk about his job and his best friend, Tom, and the cat, Dylan, curls up near where Spencer sits cross-legged on the couch, sniffing hopefully at the air.

"I've known Tom pretty much forever," Jon says, digging his chopsticks into the box. He hasn't asked why Spencer wanted to see him again or why he hasn't said much other than he had a long day.

Spencer doesn't reply. His little keyboard is in his jacket pocket, but the jacket is on the coat rack by the door and he doesn't want to use it anyway. He doesn't really feel like talking as he picks at his chicken.

Jon watches him for a second and then sets down his box on the coffee table. He's at the other end of the couch from Spencer, Dylan in between them, searching hopefully for a morsel of food that he might have dropped.

"Spencer," he says finally after Spencer sets his down too and pets Dylan slowly.

Spencer doesn't react except to glance up at Jon, meeting his eyes under a curtain of dark hair that he doesn't bother to brush away.

Jon wants to say something, but he doesn't know what, and when Spencer pushes Dylan out from between them and crawls closer, he can't think of what to say.

"Jon," Spencer mouths, and Jon can feel the warm ghost of breath against his cheek.

He can see the way Spencer's eyes burn dark blue, staring at him, the way his body is twisted forward, almost desperate for something that Jon can't explain, can't comprehend, but it's there and Spencer is asking, teeth biting his lower lip in what should be seductive, but looks vulnerable to Jon.

"Please," Spencer mouths silently, eyes flickering upward and Jon can't help staring at the dark eyelashes against pale skin as Spencer leans forward, fitting his lips against Jon's.

It's a slippery slide that Jon knows he shouldn't take, but Spencer is so close, and he's biting Jon's lower lip, and it feels like the first time but different.

Jon lets Spencer crawl over, a hand on his thigh, sliding higher the closer he comes. Jon can feel Spencer's fingers digging into his jeans, sharp against the hotness of his mouth, the way he slips forward, climbing on top of him.

Ignoring whatever warning signals are going off in his brain, Jon's hand slides to Spencer's side, anchoring on his hip and tightening when he shifts. The other brushes under his shirt, fingers skimming over the smooth skin of his back and up to his shoulder blade.

He wants to ask why, but Spencer is biting at his mouth insistently, dipping his tongue inside, and Jon can't help moaning at the warm slide of lips against lips.

When Spencer shifts, tightening his knees over Jon's legs, his fingers digging in and sliding up, Jon can't help the way he arches into him. He didn't know Spencer could be such a tease.

Spencer's hand leaves Jon's thigh, tiptoeing up to the hem of his shirt and pushing underneath.

His hands are cold and Jon's stomach jumps at the first stroke of cool fingers tracing over his skin. Spencer is still kissing him hard and Jon's lips are sore, but his own hand presses Spencer forward by the small of his back.

Shifting, Spencer slides his hands down, working under the waist of Jon's jeans, working at the zipper and sliding under.

Jon gasps sharply at the first press of Spencer's hand into his cock.

Spencer leaves Jon's lips when he gasps, slipping down his jaw, nuzzling the sharp stubble and biting at his jaw, leaving dark red marks that won't fade in the morning. Spencer doesn't want them to fade.

Spencer bites Jon's neck in a way that's supposed to mean, 'what do you want?' and pulls back to meet Jon's eyes, though his hand still rocks down slightly, barely enough pressure to make Jon's eyes flutter shut and his head fall back.

"Fuck, Spencer," he breathes out slowly, dragging his hips forward so that even Spencer is surprised and lets out a puff of air against Jon's jaw. "C'mere."

There isn't anywhere to go, but Spencer lets Jon arch into him, dragging his hips closer. His breath is long and hot against Jon's neck and his eyes close.

Jon can feel Spencer's eyelashes against his skin and the warm breath on his neck, lips brushing closer as Spencer sinks down on top of Jon's thighs.

Rocking forward, Spencer asks what he can't say, threading a hand into Jon's short hair and tilting his throat back. Jon hisses in a sharp breath as Spencer leans in, dragging his tongue up his throat and nipping at his jaw.

"Fuck," Jon says again, hands scrabbling at Spencer's jeans now, fumblingly tugging the zipper down and pushing the fabric over his thighs. Spencer sits up, arching into Jon's touch as Jon pushes the jeans away.

"Bedroom," Spencer mouths, silent against Jon's neck, pressing the word into his skin and punctuating it with a sharp dig of his hips, now just a thin layer of fabric separating him from Jon.

Nodding quickly, Jon struggles to push himself up, Spencer still in his lap.

They don't get as far as the bedroom.

Spencer pushes Jon up against the wall, hands shoving at his shirt, tearing it messily over his head and throwing it to the floor in a crumpled pile. His hands are on Jon's body, tugging him closer, biting his lip as their hips meet in a clash of friction and heat.

Jon's jeans are halfway open, and Spencer's hand shoves inside, wrapping around his cock and stroking a few times until Jon pushes him away, hands working at his shirt as well, pushing it off and stripping Spencer of his boxers.

He can see the way Spencer is panting, his stomach moving with each breath. His hair is mussed and his lips are tinged with red as he stares at Jon. Licking his lips, Spencer moves in again, pulling Jon into a reeling kiss. It's hard and impossible to know what's going on as Spencer bites his lips, licks into his mouth, sucking on his lip as Jon pants for breath and grabs for Spencer's waist.

"Shit, Spence, I want—" he pants, tugging Spencer forward suddenly, flush against his body.

Spencer nods encouragingly, out of breath as he drags his fingers up Jon's side, leaving stinging paths that Jon doesn't even care about.

Spencer really wishes he could talk, he really does. Instead, he pushes his body against Jon, rubbing his erection against Jon's thigh insistently. He doesn't want to think about the day or what happened. He just wants Jon.

Jon seems to get the message even without words as Spencer drags him back and they end up sprawled on the floor when Jon trips over a badly placed ottoman near the arm chair.

"S-sorry," Jon pants, but Spencer doesn't let him apologize, arching vainly against him.

Mouthing his neck, he bites down, hearing Jon's gasp and the way the air rushes out against his ear, hot and quick.

"I-I need," Jon says, but doesn't finish his sentence as he gropes for the coffee table, several feet away. "Hold on."

He leaves Spencer, crawling away as Spencer lets his head fall back against the floor with a small clunk.

The carpet is rough underneath his bare back, and he knows it's going to hurt later, but he just wants Jon to come back from where he's rummaging in a little drawer hidden under the coffee table.

When Jon finally returns, Spencer props himself up on his elbows, trying to ignore the throb of his cock as Jon settles back over him.

"You want it to be like last night?" Jon asks. "What you said you wanted?" His hands are already tearing at a condom package, ripping the little packet open and unrolling the condom on his hard cock.

He wishes Spencer could talk, could tell him what he wants, but that's not going to happen, so Jon watches his every move, every expression carefully.

Spencer nods, swallowing hard and closing his eyes when Jon presses a bruising kiss to his mouth. He forms the word, 'fuck,' against Jon's mouth when he gasps for breath around his lips.

"Yeah," Jon breathes, flipping open the lube and spreading it over his fingers. He watches how Spencer's body goes still when he presses the first digit in, working in slowly, pressing through tight muscles, listening to Spencer pant out his breath with each twist.

Spencer's mouth is open and he's staring at the ceiling of Jon's living room, eyes glossing over the shapes in the stucco, back arching off the carpet when a second finger twists in to join the first.

Biting his lip, Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, feeling Jon's fingers move, pumping in and out of his body, twisting in deep, hitting against that bundle of nerves that makes his toes curl and his cock throb. His gut is tied up in knots, and Jon just isn't moving fast enough.

He tries to make that point silently, pushing against Jon's fingers, hands curling around Jon's forearms tightly. He forces his eyes open and shifts to stare down at Jon, eyes burning with want, with the need for something more than just fingers thrusting into him.

Jon can feel the way Spencer pushes back, dragging his fingers in, begging for something more. He's obliged to give it as he pulls his fingers out and carefully guides Spencer over onto his stomach. Spencer sits up immediately, positioning himself, knees flat against the floor and palms spread out to keep him upright. He doesn't even feel like he's exposing himself when Jon kneels up, spreading his legs further, letting him sink into a comfortable position.

Slicking up his cock, Jon wastes no time pulling Spencer's hips down, seeing the way his knees slip and his hands curl around the carpet at the initial push.

The lines in Spencer's back are strained and tense as Jon pushes in. He doesn't stop or go too slow, pushing his cock into Spencer's body even as Spencer tenses, legs quivering at the strength it's taking to remain upright when Jon is behind him, all heat and strong body pressing inside.

Taking a second, Jon lets go of Spencer's hips and he can feel the sudden shift, the way Spencer bites back a gasp. Leaning forward, cock sliding deeper into the tight heat of Spencer's body, he brushes his fingers over Spencer's shoulder blade, stretching up to press a kiss to each, tongue trailing to Spencer's ear to nibble at the lobe.

"Just like the text," he whispers and sees Spencer's shudder.

Then Spencer moves and it's blazing heat for Jon, flaring through his stomach and up to his neck. Burying his face on Spencer's neck, he starts to move, rocking forward as Spencer pushes back.

Spencer can feel the rug burn on his knees, Jon's hot breath on his neck, and he moves with Jon, panting towards the floor. His palms are flat against the grey carpet, rubbing harshly with every thrust Jon gives, slipping forward when Jon's hands fly to his hips to steady him, to hold him up with each hard push inside.

Jon, Jon, Jon, Spencer says to himself, back arching, his cock pulsing with blood, a desperate need for release.

Jon watches the way Spencer's back curves, almost gracefully, how his eyes are squeezed shut now, his mouth moving soundlessly.

There are red marks of fingerprints when Jon releases Spencer's hip and licks his hand, sliding it to Spencer's neglected length. He strokes a few times, feeling the muscles tense, how Spencer's movements stutter. Thumb catching over the head, he hears Spencer's sharp breath, loud over his panting.

Spencer comes first, pushing back against Jon, warm, wet liquid covering his hand as Jon still moves, feeling the coiling in his stomach, the heat spreading through his toes.

The muscles are tight and clench when Spencer comes hard, sending Jon's mind reeling, struggling to focus on anything but the heat, the tightness around his cock. His hand is still on Spencer's cock, almost too tight, but he lets go when Spencer twists back and he curses loudly, hips thrusting forward as Spencer's slam back to meet him in a move that has him losing control.

He comes without warning, shallow thrusts taking him through it while Spencer pants beneath him, slipping down onto his forearms and exhaling into the carpet. The heat overtakes him as he presses forward, hips jerking until all energy leaves him and he slides down, Spencer lying underneath him and breathing hard.

The carpet smells like soap, which Spencer finds slightly odd, but it's also sort of musky, and he just lies there for a moment, Jon's warm and comfortable weight on top of him.

Jon finally shifts, pulling out and watching the way Spencer winces slightly, but Spencer doesn't move or do anything as Jon tosses the condom into the trashcan near the kitchen.

His hands and knees are red with the burn from the carpet as he rolls onto his side, searching for Jon, who settles down beside him.

Jon is quiet for a moment and then tilts his head to the side. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?" he asks.

Spencer shakes his head, reaching for Jon's hand and tracing the lines on his palm slowly.

Jon shifts closer, his nose bumping against Spencer's easily. "You want stay here tonight?"

Spencer glances up to his eyes and Jon can barely see the hint of a smile from this distance, but Spencer nods after a second or two, meeting Jon's lips for a barely-there kiss before settling back on the floor, hand still in Jon's.

*

Ryan sits at the table, a coffee cup in his hands, the dark liquid steaming up at him, but it's mostly undrunk.

He doesn't flinch at the sound of a door shutting somewhere within the apartment. He doesn't look over when he hears Brendon's yawn and knows he's stretching, probably still wearing those ridiculous Care Bear pajamas that he's had since he was sixteen. They're about three inches too short now.

"Hey," Brendon says as he enters the kitchen and pours himself a cup of orange juice. He turns around, taking in Ryan at the table. "What are you doing?"

Sighing, Ryan looks down at his cup. "Nothing."

Brendon hesitates before taking the seat to Ryan's left and biting his lower lip. "You're thinking about him."

"I'm just worried is all," Ryan replies, but he doesn't look at Brendon.

"Are you ever gonna tell him?" Brendon asks instead and Ryan blinks at his coffee.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Right," Brendon agrees quietly. "So you're gonna be happy for him, right? With Jon? 'Cause Jon seems pretty awesome."

"Yeah, he does," Ryan mutters, taking the first sip of his coffee in the nearly half an hour he's had it poured.

Silence falls in the apartment and Brendon pokes at his juice. Finally, he glances at Ryan.

"You know," he says finally, and Ryan barely lifts his eyes. "I've known you almost forever too."

"Yeah," Ryan agrees. "Almost ten years."

"And I know sign language too," Brendon offers and Ryan frowns.

"What are you trying to do?"

"I'm just trying to tell you..." Brendon trails off and lifts his hand, pointing at himself, then crossing his arms across his chest, and finally pointing at Ryan. After that, he folds his hands simply in his lap and waits.

When Ryan doesn't respond, Brendon pulls his orange juice closer.

"I'm not Spencer," he mutters, shrugging slightly.

"No," Ryan says finally. "You're Brendon."

Brendon nods, biting his lip and staring at his juice. He looks up when he feels Ryan's hand on his forearm, resting gently.

Ryan's mouth quirks a little and he returns to his coffee while Brendon smiles into his orange juice.

*

Spencer wakes to blinding sunlight that has just managed to push through the otherwise grey sky. Wincing, he cringes away, wondering why the hell his curtains are halfway open and there's a grey tail swishing down from the windowsill.

Wait. Blinking, he watches the tail twitch and slowly realizes where he is. Rolling over carefully, he finds Jon behind him, fast asleep. His mouth is open slightly and his breathing is heavy. His hair falls into his eyes and Spencer takes a minute to watch him sleep, breathing in and out.

The tail twitches again and then disappears as Dylan turns around on the sill and jumps down, somehow sensing Spencer being awake. His purring is quiet, but he's walking all over Jon's legs in his attempts to get to Spencer.

Jon shifts sleepily, mumbling something and pushing at Dylan, who, Spencer could swear, shoots him a haughty look before jumping off the bed and weaving out of the bedroom. Spencer remains snuggled under the warm covers, waiting for Jon to wake. He knows he's already there as he snuffles into his pillow and mumbles something else, something that sounds like Dylan's name and canned cat food.

When Jon finally opens his eyes and winces in the sun, he groans and rolls over, hand outstretched already to close the curtain, he stops as he runs into Spencer.

He stops, and for a moment, Spencer panics, but then Jon just smiles, hand twitching the curtains shut and cool darkness filling the room.

"Morning," he says, pulling the covers over his bare shoulders and shifting closer. "Sleep okay?"

Spencer nods, feeling Jon's hand brush against his side under the covers. It's not cold but Spencer holds back a shiver anyway.

Jon sighs contently, and Spencer wonders if every morning could be this nice.

"Feel like breakfast?" Jon asks after a minute and Spencer shakes his head, scooting closer.

Jon watches him and smiles into the kiss Spencer presses to his lips.

Work, Spencer mouths when he pulls back reluctantly from the warm press of Jon's mouth, the scratch of his stubble on his fingers.

"Don't go," Jon just says, pulling him back in. "Call – or text – in sick."

Spencer grins against Jon's lips even as Jon presses kisses to his, light and slow. He shakes his head, though, trying to pull back, but Jon's hands don't let him get much further than an inch away.

"I'll call in too," Jon offers. "We can go down to the park and feed the ducks, and maybe if we're lucky, get chased by the giant swans."

Spencer rolls his eyes but lets Jon pull him into another lazy kiss, Jon's hand carding through his hair. He lets it go on for a few moments until he's pulling away again, pushing at Jon's chest.

Ryan, he says silently and Jon tilts his head slightly.

"Will he be mad if you skip?"

Spencer shakes his head, glancing away. Jon pauses.

"It was about him, wasn't it?" he asks and Spencer doesn't answer, pushing away. He's searching the floor for his clothes as Jon watches him. "Spence, you can tell me if he doesn't like me or something."

Spencer shakes his head again and Jon really doesn't know what that means. Spencer is out of bed, though, pulling on his boxers and jeans. Jon just watches, silently, as Spencer grabs his shirt, shrugging it on and turning around.

Spencer intends to leave, but the look on Jon's face stops him, and he realizes something. He's not being fair to Jon, to this great guy who doesn't even care that Spencer can't talk or that he's got a best friend with a stick up his ass.

So Spencer sighs and returns, opening a drawer in the bedside table and hoping there might be – yes, he pulls out a little notepad and a pen with barely enough ink to scrawl his message.

He just said some things, he writes, passing it to Jon, who frowns as he reads it.

"Things?"

Spencer hesitates, and then scribbles out a note in the fading ink.

He just made me question this, which was stupid, because you're a great guy. So, I'm sorry for acting stupid.

Jon reads the note slowly and Spencer waits, his heart beating a little faster. He isn't usually nervous around guys, but he also doesn't usually spend much time with anyone other than Ryan or Brendon, and certainly not in a romantic way. Most people sort of assume that because he can't talk, there's nothing worthwhile to say to him. He's gotten used to being largely ignored, and he's usually content with that.

"You weren't stupid," Jon says finally, crumpling the note and letting it fall away. "You just got scared. It's okay. I get it." He smiles a little and jerks his shoulder in a half-shrug.

You're way too forgiving, Spencer scribbles. I'm not sure if I can handle that. He smiles as he passes it to Jon.

Jon laughs a little as he reads. "Well, that's too bad." He pauses, sitting up and crawling over to where Spencer stands on the other side of the bed. Sitting up on his knees, he's shorter than Spencer, and Spencer doesn't mind when Jon smiles again. "So I can't talk you into staying?"

Spencer hesitates at Jon's hopeful smile, but in the end, echoes the smile but jerks his head at the door a little.

"Fine," Jon says instead. "I guess I'll just have to bother you at work instead."

Spencer smirks and reaches for the pen again.

I bet cybersex is even better than text-sex.

"Maybe we'll just have to test that theory," Jon says, leaning up into Spencer to kiss him slowly, thoroughly.

Spencer breaks away with a nod, pulling out of Jon's grip and leaving with a smile tossed over his shoulder as Jon sighs and sinks down on the bed, knowing he too should get ready for the day.

*

The pile of papers on Spencer's desk isn't any smaller than when he left the day before, and he sits down resignedly. He hasn't been there two minutes when Haley sticks her head in.

"There you are," she says, breezing inside, a cup of coffee already ready for him. "Ryan's been calling every five minutes looking for you. Don't you guys live together or something?"

Spencer shrugs, taking the coffee and relishing the jolt of caffeine.

"Well, he's going to call in about two minutes, so should I say you're here?"

Spencer shrugs again, although it's more resigned, and Haley arches an eyebrow.

"Troubles at home?" she asks and Spencer tosses a pen at her. "Alright, alright," she says, ruffling herself. "Just for that, I'm telling him you're here."

Spencer rolls his eyes as she leaves, drinking more coffee and turning to his computer. There are no IMs, and he didn't really expect there to be since Jon probably isn't even at work yet.

He isn't really surprised when Ryan comes by a few minutes later. He doesn't bother to knock, and just lingers in the doorway, hovering by the frame as Spencer waits.

What? Spencer signs finally.

Sighing, Ryan pushes off the frame. "I'm sorry," he says finally, "about yesterday. I was being stupid."

Yes, you were, Spencer replies simply when Ryan pauses.

"You deserve to be happy," Ryan says, staring at his shoes, and Spencer frowns slightly. "And I guess Jon makes you happy."

He does, Spencer signs slowly. Did Brendon tell you to say this?

Ryan scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I can come up with apologies on my own, you know."

Spencer just shrugs. Brendon's just better at it.

Ryan sighs and scuffs his shoe against the floor. "He's just had more practice."

Spencer smiles. He's kind of in love with you, by the way. You should throw him a bone.

Ryan blinks as he watches Spencer's hands, the movements so similar to what Brendon signed earlier that morning in silence. In the end, he just shrugs. "You should get to work on that Gabe-William thing. Apparently they got caught by the paparazzi in some sleezy bar with hands down each other's pants."

Not the worst they've ever been caught in, Spencer points out and Ryan laughs a little.

"True. Well, anyway, Pete's gonna stop by later to see what you have, so I'd start working."

Yeah, Spencer signs. No problem.

"Good." Ryan smiles a little and turns, glancing back when Spencer taps the desk.

I like Jon, he signs simply and Ryan pauses before he nods.

"Yeah, I know. Good luck." Then he turns and leaves. Spencer watches after for a minute before returning to his computer.

*

Is this like meeting the parents?

Jon smiles at the note Spencer shoves into his hand as he shuts the door behind him, the same club as that first night before them, the ground already shaking with the throb of the music.

"Kinda," Jon replies, "but I feel like I should warn you that Tom is crazy."

Spencer arches an eyebrow as if to remind Jon of Ryan and Jon laughs. Grabbing Spencer's hand, he pulls him inside.

Shouting back to him over the music, he tugs him forward. "He might ask some strange questions, and your best bet would be to answer them as normal as you can."

Spencer's expression is slightly skeptical, but Jon just grins as they come to the bar. Tom is sitting there, Keltie with him for once, sipping a beer already. Jon surveys him to make sure he isn't drunk, and nods his approval.

Tom rolls his eyes as though he knows that Jon is doing, and turns to Spencer, a leering smile overtaking his face.

Spencer shoots Jon a look and Jon shrugs.

"Tom, this is Spencer. Spencer, Tom, and Keltie."

Spencer nods at both of them. Keltie smiles over her drink, but Tom watches him closely, almost as though judging him.

"So you can't talk, right?" he asks and ignores Jon's look that he shoots him.

Spencer pauses and then shakes his head. He pulls out his notepad and scribbles a note.

There are better ways to get what I want. Arching an eyebrow, he smirks at Tom, who looks surprised but then laughs.

"Shit, Jon, you sure know how to pick'em."

"Uh, thanks," Jon says slowly, glancing at Spencer, who shrugs.

"So what are your plans with our dearest Jon?" Tom asks and Jon shakes his head hopelessly.

Spencer holds Tom's gaze for a second before scribbling a note that Jon can't see and passing it to Tom.

Tom reads it, staring at the paper for a whole five seconds until he smirks and glances up at Spencer. Spencer only looks back, his posture slightly haughty.

Finally, Tom stuffs the paper in his jeans and turns to Keltie. "I love this song," he says, extending a hand and slipping off his stool.

"Tom," Jon calls after him, but Tom only turns to wink at him and shout, "Good job, Jonny! Good job!" Then he's gone into the crowd with Keltie and Jon frowns as he turns to Spencer, who looks rather pleased with himself. "What did you tell him?"

Spencer shrugs entirely too innocently. Jon doesn't believe him for a second.

"Do I have to sic Ryan on you?" he asks and Spencer grins, shaking his head.

Tom approves, he scribbles, smiling at Jon.

Jon is unimpressed, but sighs when Spencer smiles innocently.

"Okay, fine, don't tell me what you said, but you have to teach me one thing."

Spencer waits, tilting his head to the side expectantly.

"How do you sign 'shut up'?" Jon asks, grinning, and Spencer pauses thoughtfully.

Then he takes Jon's wrists and tugs him forward into a soft kiss. Jon's hands breaks free of Spencer's grasp to slide to his waist, easing him forward as they kiss, careful lips and tongues as the music throbs around them and people ignore them.

"Hm," Jon murmurs when Spencer pulls back just an inch. "I thought it'd be more complicated than that."

Spencer only shakes his head and bites his lower lip and he struggles to write out a note from his position pressed against Jon.

I'm just that simple.

"I'm beginning to find that out," Jon murmurs even as he leans in for another kiss.

Spencer smiles against his mouth, only pulling away when someone bumps into them from the dance floor. Wiping at his mouth, he takes a step back, grabbing his drink from the counter.

"So," Jon says when Spencer sets his drink back down. "What did you tell Tom?"

Spencer only smirks and grabs Jon's hand, eyes glinting as he leads him to the dance floor, and Jon remembers the first time he saw Spencer and he thinks he knows what Spencer wrote.

Pulling Spencer around, he leans into his ear as their hips sway to the beat.

"You can tell Tom that I like your plan," he whispers, and he can feel Spencer's grin against his neck as Spencer turns towards him, and the word, 'Okay' is pressed to his throat.

Smiling, Jon lets his hands fall to Spencer's hips as they move to the music.

*

FIN.