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Jon/Spencer
“What ‘cha watching?”
Spencer looked up blearily from the pile of blankets he was in the middle of to see Jon standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He had sequestered himself in the small living room of the cabin because it was the only place that had a television. He didn’t know how long he’d been there, having gotten up hours before because his nose was so stopped up that he couldn’t breathe unless he was upright. Colds sucked. Inhaling to explain to Jon just what he was doing caused him to start coughing.
Jon’s face fell and he was immediately by Spencer’s side. “Shit, dude. Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?” He reached out to feel the other man’s forehead. He was roasting. “Fever, congestion,” he paused and looked into his eyes momentarily, “nasty cough. Dude, I think you have the flu.”
Spencer grumbled, grabbing a tissue as he sneezed. It took three more tissues before he was through blowing his nose. Lazily, he tossed the snot filled papers towards the trash can he’d actually remembered to move beside him. He hated feeling like this, being so weak and pathetic. He ducked into the blankets to disappear from sight, hoping Jon would go away.
A moment later, he felt the couch move and figured Jon had given up on him. He finally peeked back out and saw he was alone. Settling back against the couch, he tried to get comfortable again so he could continue watching cartoons.
Ten minutes passed and Jon returned. He had a large bottle in his hand with a curly straw sticking out the top. In his other hand were a bottle of aspirin and a box of cold medicine. Jon was like a boy scout, always prepared. He rolled his eyes when Spencer groaned and tried to hide again. “Here. These will help. And I brought you some apple juice. You need fluids to fight this and I know you don’t like OJ.”
Spencer’s blue eyes peered at him from the confines of the blankets. Jon was trying to make him better. He kinda loved him for that, but he didn’t want his boyfriend to get sick, too. Sticking his arms out of the covers, he reached for the medicine and drink.
“Nope,” Jon responded to his unasked demand. “I’m staying. You need to let me take care of you, Spence. It’s kinda what I do.”
Spencer sighed and shook his head emphatically. That was totally a bad idea. He felt dizzy now and moaned as he leaned back against the couch. He wished he could be like Brendon and pout and whine when he was sick to get his way, but that was so unlike Spencer. Spencer was strong and courageous and never got sick.
Until now.
Jon poured a couple of aspirin out and got out the flu medicine, setting the bottle and box on the coffee table. He put them in the hand holding the bottle of juice and tugged at the blankets, trying to get under them. “Move. I’m coming in whether you want me to or not.”
Spencer whimpered and shook his head again. He didn’t want Jon to get sick, too!
Jon snorted in reply. “I’m not going to get sick. I had my shot already. And next year, you get one, too. Can’t have you being Mr. Whiney Pants if we’re out on tour the next time you get sick.”
Spencer stuck out his tongue at him like the adult he totally was. Jon only laughed and crawled onto the couch with him. He handed Spencer the bottle and the younger man started sipping on it. Jon was surprised a bit at how much heat was coming off his body. He felt like Brendon did usually, but he knew Spencer had to be miserable. Spencer was obviously feeling chills since he was under so many blankets. Perhaps this meant his fever would break soon.
Handing Spencer the medicine, he watched him take it before wrapping his arms around the young man. “So, what’cha watching?” he asked again.
Spencer sucked down nearly half the bottle of juice, suddenly aware of how thirsty he felt. He also felt relaxed in Jon’s arms. He leaned his head on the older man’s shoulder, cuddling close with him. “Cartoons,” he finally replied and closed his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep.
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Brendon/Ryan
“I wish you didn’t have to go.”
Brendon’s voice was quiet and trembled just a little. This was the first time Ryan had to go away to work with a band. The band was having issues with their lyrics and wanted Ryan to re-write them.
“I wish you could go with me,” Ryan replied. “But you’re busy with your doctorate and the kids would miss you so much. Hopefully I’ll be home soon.”
Brendon cuddled up closer to his husband. “I know,” he said with a sigh. “It’s the first time we’ve been apart since we got married, though. I’m going to miss you.”
“And I’m going to miss you,” Ryan said truthfully as he kissed the top of Brendon’s head. This wasn’t only the first time they’d been apart since they were married; it was also the first time Ryan had ever left Las Vegas alone. To be honest, he was pretty worried, too. He just wasn’t going to show that to the other man.
“You’ll call me every day?”
“Every day.”
“And email?”
“When I have time. I have to work, too, B.” Ryan smiled in Brendon’s hair. He was glad his husband wanted him to stay in touch that much. He could even admit to himself that he was worried about the other man, but he knew Spencer and Jon would make sure he ate and slept. Their best friends would be around to help out and that made him relax a little.
Brendon had fit himself directly into Ryan’s side, pulling the other man’s arms around him. “I am not moving from this spot until you have to leave.”
Ryan chuckled softly. “Okay.” And he was totally okay with it.
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Pete/Patrick
Pete was sitting in the darkest place in his house. It also happened to be the pantry in the kitchen, but he didn’t care. He was under the shelves in the furthest corner, knees up to his chin. He was having another one of his meltdowns and he knew it. There was nothing he could do about it, though. It happened sometimes.
Bronx was at Ashlee’s, thankfully. He would be totally worried if this had happened with his son in the house. As it was, being alone was probably the trigger. He hated being alone. Being alone meant wandering his big house thinking about times long past. Being alone meant thinking about everything that had gone wrong in his life, and never thinking about the things that had gone right. He had no idea how long he’d been there, but it must have been a while because his stomach was starting to protest. He could probably just reach above him and grab a box of Bronx’s cereal to eat, but he didn’t feel like it. He was lazy.
“Pete?”
He started at the sound of a voice in his kitchen calling his name. It was a voice he knew very well, a voice he’d dreamed about every night since they’d met many years ago.
“Pete! Where the fuck are you?”
Pete didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to let the person know where he was, he didn’t! His body, however, had other ideas. Somehow his leg kicked out and overturned Hemmingway’s container of food, making lots of noise. He pushed further in the corner as he heard footsteps approaching and the door handle turning.
Looking up, he saw his angel standing in the doorway, halo above his head. Okay, so it was just a trick of the light, but to Pete, it was a halo, the halo of the most angelic human ever. Patrick opened the door wide so the light flooded the tiny room. “Fucking hell, Pete. You’re supposed to tell me when you’re feeling this way. We are so not having another Best Buy incident.” The strawberry blonde singer walked in to stoop in front of him, holding out his hand. “Come on, Peter Pan. Let’s fly into the light.”
Reluctantly, Pete reached out to grasp Patrick’s hand and let the younger man pull him out of the pantry. Patrick didn’t let go when they got out of the closet. He didn’t let go when he dragged Pete from the kitchen. He didn’t even let go when he made Pete sit down on the couch. Clutching his hand the entire time, Patrick sat down beside him and pulled him up against him. It wasn’t until then he let go so he could wrap his arms around Pete like a cocoon.
Pete was wrapped up by Patrick and suddenly could relax. He could breathe again. The walls weren’t trying to close in on him. “I’m sorry, Pattycakes,” he said is a soft, sad voice.
Patrick didn’t sigh, at least not outwardly. He knew Pete’s issues. This wasn’t the first time he’d pulled Pete from the precipice. He just continued to breathe normally and held tightly onto his best friend. “You didn’t take anything, did you?” he asked, a slight strain in his voice. He did not want to have to go through that again.
Pete shook his head. “Just was thinking too much,” he mumbled. “I’m afraid, ‘Trick. I’ve killed the band.”
Patrick let himself sigh this time. “No you haven’t, Pete. The band isn’t dead. We’re just taking a break. We’ve been together since Joe and I were fucking sixteen. I just want to try and see what I can do by myself. Same with Joe and Andy. I know it feels like we’ve left you alone, Pete, but we haven’t. I promise. We will always be here.”
Pete pushed back into Patrick even more. He wanted to just pull his own skin off and replace it with Patrick. At least then he wouldn’t have to worry anymore. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
Patrick squeezed his eye shut and counted to ten several times. Pete had told him his fears of the band taking a break. But he also knew the stress that the last album had put them all under, Pete the most. Pete took everything said about the album and every song personally, which was warranted, really. They were his words, his soul that Patrick sang.
“It’s okay, Pete,” Patrick finally said quietly. He pulled Pete further into his arms, kissing the top of his head. “We’re going to be okay.”
And whenever Patrick said it was going to be okay, Pete knew it would. Because it was Patrick.
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Gerard/Ryan
Gerard was sketching out his latest ideas for the next MCR album when he heard a knock on his door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but that usually didn’t mean anything. It was probably Mikey coming by to check on him, or Frankie, or Ray. They did tend to drop by unexpectedly to make sure he was eating and drinking more than coffee. He strolled into the foyer and looked through the peep hole so he would be prepared when he opened the door.
Wait.
He pulled back from the door and cocked his head. Had he really seen who he’d thought? He looked again and satisfied he was right, quickly opened the door and ushered the man on the step inside. “Baby, why didn’t you call me? I could have come picked you up at the airport.”
Ryan Ross dragged himself inside, his legs still not wanting to work after the long flight from Africa. He dropped his suitcases by the door and fell into Gerard’s arms, hugging him tightly. He’d had a really long day/week/month and just wanted to be with the one person he knew still loved him.
“Baby?” Gerard tried again when he felt all of Ryan’s weight against him. “Ryan? What happened?” he asked as he started leading the other man towards the couch. He got them seated with his boyfriend practically in his lap. “Ry, baby, tell me what happened.”
Ryan hadn’t even realized he was crying until he tried to breathe in and it became a choking sob. He buried his head against Gerard’s shoulder, unable to speak.
Gerard just held him, gently running his fingers through Ryan’s wavy brown locks. “It’s okay. You’re here. You’re safe,” he told him repeatedly. He had no idea what had happened, but it wasn’t like he was going to demand answers when Ryan was so obviously distraught.
As he sat there comforting his boyfriend, Gerard thought about what the problem could be. Ryan had emailed him several times about arguments he and Brendon had gotten into. They were always over something stupid, so the guitarist had said. It was beginning to look more and more like it was something a lot more serious than he’d led Gerard to believe. “Does anyone know you’re here?” he asked, wondering if there was someone he could call about the issue.
Ryan shook his head, his hands clinging to Gerard’s shirt.
“Maybe I should go email Zack and let him know you arrived safely,” he said.
This time Ryan shook his head emphatically. He didn’t want anyone to know where he was. Gerard could deal with that, unless Brendon or Spencer called him asking if he’d seen Ryan. Gerard wasn’t a very good liar these days. So instead of pressing anymore, he just gathered his boyfriend in his arms and held him close. There would be plenty of time to ask questions later. Right now, Ryan needed him and that was all that mattered.
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Ryan/Spencer
The moment the interview as over and Ryan’s phone was returned to him, he had practically run back to the bus and locked himself in the lounge. Spencer was the one who followed him. The drummer sat with his back against the door, arms crossed over his chest as he dared anyone to come near. Brendon had been around that look long enough to know it would be better if he drug Jon and Zack off somewhere to get lunch.
Spencer waited until the bus was absolutely silent and he was pretty sure Brendon was far enough away that he wouldn’t be coming back. Standing, he tried the door and was surprised to find it was actually unlocked. He pushed the door open and looked in to find Ryan with his knees up under his chin and his phone in his hands. The older boy had his chin hooked over his knees as he scrolled through something on the screen. “I’m coming in,” Spencer stated and didn’t wait for a reply as he closed the door behind him, locking it.
Ryan didn’t even look up. He was so intent on whatever was on his phone. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t expected Spencer to barge in. Of course his best friend would check on him. That’s what Spencer did. He really didn’t move at all until he felt the couch dip beside him. At that point, he leaned into his best friend, trying to steal some of his calmness.
Spencer let Ryan lean on him, because that’s what he did. He glanced at Ryan’s phone and saw the text message from his aunt telling him his dad had died early that morning. Sighing, he wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “That interviewer was a fucking asshole,” he said. Ryan had his phone taken away from him by the asshole when he wouldn’t put it down and pay attention to the interview. That had totally pissed Spencer off. From that moment, Ryan had fidgeted through the entire interview.
Ryan just nodded and continued staring at the same message.
“It’s gonna be okay, Ry. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
He nodded again and leaned more into the other boy. Eventually, he spoke. “I’m alone now, Spencer. I’ve got no one.”
“Bullshit,” Spencer spat out quickly. “You have me. You have Brendon. You have Jon and Pete and Patrick and Joe and Andy and my mom and dad and Crystal and Jackie.”
“But none of you are a Ross,” Ryan said in a very tiny voice.
“No, we aren’t,” Spencer agreed. “We’re better. We are your family. We’re the ones who will always be there, Ry. Don’t you ever forget that.”
Ryan let his phone fall from his hands. He turned in Spencer’s arms and hugged him tightly. The younger boy was right. He was his family and that’s all he ever needed.
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Brendon/Spencer
It was only the second time they’d performed on this tour. The second fucking performance. And here they were, the band, the crew, and a whole bunch of people Spencer couldn’t remember in a bar celebrating the start of the tour again. There were tall, brown bottles sweating over the table. There were glasses filled with amber liquid that called out to him. He felt his resolve starting to break.
Spencer muttered a quick apology as he stood and quickly made his way to the bathroom. The room was swimming before him. The lights were blinding and the music deafening. He burst through the door and headed to the first free stall, slamming the door behind him. Bending over, he retched into the basin. There wasn’t much there. He’d only had water since dinner and that was probably six hours ago.
Brendon was fixing his awesome pompadour in the mirror when he saw Spencer run past into the toilet stall. Oh shit. What had happened? He moved over to lock the bathroom door first before going over to tap lightly on the stall. “Spence? You okay, bud?”
Jesus fucking Christ. He would have to come in here at the same time as Brendon. Life really wasn’t fucking fair, was it?
“No, it isn’t.”
Oh God. He’d said that aloud. “Go away, Bren.”
Brendon was very close to listening to Spencer. After all, the other man was using the voice and he was pretty sure the look was also on his face. This time, however, he was going to be stubborn and not leave. Spencer needed him. He started thinking about what could have happened and then he was smacking himself in the face. “Fuck, Spence. I’m sorry. I totally didn’t think…”
“Yeah, you never think,” Spencer growled. He opened the door and pushed past the shorter man. “I can’t stay here any longer.”
“Right, right.” Brendon followed along behind him. He wasn’t about to let Spencer out of his sight. There were way too many temptations here for him. He shouldn’t have expected Spencer to be able to be around alcohol this soon after getting out of rehab. Rehab that Brendon had pretty much put him into. Yes, he was going to blame himself because that’s what Brendon did.
Spencer pulled on the bathroom door, but it wouldn’t open. He grimaced and turned to glare at Brendon. “You fucking locked us in?”
“I didn’t think you’d want anyone else just barging in. So…” he looked down at his shoes, “did you drink anything? Is that why you were throwing up?”
The other man sighed. “No, Brendon,” he said softly. “I didn’t drink anything. I didn’t take anything. I just came really close.” He leaned against the door, letting his head hit back against it as he sighed.
Brendon could see the stress in Spencer’s face. This had been really hard for him. Fuck. He slid his arms around his best friend and tucked his head under his chin. “I’m sorry, Spence. I’m really, really sorry.”
Spencer found his arms wrapping around Brendon. Surprisingly, this was just what he needed. They hugged each other for a few moments before Spencer let out a shuddering breath. “Brendon, I can’t do this. I can’t be around all this temptation.”
“I know,” Brendon said softly into his chest. He did realize that. He was going to miss his best friend. What were they going to do without Spencer?
Spencer’s arms tightened around Brendon. “I’m sorry, Bren. I… I need to get better first. I’m so sorry.”
Brendon was the one taking a shuddering breath this time. He pulled back from him and suddenly realized his face was damp. Yes, he was crying. For fuck’s sake, Spencer was his best friend! “It’s okay, Spence. We can figure this out. You should… you should go home and get better.”
Spencer leaned his head against Brendon’s. This was really hard on both of them. “Thank you, Bren. You are my best friend.” He pulled his friend into tight hug. They would get through it.