fic: venus as a boy (girl!Spence, Jon/Spence)
venus as a boy
Jon/Spencer, genderswap (girl!Spence)
4 739, R

Thanks for beta, title idea and hand-holding to Chelle ♥♥♥

Spence doesn’t quite freak out when he wakes up and notices that his tummy-down sleeping position is squishing his breasts. He turns onto his back, tentatively peeks under his T-shirt to make sure, and then exhales deeply. Okay, he thinks. So he turned into a girl overnight. Not a reason to flip. He bites his lip and tries to think of something worse to ever happen to one of them. When he can’t, he feels justified to hurry to the bathroom and lock himself in.

Brendon passes by and bumps against the door loudly and then announces to the bus that Spence is inside and puking. Spence tells him over the toilet bowl to go fuck himself and then gets up to brush his teeth, trying not to look at himself too much. He rinses and washes his face; then he steels himself and opens his eyes.

Yeah, so he’s a girl. He doesn’t look too different. His face looks a little thinner, but other than that he’s still Spencer Smith. Except. He bites his lip and flattens his T-shirt against his tummy, stretching it. Still Spencer Smith, except with boobs. And. Spence swallows and tentatively reaches into his boxers, before withdrawing quickly. He feels panic surging up inside him, and laughs desperately at his reflection.

“Spence?” Ryan says through the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Spence answers automatically. “No. Yes. Just. Get me a change of clothes, I’ll let you in.”

Ten minutes later, after Spence’s dressed and calmed down a little, they’re sitting curled up in Ryan’s bunk.

“Okay,” Ryan says slowly, trying not to stare at Spence’s breasts. Spence suddenly feels very guilty for every time he’s ever ogled a girl’s cleavage. “So, you turned into a girl. With girlparts.” He fidgets uncomfortably.

Spence glares at him. “I’m not gonna show you, forget it.” He looks down on himself. “Besides, they’re really small anyway.” He shrugs. “Maybe I can wait it out?”

“Well,” Ryan says and tilts his head. “I think you should tell the others.”

Spence purses his lips; he doesn’t think that’s a very good idea. “I don’t think I want to?” He sighs and weighs the pros against the cons, and imagines Jon opening the bathroom door because he’s forgot to lock it or Brendon draping himself all over Spence, and yes, they will definitely find out anyway.


.


“So, Brendon, like—just don’t touch me in inappropriate places anymore,” Spence finishes and crosses his arms over his chest. It feels kind of weird, but he has to keep up a certain composure. He looks curiously at Ryan, who is standing next to him in front of the table in the lounge, hoping he found the right words and didn’t come off as a total idiot.

Brendon looks a bit disturbed. He blinks twice and then folds his hands on the table. Jon doesn’t look too distressed, but then, you can’t really tell with Jon.

“I’m sure it’s just temporary,” Spence says and Ryan nods hopefully, and tentatively pats his shoulder. Spence juts his hips and tilts a brow at Brendon and Jon.

Jon kind of laughs and says, “You make a very pretty girl, though.”

“Shut up,” Spence says and flicks him off.


.


It’s not the hormones that get Spence at first – they do, but later – it’s the way those that know start treating him. Ryan doesn’t snuggle close anymore and doesn’t drape his arm over his shoulder casually and doesn’t crawl into Spence’s bunk at night anymore to show him a new verse or just to listen to music or talk.

Spence doesn’t quite understand; he doesn’t dress differently, and as far as he can tell from the short moments he dares to look into the mirror, he might be a bit rounder than before, a bit softer, and his girl jeans might fit even better, but he doesn’t look all that different. It’s not like he’s suddenly wearing low-cut dresses and high-heels.

Even worse than Ryan’s silent avoidance, is Brendon. In general. In the past three days, Spence got groped two times in the kitchenette when he was trying to make coffee, twice in the lounge when he was close to beating Brendon in Guitar Hero and even once in his own bunk when Brendon crawled inside and asked Spence for help with the DVD-player.

Spence tries to ignore it at first, but when it becomes obvious that Brendon isn’t just being his annoying, tactile self, Spence decides it’s better to not play Guitar Hero anymore or make coffee or sleep.


.


During practice, Spence can finally drum again. It’s different, yes, but also not, because he still has the rhythm, the sound, inside him, and for the first time in days, he feels like himself, really himself again. He finishes and sweeps his sweaty hair from his eyes. His arms are buzzing pleasantly, and he feels like playing more and more until his arms give out.

He looks up, expectantly, at Ryan, who bites his lip and then nods. “Doesn’t sound too different,” he says and smiles tentatively at Spence.

“No,” Brendon says and taps his foot. “No, that’s not working, seriously, Spence.”

Spence tilts a brow at him; he feels his insides twinge a little, but there’s no way he’s going to show that to Brendon.

“I mean,” Brendon says, chin raised, and Ryan glances at him warningly, maybe, and Jon lets his bass sink. “I mean, I can’t sing with you like that. They jiggle. That’s just impossible.” Brendon grins, this little smirk that shows he knows his words are hitting right and deep, even before Spence can quite realize what he’s said.

He feels his cheeks flush, first embarrassment, then anger, heart beat speeding up, even faster, and he feels his mouth twitch. He’s not going to scream at Brendon, he tells himself. He’s so above that. He’s. He’s trembling, and then he’s flinging his sticks at Brendon, straight at him, with all his power before he even knows what he’s doing.

“Fuck you, Brendon,” he hisses and gets up, reaching for his hoodie and pulling it on quickly. He can feel the sweat trickle down his neck into his T-shirt, but he doesn’t want to feel any more naked than necessary right now. Tries not to run, when he walks backstage. Calm, Spence, he tells himself. He can do this.


.


Spence is tired. He just played a show and then there was a signing, and screaming fans, and it was difficult trying to stay in the background, stay out of the range of cameras. He wants to curl up in his bunk with his iPod and a book, and not hang out in a club and watch Jon and Brendon get drunk.

At least, he thinks morosely, at least the music isn’t all that bad. And maybe it’s also nice that Jon’s thigh, his shoulder are pressed against Spence’s, warm and comfortable, while he argues animatedly with Brendon over whether Spiderman can even be called a classic superhero because Brendon doesn’t think so.

Spence watches Ryan glare at Brendon from the corner of his eye, and has to smile a little when he remembers when they were still small – small, only a few years ago, really – when Ryan thought he could relate to Peter Parker in his lonely weariness.

“It’s cute when you smile,” Jon whispers against his ear suddenly, and Spence can smell the beer on his breath, and knows Jon is just being nice and maybe a little funny.

“Spiderman is a superhero,” Spence says sternly, not sure what else to answer, and Jon chuckles and nods.

“You’re just saying that because you’re a girl,” Brendon quips, and Spence intentionally turns away to ignore him.

Ryan sighs audibly and swats Brendon’s arm. “He’s a superhero alright,” he says, and Spence can see the determination to protect his childhood hero in his eyes.

“Well, you’re a girl anyway, Ross,” Brendon answers. “That’s not news.”

Jon giggles against his fist, and Spence stares at him, feeling betrayed. “Hey,” Jon says then. “Girls are more awesome anyway.”

Spence doesn’t quite know what to say to this, because none of the answers (yes, or no, or maybe) is a possibility for him. He closes his eyes for a moment, then takes a sip from his orange juice and tries to think of something witty to say even though it’s probably already far too late.

Brendon and Ryan banter quietly, still Spiderman, or maybe they’re now talking about spiders in general? – Spence can’t quite tell, it’s too loud, and Jon is all warm against him. He opens his mouth to say so in a bout of madness, when suddenly a slim, sparsely clad body comes to a stop next to Jon.

Spence follows Jon’s eye up, and there’s this girl who’s maybe their age and wearing very little and Spence thinks she looks oddly plastic. She’s asking Jon – only Jon – for an autograph and Jon smiles solemnly and signs her ticket stub. When she leans in to hug him – they do, they always do – Spence doesn’t miss the look in Jon’s eyes. It’s there, only for a second, a tiny moment, and it’s not like Spence blames him – he’d have looked too, hell, he did look too – yet it makes him feel something.

He zips up his hoodie, higher, to his chin and crosses his arms over his chest. He can’t help but think of his own reflection, and compare, and god, that’s such a girly thing to do, and he hates it, and he doesn’t understand why he cares about that anyway. It’s not like it matters how big his thighs are or how tiny his waist is or that his boobs are small because he’s a boy.


.


“I think you owe that to me,” Brendon says over the breakfast table. He looks rather serious, despite his mouthful of Lucky Charms. “Besides you’re a boy anyway. It’s like showing me your Penthouse or something.”

“Shut up,” Jon says, and Spence says at the same time, “You’re an asshole, Brendon.”

Brendon slinks back against the couch, visibly offended. “We’re friends,” he tries after a moment, and Spence glares at him. He’s not in the mood to put up with that now; he’s not in the mood to put up with any of Brendon’s bullshit right now.

Jon rubs his back soothingly, before taking another sip of coffee, and Spence feels miraculously better.


.


Spence flops onto his back on the hotel bed, and closes his eyes. He feels a little dizzy, a little more tired than usually after shows; his hair is still damp from his shower and he wants to curl up.

“Hey,” Jon says exiting from the bathroom, and Spence turns his head to watch him sit down on the second bed. “You okay?”

“Hm,” Spence answers and nods. “Just tired.”

“You played well tonight,” Jon says and Spence smiles, blushes a little maybe.

“Let’s watch a movie,” Spencer says and rolls onto his stomach, fiddling for the remote and switching the TV on.

Jon is silent for a few moments while Spence skips through the channels, and then says, “Hey, can I like, come over to your bed?”

“Sure.” Spence makes space and Jon plops down on his stomach next to him, toes bumping against Spencer’s. He settles on some chick flick because mostly that’s something you don’t have to concentrate on. They watch for a while, and Spence feels comfortable, drifting off slowly, Jon warm against him.

On screen the heroine turns to kiss her boyfriend. Something inside Spence coils and uncoils uncomfortably and he speaks before he can stop himself, “Man, I’ll miss that.”

Jon turns to look at him, brows furrowed. “Miss what?”

And now Spence can’t go back of course, because if he does it’s like squirming out and Spencer Smith does not squirm out of things. “Sex. I mean, or you know that I’m probably never – not again —“ he drifts off a little at Jon’s confused look, cheeks flushing.

“Why?” Jon asks curiously, half a smile on his lips, eyes interested.

Spence huffs a little and tilts a brow at him because does he honestly have to point out the obvious? He scrunches up his nose and watches realization dawn on Jon’s face. His reaction, though, is not what Spence expected.

“Yeah, so?” Jon smiles a little. “Girls can have sex, too.” He pauses and adds in a small voice, “Thank god.”

Spence opens his mouth and wants to point out that he’s not really a girl, and that if he has sex with a guy it’s totally gay, and if he has sex with a girl it’s equally gay, but Jon seems to understand anyway because he continues before Spence can say anything. “That’s totally just inside your head. It doesn’t actually matter.” And smiles again, this sweet, sweet smile he has when he explains something to Brendon or when he comforts Ryan when he’s emo, and Spence bites his lip, not sure what to say.


.


So, yes, Spence misses sex. It wasn’t like that at the beginning, but in hindsight Spence believes it was because of stress and getting used to the new body. And it’s really interesting, purely scientifically, because Spence didn’t think girls would feel like that, too. He would be amazed at this realization if it weren’t for the fact that there’s this implacable ache, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

Jon’s words are still echoing in his head; they have been for the past week, and maybe they’re the reason he got over himself last night and snaked his hands down his boxers in the middle of the night, trying to find the source of this ache. It wasn’t quite weird, and he tried not to think of Emily Stix from 12th grade who allowed him a few tentative touches shortly before graduation. It’s maybe a little awkward, a different angle, not knowing where to touch and how. It takes some time, a little pushing, like probing, applying more or less pressure here and there, and he figures it out, eventually, legs kicked apart, the side of his face pressed into the pillow, breathing hard, trying to swallow his moans. Afterwards he flops down, face burning, and wondering how he could ever think being a girl was bad.


.


Spence likes chocolate. He has always liked chocolate; one of his first memories is that of his grandmother baking a chocolate cake for him, and then that of his aunt telling him not to eat too much chocolate. Maybe that’s the reason he will always, always feel guilty for every ounce of chocolate he eats.

Okay, so, maybe he loves chocolate, he thinks and licks his fingertips free of stains. Brendon enters from the bunk section. He falls down bonelessly on the couch next to Spence, reaches for an empty Hershey wrapper and gives Spence a questioning glance.

“Hm?” Spence says, looking past the screen of his laptop.

“Dude, are you like,” Brendon grins and Spence braces himself. “gaining weight? You eat a lot of chocolate. You totally look rounder.”

Spence opens and closes his mouth, puts his laptop down and slaps Brendon with all the force he can muster. His hand stings and he walks out of the lounge brusquely, feeling stupid for not hitting Brendon properly, but like a fucking girl. Slap him like a fucking girl, and the only effect it had is his hand hurting now. He should have broken his fucking nose for that. He pushes past Ryan, who gives him a curious, concerned look, and crawls into his bunk.

“Hey,” Ryan’s voice says. “Are you. Are you okay?”

“Go away,” Spence hisses and hugs his knees to his chest. He can’t remember ever saying this to Ryan, and feels bad even before the words leave his mouth. Ryan doesn’t try again, and that makes him feel even worse. He turns on his iPod and plugs in the earphones and closes his eyes, throat tight. He feels like breaking apart inside, which is stupid and emo and so not himself.

“Spence?” a voice says and Jon peeks in between the curtains. Spence looks up and Jon just climbs in without asking. He sits down, curled up on the other end of the bunk, touching toes with Spence. Spence sniffs and rubs his eyes, and he totally wasn’t about to cry, really. Jon gives him a worried look and rubs his calf.

“I just. I,” Spence starts and then chokes a little on his voice and tears, and fuck, he’s such a girl.

“It’s okay,” Jon says and gently rubs both of Spence’s knees.

“I just, this is all too much, and Brendon just doesn’t get it,” he finally presses out. Jon nods encouragingly and Spence feels as though he can tell him anything without being judged or looked at funnily. “It’s not like this is easy, this fucking sucks. Most of the time,” he adds quietly. “And I can’t—I’m trying to deal with this and not make it harder for everyone else.” He wipes his eyes. “I can’t even take a shower or look myself in the mirror without freaking out.”

“Come here,” Jon says and tugs, pulling him into a hug. Spence sighs and gives in, hiding his face against Jon’s chest.

“I’m so tired of this hiding shit. But if I don’t people will find out and then I’m just, just a freak.” He presses closer. “All I want to do is play the drums.”

“It’ll be okay,” Jon says and hugs him more tightly, petting his hair. Spence closes his eyes, feeling much lighter than before. Jon’s arms are warm and strong and inoffensive around him, and it’s the first real hug in weeks because Ryan seems unable to touch him and Brendon just wants to grope him if he gets the chance. But Jon holds him tightly, and smells so, so good and Spence wants Jon to never let go even though it’s uncomfortable and cramped and Jon’s head is probably pressed against the ceiling.

“Wow,” Jon says eventually. “That’s a lot you were holding back.”

“Hm,” Spence answers muffled against Jon’s T-shirt. “Nobody to talk to.”

“Hey, hey,” Jon says and brushes his hand through Spence’s hair. “Whenever, you know, you can talk to me.”

Spence wants to tell him that that’s really sweet of him and that he hasn’t heard anything as nice in weeks, but all he can say is, “Man, you have no idea. The cramps, the sex thing.” He laughs a little and pulls back, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I’m there for you, okay?” Jon smiles, and adds, “as cheesy as it sounds. And, I’ll, if that’s okay with you, I’ll talk to Brendon?”

Spence nods and Jon takes his face between his hands and kisses the top of his head before climbing out of the bunk. A few minutes later, he can hear Brendon protesting loudly and then apologizing and Jon’s calm, quiet voice in between.


.


Sometime during the night Spence wakes because somebody is climbing into his bunk; he sits up and scoots back and then kicks Brendon in the ribs to make him go away.

“Fuck off,” he hisses. “You are so not supposed to be here, like, at all.” He fumbles for his pen so he can stab Brendon in the eye and continue sleeping.

“No, look, Spence,” Brendon starts, ignoring Spence’s kicks. “I. You.” He bites his lip and Spence stops because he’s tired and if Brendon wanted to grope he’d have done it by now.

“I’m sorry,” Brendon says after a few moments of lip-chewing and thrusts a box of chocolates into Spence’s general direction. Spence blinks, trying to compute what Brendon is saying.

“I’m a total asshole, I’m sorry I made your life harder than necessary,” Brendon continues and that totally sounds like something Jon would say. “I just – like, I didn’t mean to be mean. Or I did, but I thought you’d find it funny or, fuck, Spence?”

Spence rubs his eyes and gives Brendon an evil glare because he’s not really okay with being woken up in the middle of the night even if it involves chocolates.

“I’m sorry. Please? Forgive me, Spencer Smith?” Brendon waves the box before his eyes. “They’re caramel.”

“You’re an asshole, true,” Spence answers eventually after watching Brendon squirm for a few minutes. He really does look sorry. “But I also like caramel.”

“Yay!” Brendon exclaims and then tackles him, hugging him softly and totally appropriately. Spence hugs back shortly and then pushes until Brendon climbs from his bunk again.


.


“Hey,” Ryan says and sits down next to him right before the show, with three minutes left. He has purple make-up all over his eyes and is blinking as though liquid eyeliner got in his eye again.

Spence gestures and asks, “Need help with that?”

“Oh, no, no,” Ryan replies, “it’s okay.” Blinks again and then, “Or, actually, yeah, please.” He scoots a little closer until their knees touch. Spence leans in and starts picking black flecks from Ryan’s left eye with careful, steady fingers.

“Thank you,” Ryan says eyes turned upwards, nose scrunching up, steadying himself with his hands on Spence’s knees. When Spence is done, he shortly presses his forehead against Spence’s and Spence complains about the make-up and that he’ll look stupid with random make-up stains on his face, but he pulls Ryan close and hugs him tightly. Ryan chuckles, sighs and hugs back, and yeah, that’s good. For the first time in weeks, Spence feels as though everything will be okay again.


.


It’s not like Spence hasn’t forgiven Brendon, because he has, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to room with him, and not only for the groping-reasons, but mostly because Brendon wakes approximately five hours before Spence usually does and that’s some math Spence doesn’t want to do.

When he’s done with his shower and returns from the bathroom, Jon is lounging barefoot on Spence’s bed with Spence’s iPod and Spence’s box of chocolates (from Brendon). He tilts his brow at Jon and sits down next to him, pulling his knees up.

“That’s kind of my stuff,” he says and, “And caramel are my favorite.”

Jon grins at him and says around a mouthful of chocolate, “I kind of helped get them, so—“ He drifts off and Spence purses his lips and lies down next to him, feeling a little fluttery, a little giddy inside. Jon is warm and wonderful and awesome next to him and smells just amazing.

He turns on the TV absently and settles down comfortably, trying not to snuggle too obviously, though he suspects that Jon has noticed anyway because Jon isn’t dumb.

“So,” Jon starts after a while, gaze fluttering to Spence shortly, before fixing on the TV again. “So, have you like, overcome your mental blocks yet?” He laughs a little, scratching his head, and Spence can’t help but blush. He shakes his head.

“What? Why?” Jon looks genuinely baffled and sits up to better look at Spencer. “You’re a pretty girl!”

“Uhm,” Spence says, not sure what to say because Jon is so hard to read, and does he mean that now or is he just being Jon? “It’s not like. I mean, I’d like to try it, know what it feels like.” It’s out before he can stop himself, and yeah, it’s true, so.

“I—I would,” Jon begins, but stops.

Spence hears his words anyway, and he thinks ‘to hell with it’ and asks, trying to sound clinical, “Like hypothetically, or?”

“Uhm,” Jon says and his gaze wanders to Spence’s mouth and maybe a bit lower, but Spence doesn’t mind. This is different, he thinks. The way Jon looks at him is different; he looks at him like he’s still the ordinary Spencer Smith, but his eyes are softer, there’s something appreciative in them that makes Spence’s heart beat faster.

And yeah, he thinks, he gets it. He leans over and softly kisses Jon on the lips, tentatively because he doesn’t want to screw this up or scare himself by how good this feels. Jon makes a humming noise and kisses back softly before Spence pulls away a little surprised at himself.

Jon reaches up and thumbs Spence’s lower lip and asks, “Can I?” Spence nods and Jon kisses him again, cupping his cheek and tilting his chin a little so the angle fits better. It’s sweet and soft and makes something inside him uncoil and ache, saccharine and a little alien, so much want, so much need. He tugs at Jon’s T-shirt, and Jon pulls away giving him a worried, questioning look.

“Are you, I mean, are you really okay with this?”

“Never been better,” Spence hisses and finally gets the T-shirt over Jon’s head, leaving him a little ruffled, and then kisses him decidedly and with tongue and all until Jon kisses back. Jon feels even warmer skin to skin, Spence’s hands on his chest and it feels even better when he finally gets his own hoodie and T-shirt off. Jon’s touches are hesitant, but Spence presses against him resolutely, needing more contact.

They tear at each other’s remaining clothes between kisses and touching and somehow Spence ends up on his back with Jon on top of him. He squirms a little, feeling Jon’s cock against his leg, and then reaches up to pull him down for a kiss.

“Jon,” he says, shifting a little. “Fuck me.”

Jon makes a tiny noise and kisses Spence’s brow. “Are you sure? Because I mean, this is kind of huge for you and I don’t want to, I mean if you’re not totally okay with this, I’m totally okay with kissing and—“

“Jon,” Spence interrupts and pulls Jon’s hand from his waist to his right breast. It fits snugly there, and Spence thanks god that Jon Walker also knows when to shut up and do what he’s told.


.


Spence wakes with Jon’s arm around his waist and his face pressed against Spence’s back. He feels a little stiff and a little too hot to be comfortable; he also has to pee. He pushes and pulls a little, carefully slipping from Jon’s embrace and wanders to the bathroom, quietly not to wake Jon. When he comes back, he sits down on the bed and buries his face in his hands because, dude, his dick is back and he really didn't think he'd ever think this, but it's probably the worst time ever to be turning back into a guy.

Jon shifts behind him, waking, and Spence sighs, hands clenching to fists. “So, uhm. I’m flat, yeah,” he grumbles and yeah, that’s definitely frustration in his voice.

Jon slides closer, sitting behind Spence and kisses his neck. “I like them.”

“No, no,” Spence wails and turns a little to face Jon. “They’re gone, okay? I’m a real boy again.”

Jon grins and says, “But that’s great, isn’t it?”

Spence doesn’t know what to say to that, or he does and doesn’t know how. He fidgets for a moment. “This means that we, you know, just go back to normal again?”

“Oh,” Jon says and looks a little sad after the first confusion has passed. “If that’s what you want.” He shrugs, looking a little helpless, a little sleepy.

“Yeah, it’s not like – I’m a guy again, so,” Spence drifts off, waving his hand. Jon looks kind of crushed now. Spence wants to kiss him and make it all better but he thinks Jon would probably disapprove of guy-kissing.

“Yeah,” Jon says, and then, “actually, no. Because Spence—“ His gaze flickers from Spence’s eyes to his mouth and Spence doesn’t quite have the time (or the will) to pull back before Jon kisses him softly on the mouth. Okay, Spence thinks, kissing back. So Jon Walker doesn’t disapprove of guy-kissing.

“I,” Jon says pulling back. “I really, I mean. I don’t care.”

“Huh,” Spence says and then blinks, understanding dawning on him. And then he doesn’t have much time for thoughts or answers because Jon kisses him again and Spence decides there are much more important things than rethinking his sexual orientation, more important things like kissing Jon back properly, for example.