ficlet: shoulders, toes & knees (jon/spencer, r)
shoulders, toes & knees (i'm 36 degrees)
Jon/Spencer, R
1 377 words

title from 36 Degrees by Placebo; thanks to Chelle & Kate for beta and concrit!

Spence is all smooth, white skin, freckly shoulders and soft belly; his eyes are always cold and wry, amused and observant, but not quiet. He reminds Jon of his cat at home, the way he’s sneaking silently to the kitchenette of the Academy bus to peek into the fridge and cupboards for something edible, for drinks, because he’s nosy. The way he curls up in their bus sometimes, hands tucked under his head to watch William and Ryan play Guitar Hero, the gentle curve of his hips making Jon’s insides tingle.

Jon uses a whole one gigabyte flashcard nearly solely on Spencer in the first two days of their UK tour; Spencer leaning against a counter at Starbucks, Spencer going through T-shirts, Spencer trying on sneakers, Spencer dancing to some silly song, Spencer hugging Ryan, Spencer with his feet tucked under Brendon’s thighs, reading.

He notices only after loading the photos on his laptop; his heart clenches a little maybe and at the next copyshop they pass, he prints out a shot of Spencer bathed in golden sunlight and pins it to the ceiling of his bunk, telling himself it’s for its artistic value, the lightning is really good.

On the eighth day in the UK, Spencer crosses his legs, tilts a brow when Jon raises his camera to take another picture and muses out loud whether he should start charging Jon. Brendon kind of giggles, and Jon blushes despite himself and puts his camera away. He doesn’t shoot one picture after that even though his fingers itch for the feel of the camera, ears straining to hear the sound of the shutter.

He gets drunk in a small pub that night with some of the other guys, and Jon convinced Brendon to join them, and Brendon’s all darkhaired, wet-eyed and smashed, clinging to anyone who’ll stand still long enough. At closing time they move to the bus and break into the Butcher’s stash of alcohol, and around two Spencer comes barging in. He looks tired and his stare is cold and angry. He drags Brendon to his feet and tells William to shut the fuck up and never pull something like this again. Jon swallows and opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Spencer has already ushered Brendon outside.

Jon sleeps horribly that night, and when he wakes up the next day, Ryan isn’t speaking to Brendon and Brendon looks small and miserable and Spencer keeps shooting William cold looks. Before the show, Jon can’t take it any longer and goes to talk to Spence. He tells him it was him who convinced Brendon to drink and that he’s sorry, and Spence can hit him if it makes him feel better.

Spence stares at him for a moment, lips pursed, thinking and then slaps Jon half-heartedly; Jon starts laughing and tells Spence that he’s never been hit in a more girly way by a guy. Spence huffs and puts his hands to his hips and tells Jon that he usually does not bode to such lowly behavior, thank you very much. Jon grins, and rubs his cheek and says that Spence can try again if he likes, and Spence admits that his hand kinda hurts from the first time already, so he’d rather Jon buy him a coffee.

Jon says he will but only if Spence lets him take pictures again; Spence quirks a brow, makes a sound and Jon shrugs, defeated. He buys Spencer a venti hazelnut latte at the nearest Starbucks, which seems to placate him immensely. He sinks into one of the plum armchairs, one hand between his thighs, sipping his coffee appraisingly. Jon sits on the couch opposite to Spencer and drinks his double espresso, watching him.

Spencer sits like a royal and looks like a cat, smug, all long limbs and lazy smile. Jon hesitates for a few seconds and then fishes out his Polaroid camera and takes a picture before Spence can move. At the sound of the shutter, Spence turns slowly, looking at Jon over the brim of his paper cup, but doesn’t say anything as Jon slowly shakes the photo into existence.

Later, after the show Jon climbs on the Panic! van to apologize to Ryan. Ryan is mad at him for a bit, eyes dark, lips in a straight line, but Jon keeps talking until Ryan’s face gets softer. He leaves half an hour later and finds Spencer sitting alone on top of the Academy bus, swinging his legs; behind him the sun is setting, pink and orange and a weird shade of indigo.

Jon fumbles for his camera, adjusts, presses the trigger, once, twice, thrice in order not to miss this moment. When he looks up again, Spencer’s grinning, hands on the edge of the roof, looking down at him. Jon asks him what he’s doing up there, after a second, and walks closer. Spencer replies that the Panic bus is too high and tilts his head, the long line of his neck white and delicate in the evening light. He seems to hesitate for a moment before he asks Jon to come up, voice a little unsteady.

Jon considers the height of the bus and Spencer for a moment and kicks off his flipflops and hands Spencer his camera bag. He climbs up with difficulty via a wheel and a window and ends up panting, his heart racing on the roof top. Spencer leans back and looks at him, eyes amused, and tells him that there’s a ladder on the other side.

Jon freezes for a moment, considers Spencer’s smirk and then wrestles him down, tickling him until he’s begging for mercy, batting at Jon’s shoulder’s feebly, face red from laughing. Jon stops, feeling bubbly and lightheaded; he leans down and rubs his nose against Spencer’s and hears Spencer catch his breath. He hesitates for a moment and then kisses him softly. Spencer sighs and molds against him, arms around his shoulders, lips soft and welcoming.

They break apart for little breaths and words and continue with slow open-mouthed kisses until William throws stones at them and calls them hussies, voice cracking with laughter. Jon curls up in his bunk that night, Sidekick close to his face, texting to and fro with Spencer, about this and that, and suddenly there’s talk of touching and licking and sucking and Jon buries his hand in his boxer shorts and anxiously awaits Spencer’s reply.

They’re off the next day, and William calls Ryan before they stop to suggest going to the movies. It’s kind of weird, sitting next to Spencer and watching a stupid action film, and Jon can’t not remember the texts saved away on his phone, can’t not remember the way they kissed and how Spence felt under his hands. Spencer is shooting him small looks once in a while, half-smiling or biting his lip, and Jon doesn’t quite know what to make of them, doesn’t know if they mean anything.

He finds out later, that yes, they meant something, and yes, Spencer felt the same in the cinema, when they’re alone on the Panic bus and Spencer pushes him up against the bunks, mewling his name and worming his hands into Jon’s jeans. Jon’s so hard he can barely see straight and pulls at Spencer clothes and they tumble into the closest bunk, wiggling out of socks and pants and everything else. It feels so easy and natural, and Jon wonders why it took them so long. They mold against each other like puzzle pieces, perfect and wonderful, like they’re meant to be.

Spencer licks his lips, eyes shining, and leans down and blows Jon slowly. Jon nearly comes and pushes Spencer off, and Spencer laughs and leans back in the narrow space of the bunk, legs spread. He clings to Jon, clutching his arms when Jon fucks him, slowly at first, but then harder, whining, breathy moans, digging his nails into Jon’s skin as Jon’s fingers leave dark bruises on his hips.

Later they curl up and Jon entwines his fingers with Spencer’s, kisses his shoulder, rubs their toes together under the sheets, their knees locking when he buries his face in the soft hair of Spencer’s neck, inhaling sunshine and warmth.

***