Instead of thinking 'Idiot boy, drink more water! Get some sleep!' my first thought was 'Why is no one hugging him?' Apparently that means I had to go ahead and write the obligatory post-show snuggle. Um?
I really want to call this an episode-tag... except for the part where it's a real-life-tag. I'm not sure those have names.
Title: And A Man Can Raise A Thirst
Rating: Gen, so very gen.
Warnings: Um, schmoop? So much schmoop.
Thanks to lost_faeri for audiencing.
It’s not like Brendon expects to get besieged by hugs or anything when they get off stage in Singapore, but he thinks it would have been kind of nice to get one.
Instead he gets a bottle of water from Zack, an “eww, my God, Brendon, seriously?” from Ryan and a shoulder-squeeze from Jon. Jon is totally his favourite.
He can’t see Spencer straight away which sucks because Spencer is the one most likely to give him comforting hugs and warm loving rubs and all the things that people should get when stupid time zones and stupid weather – and possibly one ill-advised but equally stupid beer – make them puke.
They find Spencer already backstage, looking kind of pale and splashing his face with water from the sink in the corner. Guiltily, Brendon remembers just how not-keen Spencer is on seeing other people throw-up.
“Hey,” Brendon says. He sways just a little bit on his way across the room, but he’s still moving under his own steam and he thinks he should get points for that. “I’m totally fucking sorry, are you okay?”
Spencer shakes water out of his hair and lifts his head. The non-beard parts of his face are really white. “I’m good,” he says which is a) clearly a lie and b) totally to be expected. He reaches out a hand and presses it to Brendon’s forehead. “Are you?”
“You’re all stubborn fucking idiots,” Zack says before Brendon can say anything. That’s kind of lucky really because Brendon feels like shit and he hates having to lie. “Now are you going to listen to me about rehydrating?”
Jon’s already chugging down a bottle of water so he just waves his agreement and Ryan rolls his eyes but takes the bottle that Zack forces into his hand. Ryan’s probably fine, he’s way better at dealing with heat than any of the rest of them – of course the average dinosaur is better at adapting to climate change than Brendon so he doesn’t give Ryan too much credit.
“Okay?” Spencer asks again, ignoring Zack, which Spencer never does.
Weirdly, now they’re inside and it’s cooler and the lights are dimmer, Brendon’s head is starting to pound more. “Maybe,” he hazards. He actually feels really weird. Not sick anymore just… floaty, like maybe he’s not really here.
“Brendon?” Spencer says sharply and Brendon can’t quite work out why except oh, he’s maybe leaning against Spencer’s chest now and hmm, there are lights flashing behind his eyes. He thinks maybe they’re from cameras but no, Zack would yelling if there were cameras.
“Jesus Christ,” he hears someone who sounds like Zack say except Zack is all the way over the other side of the room and whoa. Brendon’s feet are suddenly no longer on the floor and he’s definitely not imagining that. He turns his face into the shoulder of whoever has lifted him up and, finding that it smells suitably Zack-like, lets himself pass out.
Brendon wakes up somewhere cool and dark with a conveniently placed metal bucket on the floor and a bottle of Gatorade on the bedside table. This is totally his favourite room ever.
Brendon is fully prepared to love Asia, he decides, the minute he’s gotten some more sleep.
There’s a soft knock on the door when he’s half way through his Gatorade. He makes a face at the bottle just on principle then looks up and puts on his best grin for Spencer.
“Hey,” Spencer says. He’s talking quietly which Brendon appreciates even though his headache is way better now.
“Spencer,” Brendon says – or, okay, croaks. Where’s his voice gone? he hopes it comes back – and makes grabby hands at him.
Spencer smiles and comes into the room, closing the door behind him. “How are you feeling?” he asks. He’s wearing loose pyjama pants and a proper OC-inspired wifebeater and he looks awesomely cool and refreshed.
“All better,” Brendon promises. He pats the bed and Spencer obligingly crawls up beside him. “There’s gonna be like, a million vids of me puking on YouTube, isn’t there?”
Spencer smirks but shakes his head. “Jon’s only found one so far. All the rest cut out just before or are too busy focusing on Ryan or something.”
Brendon grins. Ryan’s always had a following but it’s been going up and up since he’s discovered a style that doesn’t make him look like a girl or an old man.
“It’s all over Livejournal though,” Spencer tells him. “Shane’s called a couple of hundred times to check we haven’t killed you.”
“What did you tell him?” Brendon asks, toying with the label on his bottle.
Spencer takes the bottle out of Brendon’s hands and puts it on the table on his side of the bed. “That it serves him right for not coming with.”
Brendon laughs. They toured for years before they met Shane but it still feels weird now to be on stage and not be able to look over and see his camera and his stupid hat.
Spencer yawns and stretches his arms up high above his head. Brendon’s tempted to poke him under the arms where the hair is pale and thick but he gets distracted by one of the sleeves of the wifebeater, which slips off Spencer’s shoulder and down his arm. His shoulder is freckled and smooth and Brendon might maybe never have the energy to fuck anyone ever again but there’s no harm in looking.
“Can I sleep here?” Spencer asks. He’s already slid down onto his elbows, his face flushed and heavy with tiredness. “Or will that make you too hot?”
Brendon opens his mouth to say something flippant; the set up is just too easy to resist, but Spencer’s eyes are sliding shut and Brendon manages to hold his tongue.
Well, almost. “You always make me hot,” he says but he says it softly, while he’s scooting down the bed and tucking himself under Spencer’s arm so all he gets is a sleepy tap on the head rather than a full-on eye-roll/smack combination.
Spencer flattens one hand against the small of Brendon’s back, keeping him near but not holding him too close. It’s cool in the hotel room but Brendon’s skin still feels stretched too tight so he appreciates all the breeze he can get.
“You’re okay now right?” Spencer asks into Brendon’s hair.
Brendon smiles against Spencer’s chest. “You asked me that,” he says.
“Mm,” Spencer hums. He’s always pretty agreeable when he’s sleepy. “You’re kind of an idiot,” he says. It’s something Spencer says to all of them at least a hundred times a day. It’s accompanied by a poke in the ribs this time though so Brendon knows he means it.
“Shut up,” Brendon grumbles. “My head hurts.”
“Because you’re an idiot,” Spencer reiterates. But he rouses himself enough to rearrange them so that Brendon’s head is properly on the pillow. It doesn’t feel as good as Spencer’s chest but it’s cooler and right now that’s pretty awesome.
Spencer props himself up over Brendon and pushes his hair back out of his eyes. “Do you need anything?” Spencer fusses a lot more than the rest of them but he does it in this totally matter-of-fact way with totally serious eyes so it’s really hard to make fun of him for it.
“No,” Brendon says. He tangles his hand in the collar of Spencer’s shirt and gets a kiss on the knuckles as a reward. He tugs a little until Spencer lies back down, his head barely an inch from Brendon’s on the pillow. “How long do we have?”
He vaguely remembers being told the schedule before they went on stage, but everything from getting off the plane is kind of a blur.
Spencer closes his eyes and breathes out a sigh. “We’re sleeping here tonight. I think you freaked Zack out.”
Ooh, awesome, Brendon loves unexpected hotel nights. “Zack?” Brendon asks innocently. “No one else?”
Spencer’s lips curve up into a smile but he doesn’t open his eyes. “Nah, no one else really likes you.”
Brendon sticks his tongue out which, close as they are, means that he ends up licking Spencer’s cheek. Totally by accident, of course.
“Well now I don’t like you,” Spencer tells him, twitching his nose like a rabbit, but he still doesn’t open his eyes.
Brendon scoots as close as he can until they’re sharing air. He lets his eyes fall closed as well. “You totally love me.”
“Dude.” Each puff of Spencer’s breath warms Brendon’s cheek but in the air-conditioned room that’s okay. “You nearly puked on me.”
“Yet here you are,” Brendon says. He is totally right about this.
Spencer’s silent for a minute then he laughs, surrendering. “Yeah,” he says. He puts his arm over Brendon’s chest - anchoring him, Brendon thinks, in case his head tries to float away again. “Here I am.”