How a Resurrection Really Feels

6

Spencer places the last pot of water on the stove. His good arm is sore from all the bucket lifting and carrying, but he's craving for a bath, even more now that he's gone to the well a dozen times. Once the water has been heated up, he empties it into the tub in the bathroom and then does the process all over again, and again, and again, marching between the two rooms that are next to each other.

Jon has been helping him. Spencer's burnt hand doesn't hurt that much anymore, but it did when he first started carrying the buckets. Jon appeared out of nowhere, and without even saying a word, he took the bucket and began to carry it back to the house for him. Spencer really can't wait for the last of the water to heat up already so that he can sink into the tub full of hot water.

Jon sits quietly by the kitchen table, and Spencer figures that the least he can do is to make them some coffee. He takes two mugs from the cupboard and leaves them to wait for the water to boil.

He takes a seat opposite Jon and looks around. The house has never been cleaner. In fact, he doubts that he has ever been in such a clean place in his life, and it's kind of uncomfortable. It looks better, definitely, but because of the immaculateness in which he now lives, he feels dirtier than he really is.

It's all Brendon's fault.

After the failed ransom, Brendon has spent his time freely inside the house. Spencer already told him that he really doesn't have to keep doing chores – except for the cooking and dishwashing – but apparently, cleaning and washing make Brendon happy. Spencer just lets him be. He's noticed Brendon's a bit weird, anyway.

Brendon slowly seems to be feeling better, though, even if just yesterday he caught Brendon washing the windows with a dead expression, thoughts clearly somewhere far away and morbid. He feels bad for the kid and vaguely guilty too. Brendon getting rejected was just a sad consequence of a plan that went wrong, a plan that he crafted. Sometimes you have to ruin other people's lives in order to gain something. That's how Spencer's life has always worked. In one gang or another, he has stolen things, threatened people and occasionally eliminated rivals just to obtain something. It was the price he had to pay, and he has always been fine with it.

But now, the life that Brendon once knew is gone. Not only did they ruin a young boy's life, but they gained nothing by doing it. Everyone loses.

"What's troubling you?" Jon asks, breaking the silence.

Spencer blinks, trying to figure out if he should laugh or be upset. Is Jon really asking him that?

"I don't know. Everything? We have this kid in here, eventually we'll run out of food and I –"

Spencer can't even finish the sentence because he can't admit to Jon that he still doesn't know what to do.

Jon being there with them puts too much pressure on him right now. If it was just about him and Ryan, he wouldn't have to worry. There's nothing he would have to prove since, even if Ryan would never accept it, Spencer is the one who leads the two of them. But Jon is different. Spencer still doesn't know what Jon is doing with a bunch of losers like them, and he needs to prove that he's a good leader.

If Spencer doesn't worry about their future, who will?

"I've told you not to worry," Jon states firmly. "Something will come up."

The fucking problem is that that something has to 'come up' from Spencer's head, but Spencer doesn't tell Jon that. Instead he says, "I'm worried about Brendon." He knows he's changing the topic, but he is genuinely worried about the Urie.

Jon frowns. "He seems better."

"Well, yeah, that's not what I'm worried about, but about what Ryan might do to him." Jon snorts, and Spencer can't help laughing. "Dude, I'm being serious! Haven't you seen the way Brendon stares at Ryan and follows him around like a fucking puppy?"

Ryan couldn't be more pleased; he's a fucking attention whore. But after finding out about the blowjob incident, Spencer told Brendon that the kid could tell him if Ryan was bothering him, that Spencer would put Ryan in his place, but all Brendon said was, "He's not bothering me at all!" with a big, happy smile. Clearly suspicious.

Brendon also has a room for himself now since there is no reason to keep him tied down in the basement. The room is right opposite Spencer's, and Spencer sleeps with his door open just to be there on time when and if Ryan decides to molest the kid. Brendon clearly doesn't know what he's getting into, and Ryan is a bit of a bastard when it comes down to things like that. Spencer feels responsible for Brendon, and he doesn't want the kid getting traumatized further.

"They are both grown up guys," Jon states, and Spencer gives him a skeptical look.

"Brendon is not a grown up like us, and Ryan is a tricky bitch. It's not a good combination."

"It's probably hard for someone as..." Jon begins, clearing his throat slightly as he looks for a word, "active as Ryan to go this long without sex, though."

"He's always active. I've gone without sex longer than he has, but do you see me jumping on you and trying to molest you?"

Jon looks startled by the prospect, mouth opening to speak before closing again.

Spencer wants to die for throwing such an uncomfortable scenario at Jon, even if it was hypothetical, and he suddenly prays to God – Brendon says that He always listens – to open up the ground beneath his feet and swallow him whole. But the ground remains solid and Spencer assumes that God doesn't exist.

"Um..." Spencer starts, trying to save his sorry ass somehow.

He stands up to escape the conversation, muttering that the water for the coffee must be ready, and he focuses on his task, trying not to think about Jon shirtless like he was a few days ago. Spencer was almost passed out with a fever, but the memories remain stuck inside his head. He's clearly got some bottled up sexual frustration, and ever since that day, he has been finding it hard not to stare at Jon, knowing what he looks like half-dressed, the way those perfectly shaped, tattoo-covered muscles move. All the months he has been sex deprived are nothing compared to what it has been like these past few days, having Jon there with his stupid clothes always blocking the view.

Spencer's developed a love-hate relationship with Jon's shirt: he hates it for getting in the way but he's also grateful for it because in his state, he might otherwise try something he really shouldn't.

He is partly hoping for Jon to leave the room – Jon does that sometimes, not having much respect for common greetings like 'Hello' or 'Bye' – but Jon doesn't. Jon isn't looking at him when he turns around, though, probably already having forgotten Spencer's idiotic babbling.

"Here," he offers, placing the other mug of coffee in front of Jon. He sits back down, calmly blowing off the steam rising from his own mug. He knows they should be rationing coffee too, but truthfully, Ryan doesn't drink any and Brendon says it's a sin. How can coffee be a sin? Either way, he and Jon are the only coffee drinkers in the house, so he feels like he can decide how much they should be using.

He takes a sip, letting the liquid pour down his throat. Jon takes a sip of his. Spencer like this: they hang out, make each other coffee... kind of like normal friends might do if –

Jon makes a face, scrunching up his nose, and spits coffee back into the mug. "Oh, that's nasty," Jon says, smacking his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

"What?" he asks. His own tastes fine.

"Too sweet."

"But I – I put in two teaspoonfuls of sugar. Just how you like it."

"I like mine black," Jon corrects, standing up and emptying the mug down the drain.

Spencer stares. "Oh. Right. Sorry."

God, he can't even get this right. He just thought that Jon... When they kidnapped Brendon, they... Jon made the two of them coffee. With sugar in it. He remembers it clearly because after all the stress getting that magical coffee cup in his hands made him feel a million times better. He assumed they were both having the same thing, that Jon took his coffee the same way. He even thought how relieving it was to know they had at least one thing in common.

Which is to say that Jon prepared his coffee especially for him, dropped some sugar into Spencer's mug, like Jon knew somehow.

Spencer can't say that they know each other very well now, but they were certainly even less acquainted back then.

"Still worried about Brendon and Ryan?" Jon asks him, and he snaps out of his thoughts.

"Yeah. I guess."

His mind, however, is racing. Jon attended to his burned hand, took care of him when he had a fever. Jon knows how he likes his coffee. Jon cleaned bike parts for him when he didn't have to, and how boring can scrubbing rust be for someone who doesn't care about the project? Why is Jon doing all of this? Why did Jon leave The Snakes with them at all?

Jon's eyes seem to be lingering on him. Spencer feels horror rushing through him and he busies himself with a huge gulp of coffee. It burns his tongue, but he doesn't care.

What if Jon likes him?

No. No way. Firstly, Ryan would be the more obvious choice. Not that Spencer has low self-esteem or anything, but Ryan is prettier, and Spencer is man enough to admit that. He's gotten his fair share of attention and undressing glances in his time, but he's started to suspect that he's lost his charm. Maybe he's gotten old? That would be totally unfair as Ryan still turns heads and is a year older than him. Spencer doesn't know what it is, his looks, his personality or the lack of thereof, but during the past six months, no one in the gang showed any interest in sleeping with him. He tried not to notice, claiming he was too busy keeping an eye on Ryan to be screwing around, anyway, but fact of the matter was that everyone was fucking everyone and no one was fucking him. He's been trying not to let that get to him, but he has to face facts: he's not what other men consider a catch. He used to be, but now it's magically changed. He's probably gotten old. Therefore, Ryan would be far likelier to pique Jon's interest. But, then again, Jon can't really stand Ryan, which only leaves Spencer as possible objects of interest. But even then, this is Fifty-Two Walker, who grunts and kills and who doesn't crush on people. But it's also the Fifty-Two Walker who chivalrously has saved him and Ryan from a fate much worse than this by coming along. It's the Fifty-Two Walker who thinks Monster is cute.

God, Spencer's imagining things now. It's just coffee, for crying out loud. He wants to get into Jon's pants, or he would in some other, alternative universe where they are different people, so now he's trying to find signs of Jon returning his feelings in anything at all, like beverages.

Beverages. It's a whole new level of being a lonely fucker.

The water of the last pot has started to boil, and Spencer quickly finishes his coffee. "I'll go enjoy my bath now. Thanks for helping me," he mumbles to Jon, who nods but says nothing.

The bathroom is small with a big window out to the back – who decided it was a great idea to have an enormous window in the bathroom, Spencer doesn't know. The tub is in the middle of the room, and Spencer leaves his clothes in a pile on the green-white tiles. Steam is rising from the white tub, and he drops a bar of soap into the water before carefully getting in himself.

The water isn't as hot as he'd want it to be, but it still feels heavenly. He sighs, content, and leans his back against the porcelain. He can hear Brendon's distant humming through the door behind his back. Sounds like Brendon's gone back to washing the living room windows. Good. After Spencer's finished washing himself, he will fit right into the cleanliness Brendon is providing them with.

Once he has relaxed, he lifts his left hand, which he has kept hanging outside the tub. He carefully starts to undo the bandages with his teeth and good hand.

He hisses when the burn wound comes into view. It always looks worse than it feels: the skin on the back of his hand is a mix of red and white, looking plastic and stretched. There are a few spots where flesh is missing, bloody clots decorating the edges.

Spencer breathes in deep, studying the few darker, distorted lines running across the skin. He is not going to get another gang tattoo in his life.

He uses water to rinse the wound, and it doesn't hurt that much. God, he just wants it to heal already so he can move on with his life. Once he's done cleaning his hand, he sits up straight in the tub, fishing out the bar of soap he dropped in. He starts with his back, wanting to get a good scrub.

He is working on his shoulder blades when his eyes freeze on the window. No one is outside, being creepy and staring at him – no, not at all. Someone is inside, being creepy and staring at him.

The doorway is reflected on the window and Jon is standing in the partially open doorway, which, for the record, Spencer totally closed properly.

Spencer's first instinct is to turn around, ask Jon what he wants, but then he realizes that Jon is just standing there and Jon is watching him and Jon definitely is not saying anything. Jon hasn't realized that Spencer has spotted him – how could he, Jon is behind his back – and who knows just how long Jon has been standing there.

Watching him bathe.

Because Spencer is acutely aware that Jon has the reputation of a mass murderer, he keeps scrubbing his back. He feels horribly conscious, wondering which tattoos the soap is flying over, and wait, why is Jon watching?

Jon must be into men. Why else would anyone watch another guy lie naked in a tub of water? Jon is watching him.

Fuck.

Jon makes him coffee and wants to see him naked.

Fuck.

Why hasn't Jon just said so? Even though a week ago Spencer would have probably freaked the fuck out, but he hadn't seen Jon shirtless back then, hadn't realized that Jon is a potential walking and talking sex machine and that Jon is actually a rather nice guy when you get to know him. And okay, Spencer has been playing around with the idea of the two of them screwing because he is sexually frustrated, maybe has a tiny crush or whatever, but he wasn't serious. He didn't realize that–

This changes everything.

His neck and cheeks feel hot as he just keeps scrubbing, telling himself not to notice, and pretend everything's fine, nothing different...

He hears Brendon's voice from the living room, launching into a hymn – the kid doesn't know any other songs – and when he looks up, Jon is no longer reflected on the window. He dares a glance over his shoulder.

The door is still ajar, but Jon is gone, probably driven away by Brendon's approaching voice.

Spencer exhales shakily and leans against the porcelain, closing his eyes and trying to relax.

He was right. He wasn't paranoid. Jon wants him, and he doesn't really object to that.

Shit.

What the hell does he do with that?