Fic - Imagine Me and You
Imagine Me and You
Jon/Spencer
R
1,218 words
Notes: Very slowly working my way through Five Things and this one got away from me.

For sweetrecovery who asked for: "Five times Spencer almost told Jon that he loved him, and the one time he did."

So apparently, all of my Jon/Spencer stories are just destined to be named after lyrics from Happy Together . Because I am just that sappy.



1.
Late August humidity was brutal in Alabama and the heat was close to suffocating. An outdoor festival and hours of waiting around for their set meant Spencer was dripping with sweat, hair in his eyes, t-shirt sticking to him front and back.

Spencer disappeared to refill his water bottle and when he came back Jon had two brightly colored popsicles, procured from the stand at the edge of the field.

"You can have either Dora or Spongebob," Jon said, holding them out. "You pick. But don’t pick Spongebob.” Jon grinned. “Everyone knows Spongebob tastes the best.”

Spencer made a face and reached out for Dora, tore open the wrapper and took a bite of her head. "Oh god, thank you," Spencer mumbled, mouth full of cold, sweet ice.

“I think you might be my hero,” Spencer said after a minute, the sugar heavy on his tongue.

Jon shrugged. “It’s what I do best,” he said, mouthful of Spongebob.

"Come here," Spencer mumbled, tucking the fingers of his free hand around Jon's neck, damp with sweat. "I lo-." He stopped, licked the sticky sweetness from the corner of his mouth and pressed his nose to Jon's cheek. "Thank you," he said instead.




2.
The bunks were a tight fit for one, but two meant figuring out logistics, how to make the most of narrow, cramped space with two people who refused to sleep in separate places.

Spencer woke up more often than not with his leg thrown over Jon's, scissored together, their limbs a twisted mess, his cheek smushed up against Jon's, sharing breath and a pillow and too much body heat.

Spencer woke up as the bus pulled off the freeway, rumbling to a stop in an overly lit gas station somewhere along I 10. It wasn't quite morning, the sky just barely breaking from black to dawn. Spencer shifted, tried to get to his side without waking Jon which was difficult with Jon's hand fisted in his t-shirt.

"Shit, sorry," Spencer mumbled, pressing his fingers to Jon's forehead when Jon's eyes opened, sleepy soft and unfocused.

"Mmm," he mumbled and shifted impossibly closer, so they were facing each other, hips lined up. Jon tucked his nose in against Spencer's cheek so his lips were pressed against the corner of Spencer's mouth, his breath hot.

"Spencer," Jon said, clearly not really awake, smiling. He closed his eyes, huffed a little sigh and Spencer thought, just say it. And then the moment was gone and Spencer lay awake listening to Jon breathe.




3.
Sex was the worst time to blurt out declarations of undying love and adoration so Spencer bit his lip and focused on the bright flare of pleasure shooting up his spine as Jon shoved his hips forward, knocking the breath out of Spencer and forcing him off his elbows, face first into the mattress, his hips tilted back and up.

Jon's fingers pressed tiny barely-there bruises into Spencer's skin, pushing him down. Spencer untangled his legs and shivered all over when Jon unfolded himself to press full-body, belly to back against Spencer, shoving in again.

Spencer huffed out a jumble of sounds that were mostly Jon and Oh God and fuck, please, Jon over and over.

Jon pressed his open mouth to the back of Spencer's neck, just below his hairline, dug his teeth in and shifted his hips harder and Spencer came, teeth clenched in the pillowcase.

Jon pulled out, tossed the condom over the side of the bed and Spencer said, “fuck, yeah, come here,” rolling to his back, resting his head against the pillows.

Jon straddled Spencer’s chest, racing his weight with his hand flat against the head board. Spencer opened his mouth, sucked Jon in and listened to the sounds Jon made, fingers of his free hand in Spencer’s hair.




4.
"I just really think you're overreacting," Jon said, exhausted. His eyes were red around the edges like he hadn't slept in days and he shoved a hand through his hair, shoulders slumped.

"I just really don't give a shit," Spencer spit out. He crossed his arms to keep from reaching out and throwing the nearest available object and bounced up onto the balls of his feet, feeling a little panicky, a little irrational.

Jon was in a chair, elbows balanced on his knees, head in his hands. He looked up, then, and Spencer closed his eyes for a brief second against the look on Jon's face.

"She's my ex-girlfriend," he said carefully, slowly. "Yeah, Spence, I love her. I can't say that I don't. But I'm not in love. Not anymore."

Later, with Jon spread out beneath him, cheeks flushed with pleasure, Spencer pressed the shape of the words into Jon's skin, soundless movement of lips and teeth and listened to the stutter of Jon's breath against his cheek.




5.
"You need to be more careful," Spencer says, pushing Jon's hair off his forehead to get a better look at the bump swelling just above his eye. "Heads are not meant for bottles." He kept it light, teasing, not so much for Jon but for himself, because he felt he might go back out into the crowd and start throwing bottles of his own if he had to think about it too much.

Jon was three beers into forgetting the whole thing and he tipped his head against Spencer's shoulder, his breath heavy. "You worry about me," Jon said, sounding pleased.

"Don't be stupid," Spencer said with a grin, "why would I do that."

Jon rubbed his thumb against Spencer's lower lip, pulling a little. "Because you love me," Jon said, eyes glassy, grin cheesy.

Spencer didn't say anything. He pressed the ice pack to Jon's forehead and focused on remembering to breathe.




6.
"Oh god I love you," Spencer said between bursts of laughter, folding in on himself. He froze, went completely and utterly still, watched Jon's face change, his grin dissolving.

Spencer wanted to take it back, to grab the words and shove them out of the way but there they were, hanging caught between them.

"Um." Jon was moving back, letting Spencer shift up so he was sitting, the carpet scratchy beneath his bare legs. Spencer waited for Jon to say something but this was Spencer's turn; he knew how Jon felt, the words mumbled into his ear late at night when Spencer was caught between sleep and consciousness, the low rumble of Jon's voice pushing Spencer closer.

This was all Spencer and he wanted to take them back, wrap them up and present them in something that wasn't just a throw away, something that was real.

Spencer reached out, caught Jon by the wrist and pulled until they were inches away, Spencer's legs splayed out and Jon sprawled between them, on his knees.

Spencer grinned a shaky grin, an attempt at reassurance. "I do, you know," he said, moving so he could brush his lips over Jon's. "I love you," he breathed and Jon huffed out a sound that tasted a lot like relief and let Spencer kiss him into believing.