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bandomstuffsitTitle: Take Me Back to You
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
witheveryspark
Pairing(s): Jon/Spencer
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Word count: 16,200
Summary: Eight years after Panic split up, Jon and Spencer take a roadtrip and reconnect with each other and the band.
Jon hears from Spencer on a Tuesday, in an email with the subject line “what’s up,” like they’re people who haven’t gone six years without speaking. He doesn’t click on the message, just stares at his inbox like something is wrong with his computer and it somehow time-traveled back to 2008.
The last time Jon heard from Spencer, he got a card in the mail – how Spencer got his address, he doesn’t know, maybe through Ryan, but Ryan wasn’t talking to Spencer much then, either – congratulating him on his wedding.
Jon and Cassie –
Congratulations! So happy for you guys and wishing you the best of luck.
Spencer
The marriage didn’t last, but Jon still has the card. He’s like his mom that way, saving cards and notes in a box, never taking them out to look at them but taking comfort in the fact that the memories are there. That if he would go through everything, he’d find snippets of his past: the card from Spencer, the photo of him and Tom as teenagers tucked inside a birthday card, the first Valentine’s Day card Cassie ever gave him, the note his mom put inside a care package the first time he was ever on tour.
He bites his lip and clicks on the email, his heart pounding, waiting to get to the important part, his eyes skimming over I’m sorry and it’s been a long time to I’m going to be in Chicago next week.
Okay. Okay, then. He gets up and walks to the kitchen, Dylan rubbing against his ankles as Jon stands there and drinks some water. Just – what the fuck? Panic is in the past; he wants it to be the past, said as much when Ryan called him last year to say he was rejoining the band and to ask if Jon would want to, too.
There were good times, but at the end they imploded, creatively stifled and fighting every other minute, and he doesn’t want that. He’s built something post-Panic, and granted it hasn’t been the most successful venture in the world, but he gets to make music by himself, on his own time and own terms. He misses some things about creating in a room with other people, though: the laughter, the feedback on things he’s working on, bouncing ideas off each other. If he’d said yes to rejoining the band, it would have been for that.
He goes back to the computer and replies to Spencer’s email: Sure, it would be great to see you. When do you want to meet?
*
Spencer sends something back right away. He wants to know if Sunday is okay. That’s a lot sooner than Jon was expecting, but at the same time, it’s less time he has to spend wondering what’s going to happen.
Sunday is fine, Jon types, but then he deletes it and stares at his laptop. His fingers hover over the keys. He’s overthinking this, right? It shouldn’t be this hard to write a simple email.
Before he can think about it, he picks up the phone and dials the first number he thinks of.
“I just heard from Spencer,” Jon says.
“Hm?” Ryan coughs into the phone, and Jon has to hold it away from his ear.
“Did I wake you up?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry. But – do you know anything about this? Did Spencer say he wanted to see me? Why is he coming to Chicago?”
“Dude, I don’t know.” Ryan is generally useless in the mornings. Jon looks at the clock. It’s close to ten in Chicago, and Ryan is two hours behind. He doesn’t get out of bed before noon unless someone forces him to. “Maybe he’s coming to declare his one true love.”
Jon rolls his eyes and sets down the phone, putting it on speaker so he can check his other messages while he talks.
“Thank you for the early-morning humor, Ryan.”
“I could be serious,” Ryan says, and he makes his voice sound deep and cryptic. Or maybe Jon is imagining that.
“I haven’t talked to him in something like six years.” (Not something like six years. Six years, two months, and fifteen days. Jon doesn’t have it written on a calendar or anything – he’s not that crazy – but he remembers the last time they spoke, right down to the exact day.)
“I think he’s trying to reconnect with people, you know, like, put the past in the past,” Ryan says. “It kind of started last year for all of us, with the reunion stuff.”
“It’s just weird, that’s all,” Jon says. “Completely random.”
“Nothing is random, Jon,” Ryan says, and he hangs up. Jon stares at his iPhone, confused by Ryan’s stoner wisdom and wondering exactly how right it may be.
*
The bar is a dive on the Near North Side, and it’s charming in its own tiny, dark, and cramped way. Jon gets there first – he was the one who suggested it – and settles in at the bar with a bottle of Blue Moon. He goes there sometimes, often enough to become friendly with the bartenders and to know the old dudes who hang out there all day sitting next to hipsters and office workers.
He’s tapping his fingers against the sticky wood of the bar when he feels a rush of cold air next to him, and a familiar voice saying, “Hey.”
Jon shivers at the cold and turns around on his barstool, knees almost knocking into Spencer’s thighs. “Hi,” he says, smiling. “You made it.”
Spencer grins, and it goes all the way up to his eyes. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”
It’s the stupidest thing, but Jon’s heart starts to beat faster as he takes in the view. Spencer seems taller and leaner, a little bit older, but he hasn’t aged much in six years. Without the beard, he’d probably look even younger.
Jon just looks at him for a second, and says, “Yeah, I know, it’s been forever,” debating with himself if he should go in for a hug or just continue to sit here and stare as Spencer unbuttons his black peacoat.
Spencer puts an awkward hand on Jon’s shoulder and then lets go as he climbs onto the stool next to Jon’s. “Have you been here long?”
“No. Maybe ten minutes?”
“Sorry. I took the wrong train here,” Spencer says, looking down, shaking his head and laughing. “I have an app on my phone, but I still ended up taking the wrong train.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jon says. “One time I just rode around the Loop for an hour because I forgot to transfer trains, and I’m from here.”
Spencer just smiles at that as he flags down the bartender to order a beer. “So…” he starts, looking back at Jon.
“Um.”
They both start laughing, and that feels better than anything. It reminds Jon of late nights on a tour bus, making up stupid songs and playing video games, watching movies and getting high.
“Hey, since I forgot to ask in the email,” Jon says, and he picks up his beer bottle, “what brings you here?”
“It’s a long story.” Spencer gets his beer, and he hands over some cash to the bartender. He lifts his hips to slide his wallet back into his jeans, and Jon’s brain is chanting, don’t look, don’t look. “I mean, I left the hotel, and I got lost …”
Jon smiles, and he fondly rolls his eyes. “No, I mean to Chicago, not how you got to the bar.”
Spencer smiles back. “I had this random idea in the middle of the night. I just turned thirty a couple months ago, and I thought, you know, I always wanted to take a roadtrip when I was in my twenties but I never did. So, here I am.”
“Did you just leave in the middle of the night?”
“The next morning.”
“Wow. Where are you on your way to?”
“Um, I was going to drive from L.A. to New York, but I got really sick of driving in the middle of Ohio and decided to come back.”
“Aw, Spencer, now you can never say you drove all the way from coast to coast.”
“Ohio made me want to blow my brains out.”
Jon laughs. “You couldn’t take it anymore?”
“No! It’s all … it’s flat, and there’s no weird roadside attractions or landmarks, just a bunch of Burger King’s. And it takes four hours to drive through the fucking state. I probably could have done it if I’d had someone to talk to and wasn’t sick of every damn song on my iPhone, but, oh, well.” He shrugs and takes a drink.
“How long did it take you to get there?”
Spencer squints at something in the distance as he tries to think. “Four days.”
“And now you’re on your way back to California.”
“Yeah, and trying to avoid it. I’m pretty sick of driving at this point.”
“I think it’s kind of awesome you just decided to go for it,” Jon says. “Even if you didn’t make it to New York.”
“I probably would have been so tired by that point I’d be running on caffeine and two hours of sleep. I’d be like …” and Spencer pretends that he has one hand on a steering wheel and he’s nodding off.
“I kind of always wanted to do a roadtrip. And I know being on a tour bus is sort of like that, but not.”
“Totally not the same thing,” Spencer says, shaking his head. “Because you’re not driving yourself. And you have constant access to a bed and a bathroom, even if both are terrible. The tour bus isn’t the same.”
“All those hours traveling around the country by bus, and it didn’t even count.” Jon makes a pretend sad face.
“Since it didn’t count, do you want to come with me?” Spencer says, and he just blurts it out, puts it right out there, and doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t try to backtrack, doesn’t try to pretend he didn’t ask. He does look surprised by his own question, though, like he accidentally said out loud something he was only thinking.
“Wait – do you mean now? Like, tomorrow morning?”
Spencer laughs, and his cheeks flush. He slides a finger through a little bit of spilled beer on the bar, and then he looks up at Jon.
“Uh, yeah,” he says.
Somehow, there’s no one else in the room at that moment but Spencer, looking at Jon, but not like he’s waiting for an answer. Letting him take his time, giving him the space to think about it.
It’s tempting, considering that he could spend more than just tonight with Spencer. Six years apart so, what, they can spend three hours together and then not talk again for another six years? And so Jon could wonder what would happen if he’d said yes, he’d just been spontaneous, gotten in the car, and left on an adventure with someone he’d missed having adventures with. Someone who was bringing back a lot of feelings he thought he’d forgotten and left behind a long time ago.
The only things keeping him in Chicago are his pets, and he loves them – they’re old now, but they’ve been with him for years – and he knows if he wants to go on a trip, his parents will take care of them. Which makes him feel guilty, but his parents love his animals as much as he does.
“Yeah, I want to,” Jon says. “I’ll go with you.”
Spencer raises his eyebrows. “You do?”
“Yeah, I mean. I’ve always wanted to do it. I always imagined taking a summer roadtrip, but, hey, Chicago is kind of miserable this time of year, so why not?”
“I never thought I’d hear you say ‘Chicago’ and ‘miserable’ in the same sentence.”
Jon grins. “I love it here, but come on, it’s cold and at this time of year, it starts getting dark at four in the afternoon.”
“That does suck. Why do you live here again?” Spencer returns Jon’s grin. “It can’t be because of the weather.”
“Ah, that’s a cheap shot. I’ll let you know we have some nice days around here.”
“I remember.”
“Yeah, you stayed me with that one time, after … I can’t even remember what tour it was.”
Spencer gives him a sidelong glance. “Honda Civic Tour.”
Or, what Jon used to think of in his head as the beginning of the end, but at the same time, the moment when they were the most together on stage, having the most fun. Actually, every time he smells pot (which isn’t that often anymore), it reminds him of that tour. Because they were pretty much stoned the entire time.
“I can’t believe that was“ -- Jon counts backward in his head – “almost ten years now. Holy shit.”
“You know, when we asked you to come back …”
Jon swallows. Here it comes. The thing he didn’t want to talk about.
“… we meant it,” Spencer continues. “And the offer is still out there.”
“I don’t – can we not –“ Jon fumbles for words. It’s nice that the offer still stands, but really, it would be easier if it didn’t.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” Spencer pauses long to signal the bartender and order another beer. “I just wanted you to know,” he adds, and then he turns his attention to getting a drink.
Ryan called Jon right after his divorce went through, about a year and a half ago. He guesses Ryan got stuck with the job because he was the only one Jon still talked to. Somehow, their relationship made it easier to say no, that he was going through a rough time, that he was on tour with Empires, and he was happier doing his own thing. Ryan already knew all those things. He probably even knew Jon would say no, but he still called to ask.
Then he went online after Panic announced their reunion tour, and that was a stupid idea. He saw a lot of fans who were sad that he wasn’t back, but there were a few who wrote that they were glad Jon didn’t decide to return because he was never an original member of the band to begin with. That stung. He’d clicked off his browser that night never wanting to read anything about himself online ever again.
“Anyway, how’s the band going?” Jon asks. “I heard the new single.”
“Good,” Spencer says, and he seems to relax, his shoulders straightening out. “We just got off the first leg of the tour for the album.”
A couple of weeks ago, Jon heard Panic’s most recent single in the car on WXRT, as he pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. He had to sit in his car until it was over, hit hard by the idea that it was something he could have been a part of, but also because it was a damn good song.
And then he went home and downloaded the album, hearing it for the first time even though it had been out for a few months. It was all there, just like he’d remembered: Brendon’s voice and Ryan’s guitar and Spencer’s drums. He had no idea who played bass on the record; probably Brendon, if he had to guess. The funny thing was, after that initial, “Shit, I could have been on this record” moment, he was happy for them and able to just sit back and enjoy the music without thinking, I used to be a part of this.
“I liked it,” Jon says. “You got some good reviews.”
Spencer snorts. “Pitchfork said it was ‘like a group of overzealous high schoolers at their first talent show, borrowing the weird pop aesthetic of Grizzly Bear and the surf-rock harmonies of Best Coast.’”
“You memorized it?”
“I read it many times, to several different people.”
“But they said your drumming was one of the bright spots.”
“Go me.” Spencer gives him a weak smile. Then he sighs. “Ryan tends to pay a lot of attention to that stuff, though.”
“He still acts weird when he reads reviews?”
Spencer nods, but he doesn’t say anything, and Jon gets the feeling this isn’t a good topic. They’re quiet, but the roar of the bar is around them, drowning out whatever awkward silence exists between them. When Spencer speaks again, it startles Jon.
“Were you serious? I mean, about wanting to come with me on the roadtrip?”
Jon thinks for a moment, if he wanted to, he could back out of that right now. Instead he says, “Yes.”
“You actually want to get in a car with me for several days and drive to California.” Spencer leans in, staring at him. “Are you sure you don’t have a fever or something? Or, are you sure you’re not high?”
Jon laughs. “No, I’m fine.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow morning around nine and driving to Des Moines.”
“I figure I can bring my camera and guitar and maybe get inspired to do something.” He finishes off his beer. "I think I need the change of scenery."
“You can be my partner in crazy ideas,” Spencer says. “Although this is probably the best thing I’ve done in a while.”
“Yeah?”
“Even though Ohio sucked. Yeah, I think doing something spur-of-the-moment was kind of necessary.”
Spencer pulls out his phone to check the time. “I probably should head back to my hotel if I’m waking up early tomorrow.”
“Me, too. Do you want me to meet you, or …?”
“I’ll pick you up, but if you change your mind, let me know.”
This is the most spontaneous thing Jon has done in years (driving crosscountry with his former bandmate he hasn't seen in years? Seriously?), but being with Spencer even for a short time tonight just felt right. It made him miss everything that worked about Panic, and even some of the things that didn’t. It's coincidental that most of things that worked were because of Spencer, that even though it's a big cliché, he really was the glue that held them all together, the one who could keep a cool head when everyone else started to bicker.
They walk outside, and Jon forgot how cold Chicago is at night in November. He buttons up his coat and turns toward Spencer, who’s looking up at the buildings a block away, humming a familiar tune that Jon can’t immediately place. He must notice Jon’s curious look, because Spencer points at the buildings in front of them and says, “They were on the cover of a Wilco album.”
“Right,” Jon says. He lives here; sometimes he forgets stuff like that. And the album is at least fifteen years old now. He shivers a little bit and sticks his hands in his coat pockets. “So, tomorrow morning.”
Spencer pulls out his phone and hands it over to Jon. “You should probably put your address in there since I have no idea where you live. You’re not still out in the suburbs, are you?”
Jon shakes his head. “Not since Cassie and I split up.”
“Yeah, Ryan told me about that.” Spencer gives him a sympathetic look, but it’s not a pitying one, which is a relief. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s been a year and a half,” Jon says, and he waves his free hand. He doesn’t look up from the screen of Spencer’s iPhone. “And it wasn’t like we were fighting, or anything really happened, we just – “ He looks up, and Spencer is still giving him that same look, like he understands that it was sad but necessary. “You get to a certain point, where you’ve been with someone most of your life, but you end up growing apart anyway. It was kind of like that, which makes it sound simple. But it kind of was that simple.”
He finishes putting his address in Spencer’s phone and hands it back, pressing it into his palm. “So, I moved into the city.”
Spencer nods, and he slips his phone back into his pocket. “Do you like it?”
Jon nods. He has a little house in Andersonville, enough room for Marley to go outside when he feels like it, and the place has a nice, neighborhood feel. It was something he was missing out in the suburbs, where he had no neighbors and no sidewalks, no coffeeshop on the corner to hang out in.
“We should probably get some sleep,” Jon says, “since we’re leaving tomorrow.”
And what the hell is his life that he’ll be on his way to California tomorrow with Spencer. Talk about things he never could have seen coming.
“Yeah. I think I’m going to get a cab back to my hotel.”
“Smart move.” Jon smiles. “Wouldn’t want you to do what I did and ride around in a circle for an hour on the L.”
“How is that even possible?”
“I’m easily confused by public transportation, what can I say? Besides, you’re the one who got lost coming here.” Jon gently pokes Spencer in the chest, easing back into their old familiarity like it’s nothing.
“Which is why I’m taking a cab back.” And Spencer pokes him back, laughing.
“I guess I’ll see you in the morning, then. Call me if you get lost.”
“The rental car has built in GPS.”
“GPS has failed me before. One time, it told me to drive into Lake Michigan. It was like,” and Jon affects a robotic voice, “’turn right into Lake Michigan.’ And it pronounced ‘Michigan’ really weird, too, with the stress on the wrong syllable.”
“I won’t drive into the lake, Jon. I promise.”
“Shit, I have to go pack,” Jon says, lightly smacking his palm against his forehead. “You need – you need things if you’re going on a trip.”
“It would be helpful to have things like clean clothes and a toothbrush,” Spencer says.
“One time when we were on tour I wore the same jeans for the entire tour and didn’t wash them.”
“I remember, and it was gross.”
Jon grins. “I’ll let you know my laundry habits have improved.”
“I’m thrilled that you’ve discovered detergent,” Spencer deadpans.
They smile stupidly at each other for a moment, and then Jon says, “Well, I should go catch my train.”
A cab drives by with its light on, and Spencer hurries over to the curb to hail it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jon gives him a little wave, and he watches as the cab pulls away from the curb, his head reeling that this isn’t goodbye, that this is the beginning of something else entirely.
*
Spencer picks up Jon a few minutes after nine the next morning. Jon is sitting on his front stoop with the duffel bag he’s packed for the trip, and he’s been out there for at least fifteen minutes freezing his ass off.
Jon tosses his duffel in the trunk when Spencer opens it, then he climbs into the car.
“Morning,” Spencer says. He’s wearing sunglasses and looking better than he has any right to this early in the morning. Not that it’s really early, but usually Jon isn’t doing much more than lazing around his house at this time of day.
“I got you coffee,” Spencer says, nodding down at the cups in the holder as Jon buckles up.
“Both of them for me?” Jon picks up one cup and smiles over at him.
“I need the caffeine more than you do.”
“Yeah, why’s that?”
“I’m driving.”
“We can split up the driving,” Jon says. “Maybe switch every couple of hours or so.”
Spencer nods, and he pulls away from the curb. “Can you hand me my coffee?”
“Ah, now I see the real reason you asked me along: professional coffee handler.” Jon picks up the coffee and puts it in Spencer’s hand.
“That’s not true!” Spencer laughs.
“Coffee handler and person who switches the song when something you don’t like comes up on shuffle. That’s me.”
“You’re more than that,” Spencer says, and something funny happens in Jon’s chest. He doesn’t ignore it, just lets the feeling settle there. “But you really should pick a song. We need road trip music.”
Spencer’s iPhone is docked in the car, hooked up to the speakers. Jon scrolls through some playlists until he finds one called “Roadtrip Jams 2017.”
“You have a playlist called ‘Roadtrip Jams 2017’?” Jon raises an eyebrow.
“Yes, and if you make fun of it –“
“I’m not making fun of it. That’s an amazing name for a playlist.” Jon hits play, and he leans back in the seat as “Chicago” by Sufjan Stevens starts.
“These songs were the only thing that got me through the first half of this trip,” Spencer says. He brakes at a red light and takes a long drink from his extra-large coffee cup. He fiddles with the volume control, turning it down, then back up to where it was. “I turned around in Ohio because I was sick of driving through it, but also so I could come to Chicago. I knew I had to drive through here on my way home.” He hesitates, and Jon can’t remember seeing him this way before, unsure of his words. “I wanted to see you.”
Jon holds his own coffee in his hands, lets the heat warm them up. And maybe it’s a stupid question to ask, but he asks it anyway: “Why?” Because, really why? It had been so long, what would another six years be? What would forever be?
“Yeah. I just – it’d been so long, and I can’t think of here without thinking about you,” Spencer says, and his foot presses against the gas when the light turns green. Sufjan gets through another verse before Spencer speaks again. “I don’t even know why we went so long without talking.”
“I don’t know, either.”
“Well, we weren’t in the same place; I was back and forth between Vegas and L.A., and you were here.”
“We were never in the same place, Spencer,” Jon says, “except when we were on tour, or recording.”
“I know, but I was going to say, it didn’t matter. We could have emailed, texted, Twittered, whatever.”
“But there was a while after the band split that we weren’t talking at all.”
“There was some animosity, yeah.”
“That’s kind of putting it mildly.”
Jon can remember the arguments, the way they split up like they were on two different teams, picking sides and choosing directions. He chose one way, and Spencer chose the other, and they’d both probably be very different people if they hadn’t made those decisions.
“Things are better now, though,” Spencer says, and he sticks his coffee cup back in the cup holder. Jon watches him, careful to make sure he can catch it just in case Spencer would miss. “With everything, and musically, too.”
Jon wants to ask if it’s because he’s not there, but it’s petty, stupid, and self-centered to assume that. It’s just that some days, like when he hears what the band is doing now, how it matches up a little bit better to the kind of music he wanted to play, he doubts not saying yes to coming back. He thinks about the what-if sometimes, and what it might be like to be on a stage again with Ryan, Brendon, and Spencer, if it would feel like it used to.
“Anyway, I’m going to shut up now,” Spencer says, and he merges onto the interstate. It’s a few more minutes before he adds, a glint in his eye, “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind? Last chance.”
“I don’t. Spencer, seriously, I want to be here. It was unexpected, but I kind of think it’s what I needed right now.”
“It’s what I needed, too.”
“Good.”
“Just to get out of L.A. and do something different. I keep thinking I should fuck off to, I don’t know, Hawaii or maybe even the middle of nowhere and I’d be happier.”
“Why’s that?” Jon flips open the tab on his coffee cup to drink some; it’s going to start getting cold if he just keeps holding it.
“There’s just something about it. I’ve been there for a while, mostly for the band, but I need a change and that’s probably why I just decided to leave without telling anyone.”
“Wait, you didn’t tell anyone you were leaving?”
“Well, they figured it out. Ryan and Brendon, and I told my mom when she called me.”
Jon has felt like a change of scenery from time to time, but never so much that he’d want to just up and leave for the middle of nowhere. He might have just randomly left town on a roadtrip now, but he knows he’s coming back. He knows there’s no other place he’d want to be in the long run besides Chicago.
“Would you really just move? Are things that bad?”
“Things aren’t bad; it’s just more that I’m getting restless.” Spencer shrugs. “Not just with where I’m living, but it’s like I’ve done nothing but the band since – well, forever, really. Half of my life has been wrapped up in it.”
“And it’s driving you a little crazy.”
“Kind of. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I’ve done it for so long that I haven’t done anything else. And I have my shit together; I have a house, and I have the band, and it should be great, but it’s like something is missing.”
“I’ve felt that way before, too.”
“Yeah?” Some of the tension seems to ease out of Spencer’s body as he relaxes against the seat.
“Still do, sometimes.”
“I think I needed to do this on my own just because I haven’t done anything on my own in so long.”
“And then I came along and messed up your plan?” Jon laughs.
“No, you didn’t. It was starting to get lonely. I drove four days all by myself, and it wasn’t easy. I started talking to myself at one point just to keep myself awake.”
“That’s not good.”
“I had to pull over and slept in the car for a couple of hours at a rest stop.”
“If you need me to drive, just let me know.”
Spencer turns up the volume on the stereo. “I’m fine now.”
“You better drink this,” Jon says, and he pushes the coffee cup into Spencer’s hand.
To his credit, Spencer laughs and accepts the cup. “Yes, Jon, just fill me with tons of coffee so I never fall asleep.”
“You’ve uncovered my secret plan.” Jon reaches for the iPhone and starts to shuffle through songs. “You have Robyn on here.”
“Because she’s awesome.“
Jon pushes play on “Dancing on My Own.” He starts to move his shoulders to the beat and pretends to play the drums, which makes Spencer snort with amusement.
“If you dance like that the entire trip, you have to promise to let me film it at least once.”
“If you’re going to share it with the internet, no.”
“Then what’s the point? You have to let the entire world see.”
“My amazing dance moves are for your eyes only.”
“I think we should go to a dance club,” Spencer announces, and then he turns to Jon with a devious grin.
“Because you’re going to find a dance club in the middle of a cornfield in fucking Iowa or Nebraska or wherever.”
“There’s probably one in Omaha. We’ll be there tomorrow.”
“You’re going to have to get me really drunk. I’m an expensive date.”
“Oh, so I have to wine and dine you to get you out on a dance floor?”
“I am not cheap, Spencer. Only the finest liquors for me.”
“You’ll drink the shittiest beer they have, and you’ll like it.”
“The sad thing is that’s kind of true. But, hey, are you going to be joining me on the floor at this club?”
“After a few scotches, yes.”
“Good, we can look like idiots together.”
“Do you remember that one time on tour, we were in – I want to say it was somewhere in Florida – and we went to this club, which was stupid because we all hated it except for Brendon, because he made us go, and the owner came over and offered Brendon a position as a go-go dancer, right there on the spot.”
Jon had forgotten that story, but he starts laughing now. “The best part is Brendon was a terrible dancer. And he said no, but you could tell he was flattered.”
“Don’t worry, he still has no idea what he’s doing; he just shakes his ass and calls it dancing.”
Jon misses them so much, the ridiculous moments and stories that made him love his time with the band. It feels like everything was so specific to a certain time and place, though, that it could never happen again.
*
They arrive in Des Moines late in the afternoon, and it’s not like they’ve been in the car that long, but Jon keeps nodding off. His head moves down only to snap back up again every few minutes. The last time he does this, he notices signs for Des Moines and tries to force himself to stay awake.
“Do we have a hotel for tonight?” he asks, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window.
“We have no hotels for this entire trip,” Spencer says, and he sounds almost excited by the idea, like this is more of an adventure that way.
At Jon’s slightly horrified look, Spencer adds, “No, we’re not staying in the car. We’ll find a place to stay.”
“You should really think about booking in advance on your phone,” Jon says. “I’ll pay half of whatever the total is.”
“Maybe for tomorrow.” He yawns, hiding his mouth behind his hand. “It did not look like this was that far from Chicago on the map.”
“Google says five and a half hours, but it ends up being more like seven with stopping and traffic.”
“And seven hours doesn’t really sound all that bad, but it feels bad.”
Jon stretches out his legs and arms. “Exactly.”
Spencer pulls up to the first decent-looking hotel they find and parks the car as the GPS protests, “Recalculating.” He mutters “shut up” at it under his breath.
Jon stabs his finger into the on/off button to turn off the GPS, which they’ve decided to call Gertrude. (Halfway here, Jon said, “It needs a name,” and Spencer responded, “Gertrude.” It fits.) He leans his head back against the seat cushion and looks at Spencer. “I think I’m ready to fall asleep.”
“Me, too.”
“We should go check in.”
Spencer groans and extricates himself from the driver’s seat, and Jon gets out of the passenger’s side, stretching and blinking, his eyes adjusting to the light outside and not being in the car anymore.
They check in, and the woman at the counter says the only rooms available have one bed, and would that be okay? Jon’s stomach starts to do flip-flops, and no, he is not going to freak out about this. Absolutely not. King-size beds are huge, right? There should be more than enough room for each of them to have a side and stay on it.
“Are you okay with this?” Jon says when they walk inside the room.
“We used to share spaces a lot smaller than this,” Spencer replies.
True, and when it happened, they woke up entirely too close to each other. It was years ago – god, over ten years ago – when Jon was new to the band and trying to convince himself that he wasn’t attracted to Spencer, that he couldn’t be because he had a girlfriend whom he loved a lot and was happy with. He couldn’t understand the idea of being attracted to Spencer but not loving or wanting Cassie any less. It felt wrong somehow, not because Spencer was a dude, but because it felt wrong to want anyone but his girlfriend. Sharing a bed made him want Spencer, to kiss him, to touch him and be touched by him.
So after a couple of hotel nights on that first tour with Panic, he and Spencer didn’t share a bed too often, or they had rooms with two separate beds. As time went on, they would still flirt and touch without realizing it; Jon only recognized what they were doing as flirting when Ryan said something. (It went like, “Hey, you know, some people were making comments on a YouTube video of you and Spencer being interviewed saying that it looks like you’re fucking,” and Jon’s face turning bright red.)
“What side do you want?” Jon asks, eyeing the bed.
“Doesn’t matter.” Spencer shrugs and sets down his suitcase, starting to remove toiletries and carrying them into the bathroom.
Jon flops down on the right side of the bed and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how long it is, but it can’t be too much later when he senses a warm weight resting nearby. He opens an eye and sees Spencer curled up on his side facing Jon, his eyes closed and his arms pressed against his chest. He’s about three feet away, and it takes all of Jon’s self-control not to close that distance. These feelings had been dormant for years, and now, being around Spencer again, feeling how fucking right it is when they’re together, they’re all coming back.
He’s never so much as kissed another guy. He’s never had sex with anyone but Cassie; he met her when he was sixteen, and she was his first everything. He hasn’t dated at all since he got divorced, so, actually, considering how long he was with Cassie, he hasn’t dated since he was a teenager.
He’s thirty-two years old, and he feels completely inexperienced and inept. Even if he were to try anything with Spencer, how the hell would he go about doing it? Spencer might not even be receptive to it. Of course that’s a risk with asking anyone out, but with Spencer it causes him to be even more fraught with anxiety.
Being attracted to a guy isn’t freaking him out -- he’s found guys attractive for as long as he can remember, but he was always more attracted to women. What’s weird about this is that it’s Spencer, and there’s a history there, memories of feelings he thought were in the past. Feelings he hasn’t thought about in years.
Truthfully, and this might be one of the saddest thoughts he’s ever had, he split up with his wife and he didn’t think he’d ever be with anyone ever again. He wasn’t even too bothered by the idea because the alternative – getting out and trying to meet people – seemed insurmountable. Trying to date again just wasn’t something he wanted to try, not out of laziness, but out of uncertainty and fear. Wanting Spencer makes him fearful in the same way, wondering what Spencer would say or do if he knew.
He’s known Spencer eleven years of his life, and they didn’t even speak for six of them. Thinking back on today, on their conversations in the car and how good it was to see him last night, all that time apart seems like the dumbest thing in the world. He let Spencer disappear from his life for completely petty reasons that last mattered to the two of them when they were in their early twenties.
And now Spencer is here, warm and breathing on Jon’s skin, and his hands want to reach out, for Spencer to understand everything Jon wants to say through his touch.
Part Two
Author:
witheverysparkPairing(s): Jon/Spencer
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Word count: 16,200
Summary: Eight years after Panic split up, Jon and Spencer take a roadtrip and reconnect with each other and the band.
Jon hears from Spencer on a Tuesday, in an email with the subject line “what’s up,” like they’re people who haven’t gone six years without speaking. He doesn’t click on the message, just stares at his inbox like something is wrong with his computer and it somehow time-traveled back to 2008.
The last time Jon heard from Spencer, he got a card in the mail – how Spencer got his address, he doesn’t know, maybe through Ryan, but Ryan wasn’t talking to Spencer much then, either – congratulating him on his wedding.
Jon and Cassie –
Congratulations! So happy for you guys and wishing you the best of luck.
Spencer
The marriage didn’t last, but Jon still has the card. He’s like his mom that way, saving cards and notes in a box, never taking them out to look at them but taking comfort in the fact that the memories are there. That if he would go through everything, he’d find snippets of his past: the card from Spencer, the photo of him and Tom as teenagers tucked inside a birthday card, the first Valentine’s Day card Cassie ever gave him, the note his mom put inside a care package the first time he was ever on tour.
He bites his lip and clicks on the email, his heart pounding, waiting to get to the important part, his eyes skimming over I’m sorry and it’s been a long time to I’m going to be in Chicago next week.
Okay. Okay, then. He gets up and walks to the kitchen, Dylan rubbing against his ankles as Jon stands there and drinks some water. Just – what the fuck? Panic is in the past; he wants it to be the past, said as much when Ryan called him last year to say he was rejoining the band and to ask if Jon would want to, too.
There were good times, but at the end they imploded, creatively stifled and fighting every other minute, and he doesn’t want that. He’s built something post-Panic, and granted it hasn’t been the most successful venture in the world, but he gets to make music by himself, on his own time and own terms. He misses some things about creating in a room with other people, though: the laughter, the feedback on things he’s working on, bouncing ideas off each other. If he’d said yes to rejoining the band, it would have been for that.
He goes back to the computer and replies to Spencer’s email: Sure, it would be great to see you. When do you want to meet?
*
Spencer sends something back right away. He wants to know if Sunday is okay. That’s a lot sooner than Jon was expecting, but at the same time, it’s less time he has to spend wondering what’s going to happen.
Sunday is fine, Jon types, but then he deletes it and stares at his laptop. His fingers hover over the keys. He’s overthinking this, right? It shouldn’t be this hard to write a simple email.
Before he can think about it, he picks up the phone and dials the first number he thinks of.
“I just heard from Spencer,” Jon says.
“Hm?” Ryan coughs into the phone, and Jon has to hold it away from his ear.
“Did I wake you up?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry. But – do you know anything about this? Did Spencer say he wanted to see me? Why is he coming to Chicago?”
“Dude, I don’t know.” Ryan is generally useless in the mornings. Jon looks at the clock. It’s close to ten in Chicago, and Ryan is two hours behind. He doesn’t get out of bed before noon unless someone forces him to. “Maybe he’s coming to declare his one true love.”
Jon rolls his eyes and sets down the phone, putting it on speaker so he can check his other messages while he talks.
“Thank you for the early-morning humor, Ryan.”
“I could be serious,” Ryan says, and he makes his voice sound deep and cryptic. Or maybe Jon is imagining that.
“I haven’t talked to him in something like six years.” (Not something like six years. Six years, two months, and fifteen days. Jon doesn’t have it written on a calendar or anything – he’s not that crazy – but he remembers the last time they spoke, right down to the exact day.)
“I think he’s trying to reconnect with people, you know, like, put the past in the past,” Ryan says. “It kind of started last year for all of us, with the reunion stuff.”
“It’s just weird, that’s all,” Jon says. “Completely random.”
“Nothing is random, Jon,” Ryan says, and he hangs up. Jon stares at his iPhone, confused by Ryan’s stoner wisdom and wondering exactly how right it may be.
*
The bar is a dive on the Near North Side, and it’s charming in its own tiny, dark, and cramped way. Jon gets there first – he was the one who suggested it – and settles in at the bar with a bottle of Blue Moon. He goes there sometimes, often enough to become friendly with the bartenders and to know the old dudes who hang out there all day sitting next to hipsters and office workers.
He’s tapping his fingers against the sticky wood of the bar when he feels a rush of cold air next to him, and a familiar voice saying, “Hey.”
Jon shivers at the cold and turns around on his barstool, knees almost knocking into Spencer’s thighs. “Hi,” he says, smiling. “You made it.”
Spencer grins, and it goes all the way up to his eyes. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”
It’s the stupidest thing, but Jon’s heart starts to beat faster as he takes in the view. Spencer seems taller and leaner, a little bit older, but he hasn’t aged much in six years. Without the beard, he’d probably look even younger.
Jon just looks at him for a second, and says, “Yeah, I know, it’s been forever,” debating with himself if he should go in for a hug or just continue to sit here and stare as Spencer unbuttons his black peacoat.
Spencer puts an awkward hand on Jon’s shoulder and then lets go as he climbs onto the stool next to Jon’s. “Have you been here long?”
“No. Maybe ten minutes?”
“Sorry. I took the wrong train here,” Spencer says, looking down, shaking his head and laughing. “I have an app on my phone, but I still ended up taking the wrong train.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jon says. “One time I just rode around the Loop for an hour because I forgot to transfer trains, and I’m from here.”
Spencer just smiles at that as he flags down the bartender to order a beer. “So…” he starts, looking back at Jon.
“Um.”
They both start laughing, and that feels better than anything. It reminds Jon of late nights on a tour bus, making up stupid songs and playing video games, watching movies and getting high.
“Hey, since I forgot to ask in the email,” Jon says, and he picks up his beer bottle, “what brings you here?”
“It’s a long story.” Spencer gets his beer, and he hands over some cash to the bartender. He lifts his hips to slide his wallet back into his jeans, and Jon’s brain is chanting, don’t look, don’t look. “I mean, I left the hotel, and I got lost …”
Jon smiles, and he fondly rolls his eyes. “No, I mean to Chicago, not how you got to the bar.”
Spencer smiles back. “I had this random idea in the middle of the night. I just turned thirty a couple months ago, and I thought, you know, I always wanted to take a roadtrip when I was in my twenties but I never did. So, here I am.”
“Did you just leave in the middle of the night?”
“The next morning.”
“Wow. Where are you on your way to?”
“Um, I was going to drive from L.A. to New York, but I got really sick of driving in the middle of Ohio and decided to come back.”
“Aw, Spencer, now you can never say you drove all the way from coast to coast.”
“Ohio made me want to blow my brains out.”
Jon laughs. “You couldn’t take it anymore?”
“No! It’s all … it’s flat, and there’s no weird roadside attractions or landmarks, just a bunch of Burger King’s. And it takes four hours to drive through the fucking state. I probably could have done it if I’d had someone to talk to and wasn’t sick of every damn song on my iPhone, but, oh, well.” He shrugs and takes a drink.
“How long did it take you to get there?”
Spencer squints at something in the distance as he tries to think. “Four days.”
“And now you’re on your way back to California.”
“Yeah, and trying to avoid it. I’m pretty sick of driving at this point.”
“I think it’s kind of awesome you just decided to go for it,” Jon says. “Even if you didn’t make it to New York.”
“I probably would have been so tired by that point I’d be running on caffeine and two hours of sleep. I’d be like …” and Spencer pretends that he has one hand on a steering wheel and he’s nodding off.
“I kind of always wanted to do a roadtrip. And I know being on a tour bus is sort of like that, but not.”
“Totally not the same thing,” Spencer says, shaking his head. “Because you’re not driving yourself. And you have constant access to a bed and a bathroom, even if both are terrible. The tour bus isn’t the same.”
“All those hours traveling around the country by bus, and it didn’t even count.” Jon makes a pretend sad face.
“Since it didn’t count, do you want to come with me?” Spencer says, and he just blurts it out, puts it right out there, and doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t try to backtrack, doesn’t try to pretend he didn’t ask. He does look surprised by his own question, though, like he accidentally said out loud something he was only thinking.
“Wait – do you mean now? Like, tomorrow morning?”
Spencer laughs, and his cheeks flush. He slides a finger through a little bit of spilled beer on the bar, and then he looks up at Jon.
“Uh, yeah,” he says.
Somehow, there’s no one else in the room at that moment but Spencer, looking at Jon, but not like he’s waiting for an answer. Letting him take his time, giving him the space to think about it.
It’s tempting, considering that he could spend more than just tonight with Spencer. Six years apart so, what, they can spend three hours together and then not talk again for another six years? And so Jon could wonder what would happen if he’d said yes, he’d just been spontaneous, gotten in the car, and left on an adventure with someone he’d missed having adventures with. Someone who was bringing back a lot of feelings he thought he’d forgotten and left behind a long time ago.
The only things keeping him in Chicago are his pets, and he loves them – they’re old now, but they’ve been with him for years – and he knows if he wants to go on a trip, his parents will take care of them. Which makes him feel guilty, but his parents love his animals as much as he does.
“Yeah, I want to,” Jon says. “I’ll go with you.”
Spencer raises his eyebrows. “You do?”
“Yeah, I mean. I’ve always wanted to do it. I always imagined taking a summer roadtrip, but, hey, Chicago is kind of miserable this time of year, so why not?”
“I never thought I’d hear you say ‘Chicago’ and ‘miserable’ in the same sentence.”
Jon grins. “I love it here, but come on, it’s cold and at this time of year, it starts getting dark at four in the afternoon.”
“That does suck. Why do you live here again?” Spencer returns Jon’s grin. “It can’t be because of the weather.”
“Ah, that’s a cheap shot. I’ll let you know we have some nice days around here.”
“I remember.”
“Yeah, you stayed me with that one time, after … I can’t even remember what tour it was.”
Spencer gives him a sidelong glance. “Honda Civic Tour.”
Or, what Jon used to think of in his head as the beginning of the end, but at the same time, the moment when they were the most together on stage, having the most fun. Actually, every time he smells pot (which isn’t that often anymore), it reminds him of that tour. Because they were pretty much stoned the entire time.
“I can’t believe that was“ -- Jon counts backward in his head – “almost ten years now. Holy shit.”
“You know, when we asked you to come back …”
Jon swallows. Here it comes. The thing he didn’t want to talk about.
“… we meant it,” Spencer continues. “And the offer is still out there.”
“I don’t – can we not –“ Jon fumbles for words. It’s nice that the offer still stands, but really, it would be easier if it didn’t.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” Spencer pauses long to signal the bartender and order another beer. “I just wanted you to know,” he adds, and then he turns his attention to getting a drink.
Ryan called Jon right after his divorce went through, about a year and a half ago. He guesses Ryan got stuck with the job because he was the only one Jon still talked to. Somehow, their relationship made it easier to say no, that he was going through a rough time, that he was on tour with Empires, and he was happier doing his own thing. Ryan already knew all those things. He probably even knew Jon would say no, but he still called to ask.
Then he went online after Panic announced their reunion tour, and that was a stupid idea. He saw a lot of fans who were sad that he wasn’t back, but there were a few who wrote that they were glad Jon didn’t decide to return because he was never an original member of the band to begin with. That stung. He’d clicked off his browser that night never wanting to read anything about himself online ever again.
“Anyway, how’s the band going?” Jon asks. “I heard the new single.”
“Good,” Spencer says, and he seems to relax, his shoulders straightening out. “We just got off the first leg of the tour for the album.”
A couple of weeks ago, Jon heard Panic’s most recent single in the car on WXRT, as he pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. He had to sit in his car until it was over, hit hard by the idea that it was something he could have been a part of, but also because it was a damn good song.
And then he went home and downloaded the album, hearing it for the first time even though it had been out for a few months. It was all there, just like he’d remembered: Brendon’s voice and Ryan’s guitar and Spencer’s drums. He had no idea who played bass on the record; probably Brendon, if he had to guess. The funny thing was, after that initial, “Shit, I could have been on this record” moment, he was happy for them and able to just sit back and enjoy the music without thinking, I used to be a part of this.
“I liked it,” Jon says. “You got some good reviews.”
Spencer snorts. “Pitchfork said it was ‘like a group of overzealous high schoolers at their first talent show, borrowing the weird pop aesthetic of Grizzly Bear and the surf-rock harmonies of Best Coast.’”
“You memorized it?”
“I read it many times, to several different people.”
“But they said your drumming was one of the bright spots.”
“Go me.” Spencer gives him a weak smile. Then he sighs. “Ryan tends to pay a lot of attention to that stuff, though.”
“He still acts weird when he reads reviews?”
Spencer nods, but he doesn’t say anything, and Jon gets the feeling this isn’t a good topic. They’re quiet, but the roar of the bar is around them, drowning out whatever awkward silence exists between them. When Spencer speaks again, it startles Jon.
“Were you serious? I mean, about wanting to come with me on the roadtrip?”
Jon thinks for a moment, if he wanted to, he could back out of that right now. Instead he says, “Yes.”
“You actually want to get in a car with me for several days and drive to California.” Spencer leans in, staring at him. “Are you sure you don’t have a fever or something? Or, are you sure you’re not high?”
Jon laughs. “No, I’m fine.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow morning around nine and driving to Des Moines.”
“I figure I can bring my camera and guitar and maybe get inspired to do something.” He finishes off his beer. "I think I need the change of scenery."
“You can be my partner in crazy ideas,” Spencer says. “Although this is probably the best thing I’ve done in a while.”
“Yeah?”
“Even though Ohio sucked. Yeah, I think doing something spur-of-the-moment was kind of necessary.”
Spencer pulls out his phone to check the time. “I probably should head back to my hotel if I’m waking up early tomorrow.”
“Me, too. Do you want me to meet you, or …?”
“I’ll pick you up, but if you change your mind, let me know.”
This is the most spontaneous thing Jon has done in years (driving crosscountry with his former bandmate he hasn't seen in years? Seriously?), but being with Spencer even for a short time tonight just felt right. It made him miss everything that worked about Panic, and even some of the things that didn’t. It's coincidental that most of things that worked were because of Spencer, that even though it's a big cliché, he really was the glue that held them all together, the one who could keep a cool head when everyone else started to bicker.
They walk outside, and Jon forgot how cold Chicago is at night in November. He buttons up his coat and turns toward Spencer, who’s looking up at the buildings a block away, humming a familiar tune that Jon can’t immediately place. He must notice Jon’s curious look, because Spencer points at the buildings in front of them and says, “They were on the cover of a Wilco album.”
“Right,” Jon says. He lives here; sometimes he forgets stuff like that. And the album is at least fifteen years old now. He shivers a little bit and sticks his hands in his coat pockets. “So, tomorrow morning.”
Spencer pulls out his phone and hands it over to Jon. “You should probably put your address in there since I have no idea where you live. You’re not still out in the suburbs, are you?”
Jon shakes his head. “Not since Cassie and I split up.”
“Yeah, Ryan told me about that.” Spencer gives him a sympathetic look, but it’s not a pitying one, which is a relief. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s been a year and a half,” Jon says, and he waves his free hand. He doesn’t look up from the screen of Spencer’s iPhone. “And it wasn’t like we were fighting, or anything really happened, we just – “ He looks up, and Spencer is still giving him that same look, like he understands that it was sad but necessary. “You get to a certain point, where you’ve been with someone most of your life, but you end up growing apart anyway. It was kind of like that, which makes it sound simple. But it kind of was that simple.”
He finishes putting his address in Spencer’s phone and hands it back, pressing it into his palm. “So, I moved into the city.”
Spencer nods, and he slips his phone back into his pocket. “Do you like it?”
Jon nods. He has a little house in Andersonville, enough room for Marley to go outside when he feels like it, and the place has a nice, neighborhood feel. It was something he was missing out in the suburbs, where he had no neighbors and no sidewalks, no coffeeshop on the corner to hang out in.
“We should probably get some sleep,” Jon says, “since we’re leaving tomorrow.”
And what the hell is his life that he’ll be on his way to California tomorrow with Spencer. Talk about things he never could have seen coming.
“Yeah. I think I’m going to get a cab back to my hotel.”
“Smart move.” Jon smiles. “Wouldn’t want you to do what I did and ride around in a circle for an hour on the L.”
“How is that even possible?”
“I’m easily confused by public transportation, what can I say? Besides, you’re the one who got lost coming here.” Jon gently pokes Spencer in the chest, easing back into their old familiarity like it’s nothing.
“Which is why I’m taking a cab back.” And Spencer pokes him back, laughing.
“I guess I’ll see you in the morning, then. Call me if you get lost.”
“The rental car has built in GPS.”
“GPS has failed me before. One time, it told me to drive into Lake Michigan. It was like,” and Jon affects a robotic voice, “’turn right into Lake Michigan.’ And it pronounced ‘Michigan’ really weird, too, with the stress on the wrong syllable.”
“I won’t drive into the lake, Jon. I promise.”
“Shit, I have to go pack,” Jon says, lightly smacking his palm against his forehead. “You need – you need things if you’re going on a trip.”
“It would be helpful to have things like clean clothes and a toothbrush,” Spencer says.
“One time when we were on tour I wore the same jeans for the entire tour and didn’t wash them.”
“I remember, and it was gross.”
Jon grins. “I’ll let you know my laundry habits have improved.”
“I’m thrilled that you’ve discovered detergent,” Spencer deadpans.
They smile stupidly at each other for a moment, and then Jon says, “Well, I should go catch my train.”
A cab drives by with its light on, and Spencer hurries over to the curb to hail it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jon gives him a little wave, and he watches as the cab pulls away from the curb, his head reeling that this isn’t goodbye, that this is the beginning of something else entirely.
*
Spencer picks up Jon a few minutes after nine the next morning. Jon is sitting on his front stoop with the duffel bag he’s packed for the trip, and he’s been out there for at least fifteen minutes freezing his ass off.
Jon tosses his duffel in the trunk when Spencer opens it, then he climbs into the car.
“Morning,” Spencer says. He’s wearing sunglasses and looking better than he has any right to this early in the morning. Not that it’s really early, but usually Jon isn’t doing much more than lazing around his house at this time of day.
“I got you coffee,” Spencer says, nodding down at the cups in the holder as Jon buckles up.
“Both of them for me?” Jon picks up one cup and smiles over at him.
“I need the caffeine more than you do.”
“Yeah, why’s that?”
“I’m driving.”
“We can split up the driving,” Jon says. “Maybe switch every couple of hours or so.”
Spencer nods, and he pulls away from the curb. “Can you hand me my coffee?”
“Ah, now I see the real reason you asked me along: professional coffee handler.” Jon picks up the coffee and puts it in Spencer’s hand.
“That’s not true!” Spencer laughs.
“Coffee handler and person who switches the song when something you don’t like comes up on shuffle. That’s me.”
“You’re more than that,” Spencer says, and something funny happens in Jon’s chest. He doesn’t ignore it, just lets the feeling settle there. “But you really should pick a song. We need road trip music.”
Spencer’s iPhone is docked in the car, hooked up to the speakers. Jon scrolls through some playlists until he finds one called “Roadtrip Jams 2017.”
“You have a playlist called ‘Roadtrip Jams 2017’?” Jon raises an eyebrow.
“Yes, and if you make fun of it –“
“I’m not making fun of it. That’s an amazing name for a playlist.” Jon hits play, and he leans back in the seat as “Chicago” by Sufjan Stevens starts.
“These songs were the only thing that got me through the first half of this trip,” Spencer says. He brakes at a red light and takes a long drink from his extra-large coffee cup. He fiddles with the volume control, turning it down, then back up to where it was. “I turned around in Ohio because I was sick of driving through it, but also so I could come to Chicago. I knew I had to drive through here on my way home.” He hesitates, and Jon can’t remember seeing him this way before, unsure of his words. “I wanted to see you.”
Jon holds his own coffee in his hands, lets the heat warm them up. And maybe it’s a stupid question to ask, but he asks it anyway: “Why?” Because, really why? It had been so long, what would another six years be? What would forever be?
“Yeah. I just – it’d been so long, and I can’t think of here without thinking about you,” Spencer says, and his foot presses against the gas when the light turns green. Sufjan gets through another verse before Spencer speaks again. “I don’t even know why we went so long without talking.”
“I don’t know, either.”
“Well, we weren’t in the same place; I was back and forth between Vegas and L.A., and you were here.”
“We were never in the same place, Spencer,” Jon says, “except when we were on tour, or recording.”
“I know, but I was going to say, it didn’t matter. We could have emailed, texted, Twittered, whatever.”
“But there was a while after the band split that we weren’t talking at all.”
“There was some animosity, yeah.”
“That’s kind of putting it mildly.”
Jon can remember the arguments, the way they split up like they were on two different teams, picking sides and choosing directions. He chose one way, and Spencer chose the other, and they’d both probably be very different people if they hadn’t made those decisions.
“Things are better now, though,” Spencer says, and he sticks his coffee cup back in the cup holder. Jon watches him, careful to make sure he can catch it just in case Spencer would miss. “With everything, and musically, too.”
Jon wants to ask if it’s because he’s not there, but it’s petty, stupid, and self-centered to assume that. It’s just that some days, like when he hears what the band is doing now, how it matches up a little bit better to the kind of music he wanted to play, he doubts not saying yes to coming back. He thinks about the what-if sometimes, and what it might be like to be on a stage again with Ryan, Brendon, and Spencer, if it would feel like it used to.
“Anyway, I’m going to shut up now,” Spencer says, and he merges onto the interstate. It’s a few more minutes before he adds, a glint in his eye, “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind? Last chance.”
“I don’t. Spencer, seriously, I want to be here. It was unexpected, but I kind of think it’s what I needed right now.”
“It’s what I needed, too.”
“Good.”
“Just to get out of L.A. and do something different. I keep thinking I should fuck off to, I don’t know, Hawaii or maybe even the middle of nowhere and I’d be happier.”
“Why’s that?” Jon flips open the tab on his coffee cup to drink some; it’s going to start getting cold if he just keeps holding it.
“There’s just something about it. I’ve been there for a while, mostly for the band, but I need a change and that’s probably why I just decided to leave without telling anyone.”
“Wait, you didn’t tell anyone you were leaving?”
“Well, they figured it out. Ryan and Brendon, and I told my mom when she called me.”
Jon has felt like a change of scenery from time to time, but never so much that he’d want to just up and leave for the middle of nowhere. He might have just randomly left town on a roadtrip now, but he knows he’s coming back. He knows there’s no other place he’d want to be in the long run besides Chicago.
“Would you really just move? Are things that bad?”
“Things aren’t bad; it’s just more that I’m getting restless.” Spencer shrugs. “Not just with where I’m living, but it’s like I’ve done nothing but the band since – well, forever, really. Half of my life has been wrapped up in it.”
“And it’s driving you a little crazy.”
“Kind of. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I’ve done it for so long that I haven’t done anything else. And I have my shit together; I have a house, and I have the band, and it should be great, but it’s like something is missing.”
“I’ve felt that way before, too.”
“Yeah?” Some of the tension seems to ease out of Spencer’s body as he relaxes against the seat.
“Still do, sometimes.”
“I think I needed to do this on my own just because I haven’t done anything on my own in so long.”
“And then I came along and messed up your plan?” Jon laughs.
“No, you didn’t. It was starting to get lonely. I drove four days all by myself, and it wasn’t easy. I started talking to myself at one point just to keep myself awake.”
“That’s not good.”
“I had to pull over and slept in the car for a couple of hours at a rest stop.”
“If you need me to drive, just let me know.”
Spencer turns up the volume on the stereo. “I’m fine now.”
“You better drink this,” Jon says, and he pushes the coffee cup into Spencer’s hand.
To his credit, Spencer laughs and accepts the cup. “Yes, Jon, just fill me with tons of coffee so I never fall asleep.”
“You’ve uncovered my secret plan.” Jon reaches for the iPhone and starts to shuffle through songs. “You have Robyn on here.”
“Because she’s awesome.“
Jon pushes play on “Dancing on My Own.” He starts to move his shoulders to the beat and pretends to play the drums, which makes Spencer snort with amusement.
“If you dance like that the entire trip, you have to promise to let me film it at least once.”
“If you’re going to share it with the internet, no.”
“Then what’s the point? You have to let the entire world see.”
“My amazing dance moves are for your eyes only.”
“I think we should go to a dance club,” Spencer announces, and then he turns to Jon with a devious grin.
“Because you’re going to find a dance club in the middle of a cornfield in fucking Iowa or Nebraska or wherever.”
“There’s probably one in Omaha. We’ll be there tomorrow.”
“You’re going to have to get me really drunk. I’m an expensive date.”
“Oh, so I have to wine and dine you to get you out on a dance floor?”
“I am not cheap, Spencer. Only the finest liquors for me.”
“You’ll drink the shittiest beer they have, and you’ll like it.”
“The sad thing is that’s kind of true. But, hey, are you going to be joining me on the floor at this club?”
“After a few scotches, yes.”
“Good, we can look like idiots together.”
“Do you remember that one time on tour, we were in – I want to say it was somewhere in Florida – and we went to this club, which was stupid because we all hated it except for Brendon, because he made us go, and the owner came over and offered Brendon a position as a go-go dancer, right there on the spot.”
Jon had forgotten that story, but he starts laughing now. “The best part is Brendon was a terrible dancer. And he said no, but you could tell he was flattered.”
“Don’t worry, he still has no idea what he’s doing; he just shakes his ass and calls it dancing.”
Jon misses them so much, the ridiculous moments and stories that made him love his time with the band. It feels like everything was so specific to a certain time and place, though, that it could never happen again.
*
They arrive in Des Moines late in the afternoon, and it’s not like they’ve been in the car that long, but Jon keeps nodding off. His head moves down only to snap back up again every few minutes. The last time he does this, he notices signs for Des Moines and tries to force himself to stay awake.
“Do we have a hotel for tonight?” he asks, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window.
“We have no hotels for this entire trip,” Spencer says, and he sounds almost excited by the idea, like this is more of an adventure that way.
At Jon’s slightly horrified look, Spencer adds, “No, we’re not staying in the car. We’ll find a place to stay.”
“You should really think about booking in advance on your phone,” Jon says. “I’ll pay half of whatever the total is.”
“Maybe for tomorrow.” He yawns, hiding his mouth behind his hand. “It did not look like this was that far from Chicago on the map.”
“Google says five and a half hours, but it ends up being more like seven with stopping and traffic.”
“And seven hours doesn’t really sound all that bad, but it feels bad.”
Jon stretches out his legs and arms. “Exactly.”
Spencer pulls up to the first decent-looking hotel they find and parks the car as the GPS protests, “Recalculating.” He mutters “shut up” at it under his breath.
Jon stabs his finger into the on/off button to turn off the GPS, which they’ve decided to call Gertrude. (Halfway here, Jon said, “It needs a name,” and Spencer responded, “Gertrude.” It fits.) He leans his head back against the seat cushion and looks at Spencer. “I think I’m ready to fall asleep.”
“Me, too.”
“We should go check in.”
Spencer groans and extricates himself from the driver’s seat, and Jon gets out of the passenger’s side, stretching and blinking, his eyes adjusting to the light outside and not being in the car anymore.
They check in, and the woman at the counter says the only rooms available have one bed, and would that be okay? Jon’s stomach starts to do flip-flops, and no, he is not going to freak out about this. Absolutely not. King-size beds are huge, right? There should be more than enough room for each of them to have a side and stay on it.
“Are you okay with this?” Jon says when they walk inside the room.
“We used to share spaces a lot smaller than this,” Spencer replies.
True, and when it happened, they woke up entirely too close to each other. It was years ago – god, over ten years ago – when Jon was new to the band and trying to convince himself that he wasn’t attracted to Spencer, that he couldn’t be because he had a girlfriend whom he loved a lot and was happy with. He couldn’t understand the idea of being attracted to Spencer but not loving or wanting Cassie any less. It felt wrong somehow, not because Spencer was a dude, but because it felt wrong to want anyone but his girlfriend. Sharing a bed made him want Spencer, to kiss him, to touch him and be touched by him.
So after a couple of hotel nights on that first tour with Panic, he and Spencer didn’t share a bed too often, or they had rooms with two separate beds. As time went on, they would still flirt and touch without realizing it; Jon only recognized what they were doing as flirting when Ryan said something. (It went like, “Hey, you know, some people were making comments on a YouTube video of you and Spencer being interviewed saying that it looks like you’re fucking,” and Jon’s face turning bright red.)
“What side do you want?” Jon asks, eyeing the bed.
“Doesn’t matter.” Spencer shrugs and sets down his suitcase, starting to remove toiletries and carrying them into the bathroom.
Jon flops down on the right side of the bed and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how long it is, but it can’t be too much later when he senses a warm weight resting nearby. He opens an eye and sees Spencer curled up on his side facing Jon, his eyes closed and his arms pressed against his chest. He’s about three feet away, and it takes all of Jon’s self-control not to close that distance. These feelings had been dormant for years, and now, being around Spencer again, feeling how fucking right it is when they’re together, they’re all coming back.
He’s never so much as kissed another guy. He’s never had sex with anyone but Cassie; he met her when he was sixteen, and she was his first everything. He hasn’t dated at all since he got divorced, so, actually, considering how long he was with Cassie, he hasn’t dated since he was a teenager.
He’s thirty-two years old, and he feels completely inexperienced and inept. Even if he were to try anything with Spencer, how the hell would he go about doing it? Spencer might not even be receptive to it. Of course that’s a risk with asking anyone out, but with Spencer it causes him to be even more fraught with anxiety.
Being attracted to a guy isn’t freaking him out -- he’s found guys attractive for as long as he can remember, but he was always more attracted to women. What’s weird about this is that it’s Spencer, and there’s a history there, memories of feelings he thought were in the past. Feelings he hasn’t thought about in years.
Truthfully, and this might be one of the saddest thoughts he’s ever had, he split up with his wife and he didn’t think he’d ever be with anyone ever again. He wasn’t even too bothered by the idea because the alternative – getting out and trying to meet people – seemed insurmountable. Trying to date again just wasn’t something he wanted to try, not out of laziness, but out of uncertainty and fear. Wanting Spencer makes him fearful in the same way, wondering what Spencer would say or do if he knew.
He’s known Spencer eleven years of his life, and they didn’t even speak for six of them. Thinking back on today, on their conversations in the car and how good it was to see him last night, all that time apart seems like the dumbest thing in the world. He let Spencer disappear from his life for completely petty reasons that last mattered to the two of them when they were in their early twenties.
And now Spencer is here, warm and breathing on Jon’s skin, and his hands want to reach out, for Spencer to understand everything Jon wants to say through his touch.
Part Two
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