Pas de Trois (Part Five): gift for roga

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Back to Part Four

The next morning Brendon woke up feeling hot, but comfortable. He tried to turn over, but he was stopped by Spencer, who had curled around Brendon.

"Morning," Spencer said.

"Good morning." Brendon turned around inside Spencer's arms. Spencer looked at him with sleepy eyes, his hair wild, but he was smiling. Brendon felt he could get used to those smiles. "Do you have any objections to early morning kisses?"

Spencer grinned. "No, I don't." He turned on his back and pulled Brendon on top of him. They kissed for a few long minutes, until Brendon was jittery again.

A knock on the door interrupted them. Spencer groaned. "What is it?"

The door was opened a crack. "Mr Spencer, it is time to get up," Johnson said.

"Thank you," Spencer said. "I will be down in a few minutes." Brendon muffled his groan against the pillow. Foiled again, he thought. Everyone was conspiring to keep Brendon desperate--the previous night had but taken the edge off the worst of it, but being so close to Spencer and having to let go now was like torture.

"I will see to it that breakfast is prepared." Johnson closed the door again.

"No, please don't go," Brendon said. He kissed Spencer again. "Please?"

Spencer sighed. "I don't want to," he said, "but I must." He kissed Brendon softly. "Tonight?"

Brendon rolled off him, sighing loudly. "Tonight."

Spencer kissed him one more time.

"You're going to be late," Brendon said softly.

"I know." Spencer pressed his face into Brendon's hair. "Stay in bed a bit longer," he said. "It'll make leaving easier for me."

Brendon nodded and sighed, pretended to be miserable. "I think that means I now have to ... take matters into my own hands."

Spencer whimpered. "You are evil," he said.

Brendon grinned. "You still are in bed with me," he said.

"Evil, evil, evil," Spencer said. He pressed one more kiss against Brendon's temple and rolled out of bed. "Think of me today," he said. "I'll be looking forward to tonight.

Brendon waited until Spencer had left the room. Although he was disappointed to see Spencer leave, Brendon didn't want to be overly cruel to Spencer. He closed his eyes and slowly wrapped his hand around himself.

It felt good, although Brendon wished that it was Spencer touching him, Spencer's long fingers around his cock. It was easy to imagine him being there, lying in Spencer's bed and smelling Spencer all around him.

Since it was still early, Brendon thought he could take his time. He teased himself, slowing down every time he felt close to coming. By the time he couldn't hold on any longer, he was bathed in sweat, twitching and shuddering with every touch. When he came, he sighed--part relief, part disappointment.

The day passed excruciatingly slowly. Brendon just wanted Spencer to come back home to him, so that they could continue to ... further their relationship.

Brendon had someone call for a piano tuner to fix the piano, which didn't help his impatience.

"Why aren't they here yet?"

"They said 11 o'clock, sir," Johnson said.

Brendon suspected that Cook had a hand in Virginia coming by every few minutes with something else to keep Brendon busy. He didn't know whether to be thankful or annoyed, at first, but he settled on gratitude. Brendon found it difficult to focus enough to think of things to do on his own. Having the servants require his attention and guidance helped, though.

"Mr Brendon, the piano tuner is here," Johnson said.

"Thank you," Brendon said. "Finally."

It was a delight to watch the man work. With each key that sounded in tune again, Brendon became more agitated. He felt like he was coming back to life again.

"See, sir, now she's singing properly again," the man said.

"Good work," Brendon said as he experimentally played the first song that came into his mind. "It sounds wonderful."

"Aye, she's a beauty," the man said. "Tragedy to let her get into that state. Not to be too forward, sir."

"I know," Brendon said softly. "I thank you for coming out this quickly."

"It was my pleasure."

Brendon could only play for a short while until Anna called him for supper. "Is Spencer home yet?"

"I'm sorry, Mr Brendon," Anna said. "I haven't seen him yet."

Eating supper alone seemed even more lonely now. He poked at his food more than he ate, and Cook clucked her tongue when she came in to talk to him about the next day.

"You must eat, Master Brendon," she said.

"I will eat later with Spencer," Brendon said. "I enjoy eating in company more."

Cook didn't seem convinced. She looked at Brendon until Brendon had cleaned off his plate, only then she started with her list of things they needed to buy.

"How did you manage before?" Brendon asked as he signed off every item. "Did you have to ask Ryan or George?"

"No, I just went ahead and bought what I needed," Cook said. "Neither of them care much for what it takes to run a house."

"You should keep doing it like that," Brendon said. "You mustn't ask me for permission every time you need flour."

"Master Brendon," Cook said. "It is not proper, and you do know how to run a house."

Brendon sighed. "Well, if you think it must be..."

"It must," Cook said. "I shall send Anna to take care of those errands first thing tomorrow."

Brendon nodded. "As you will."

Spencer came home late. Brendon had read an entire chapter of the book Spencer had recommended him to clear up his confusion about the import/export business, when he finally heard Spencer come into the dining room.

"Good evening," Brendon said softly.

Spencer smiled at him. He moved slowly and he sounded exhausted. "Good evening." Nevertheless, he enveloped Brendon in a hug and kissed him.

Brendon melted against him. "I've been waiting for you all day."

Spencer laughed quietly. "Just let me eat dinner first, all right?"

Brendon sighed. "I will eat with you," he said.

Cook brought out the food herself. "Someone needs to make sure you are eating right," she said. "You need to keep up your strength."

Although Brendon was sure that Cook wasn't referring to their nightly activities, he still couldn't keep from blushing.

"Thank you, Cook, for taking such good care of us," Spencer said. "We'll be taking an early night to get all the rest we need."

"All right, sirs," Cook said. Brendon didn't imagine the wink she threw at Spencer.

"She knows," Brendon whimpered, after Cook had left the room.

Spencer laughed. "She's known about Ryan and me since the very first moment," he said. "Someone had to change his sheets, after all."

Brendon hid his face in his hands. "Please don't tell me any more," he said, "or I won't be able to look the servants into the face anymore."

"As you wish," Spencer said.

As soon as Spencer was done eating, Brendon got up. "Can we go upstairs now?" he said, already reaching for Spencer's hand.

Spencer smiled and let Brendon pull him onto his feet. "Of course," he said.

Brendon managed to keep his hands to himself until they were in Spencer's room, which he considered to be a sign of huge restraint. As soon as the door closed behind them, however, he started unbuttoning Spencer's shirt immediately.

"No kissing?" Spencer sounded amused. "I thought you liked it."

"I do," Brendon said. "But I want to be, I want to see you naked."

"Still so impatient," Spencer said. He pushed Brendon's hair behind his ears and let his hands rest at the base of Brendon's head. "I like that."

"Hmm," Brendon said as he pulled Spencer's shirt out of his trousers. "There, all done."

Spencer tipped Brendon's chin up and kissed him soundly. Brendon clutched Spencer's hips tightly and pushed hard against Spencer.

"We need to get out of these," Spencer said and he tugged on Brendon's pants.

Brendon held his breath as Spencer carefully and slowly opened the fastenings. He closed his eyes as Spencer let them fall down. They slipped easily over Brendon's thighs and Brendon felt almost giddy as he stood in front of his husband half-dressed.

"Let's get into bed," Spencer said softly and he pressed a kiss against Brendon's cheek.

"Finally," Brendon said.

Now that they were in bed, the urgency left Brendon, and he was content just kissing and touching Spencer. The previous day, he'd been too caught up in that it was finally happening to properly appreciate Spencer. In this moment, Brendon used the opportunity to learn Spencer's body, just as Spencer was exploring Brendon's.

"That tickles," Brendon said when Spencer ran his fingers feather-light over his ribs.

Spencer just hummed and closed his lips around Brendon's nipple, gently sucking on it.

"God, Spencer, please," Brendon asked, although he was only half-sure of what he was asking for. He wanted everything at once and he didn't care what he got first. "Please."

Spencer tsked. "So eager," he said and pressed a kiss against Brendon's clavicle. "Your skin tastes so good," he mumbled.

"Please," Brendon repeated. "Spencer, I need--"

Spencer rolled on top of Brendon. The moment their groins touched, Brendon groaned loudly and he automatically parted his legs to accommodate Spencer. It felt perfect.

"Like this?" Brendon asked. "I thought we were going to wait for Ryan."

"We are," Spencer said. "That is something to be shared between the three of us. But that's not what I have in mind." He moved his hips in small circles, and each brush of their skin was accompanied by Brendon's moans.

"Yes," Brendon groaned. "Yes, this is all right, god, don't stop."

Spencer laughed and leaned down for a kiss. "I wasn't planning on doing that."

It was good, their cocks rubbing against each other. Brendon pushed up hard against Spencer, pulling him down, wanting more pressure, more touch, just moremoremore. It was good, but it just wasn't enough.

"Wait," Brendon choked and he pushed his hand against Spencer's chest. "Hold on for a moment."

"Brendon?" Spencer asked, but then he groaned, as Brendon reached down between their bodies and wrapped his hand around both their cocks.

"Better now," Brendon whispered and Spencer kissed him roughly, biting as his lips, as he rolled his hips faster and harder than before. Now that Brendon could control the pressure better, he gasped and shuddered with each movement.

"You're a genius," Spencer said against Brendon's skin, licking at his shoulder. "You're a fucking genius."

Brendon laughed, short guffaws, half out-of-breath. "Not quite yet," he said.

It seemed like only a matter of seconds before Spencer came--first, Brendon noted with just a hint of smugness, and Brendon followed close behind.

Spencer collapsed on top of Brendon afterwards, his weight almost enough to keep Brendon from breathing, but just almost. Brendon curled his arms and legs around Spencer and held him close. He wanted to crawl inside Spencer and stay there, be connected to him always.

"That was wonderful," Brendon managed between gulping in breaths. "Thank you."

Spencer chuckled. "You're welcome," he said and pressed a kiss against Brendon's nose tip.

~~~***~~~

"Would you like to accompany me to the office today?" Spencer asked the next morning.

Brendon looked up at Spencer. "Of course," he said. "If I won't be too much of a bother."

Spencer laughed. "I've told you before--you never are. But I would like to show you the work. It's surprisingly quiet at the moment, and I would be able to answer any of your questions."

"Then I would love to," Brendon said. The servants were busy enough with the additional tasks Brendon had already given them, and he longed to be out of the house. He wished Ginger was already back from the south, but it seemed like her mother's illness was graver than she'd let on. It would be an adventure, he thought. An adventure in book-keeping. "When would you like to leave?"

"Right after breakfast, if it suits you."

Brendon nodded. "I just need to get my coat."

The offices were a bit of a let-down.

"It looks a bit like my old teacher's room," Brendon said, as he studied the desks and shelves.

"Let me guess: it's the books?" Spencer took Brendon's hand. "That is why it's called book-keeping, Brendon."

"I knew that," Brendon said. "I just imagined it to be more--I don't know." He glanced a box.

Spencer laughed. "It's not very glamourous," he said. "Unless you're in a warehouse surrounded by silk or spices, then you feel like the king of the world. But right here we are dealing with numbers."

"And numbers alone," Brendon said. Spencer led him into another room where eight people were already sitting bowed over stacks of paper. They all jumped up when they saw Spencer.

"Clerks, this is my husband, Mr Brendon Ross, né Urie," Spencer said. "He will help Thomas today."

A young man, blond and bespectacled, hurried forward. "Sir, it'll be my pleasure," he said.

"I would like you to show Brendon how to cross-check the inventories," Spencer said. "With the new shipments coming in, we must be sure about how much space we have left in our warehouses."

"Very well, sir." Thomas nodded and bowed deeply.

"I'll be in my office," Spencer said to Brendon. "If there are any problems, please come and get me."

"I will," Brendon said.

Spencer kissed Brendon. "I'll see you this afternoon."

Checking the inventories was easy, but it was mind-numbingly boring. Brendon found it difficult to focus on the long pages filled with numbers. Somehow, in his schoolbooks, it hadn't seemed quite so tedious. He used the chance to chatter with Thomas, who took it in a rather amused way.

"And your wife is expecting another child soon?" Brendon asked as he read tea, 50 boxes and copied it to the master list.

"Yes, next month, if all goes well," Thomas said.

"Do you already--"

"It's time to go home," Spencer said. He was leaning against Brendon's temporary desk. "Unless you're having too much fun to leave?"

"Oh, no, no, I'm ready!" Brendon smiled at Thomas as he got up.

"Were you terribly bored?" Spencer asked, smiling, as he was leading them to the carriage.

"No, it's--it's very interesting work," Brendon said.

Spencer laughed. "You shouldn't lie," he said. "I could see your eyes glazing over."

"I'm sorry," Brendon said. He had expected something different than reading lists all day.

"It's all right," Spencer said.

"You don't mind?" Brendon asked quietly. He felt he had rather disappointed Spencer. All his studying had led to nothing. "I have wasted so much time reading up on business things, I feel like I should be able to be more interested."

"Oh, Brendon," Spencer said. He smiled and kissed Brendon's temple. "You didn't waste your time--you made the effort to understand, and that's already more than enough."

"But don't you need me?"

Spencer laughed. "Not in the office," he said. "Two of us are probably as many bosses our clerks can endure."

Brendon thought of Thomas who had quietly corrected all of Brendon's mistakes ("A hundredweight of pepper?"--"Oh, I'm sorry, it's a pound."). "You might be right," he said.

Good news was waiting for them at home, though.

"Master Brendon, Master Spencer, a letter from Master Ryan has arrived," Johnson said.

Brendon eagerly took the offered envelope. "It's time-stamped two days ago," he said.

"Let's see what he writes," Spencer said.

"Oh! They'll be back in only three days!" Brendon beamed at Spencer. "They managed to discharge the shipment quickly, Ryan writes, and they already found someone to ship it to the city."

"That's great news!" Spencer stood behind Brendon and looked over his shoulder to read Ryan's letter. He put his arms around Brendon, and Brendon reached for Spencer's hand and squeezed it.

"We also have good news for Ryan," Brendon said quietly. "Do you think so?"

Being with Spencer was a delight, but it made Brendon also anxious. Brendon found Ryan still unpredictable.

"I think he'll be glad," Spencer said. He patted the couch next to him until Brendon sat down. He put his head on Spencer's shoulder and let Spencer wrap his arm around Brendon's middle. "Don't worry so much."

"I'm--I'm sorry to be so impatient," Brendon said. "I just wish--"

Spencer kissed Brendon's hair. "I know," he said. "I wish for us to be together, too, but Ryan, he's--" Spencer sighed.

"Why is he so cautious with me?" Brendon asked. "I understand that I hurt him--my reaction in our wedding night was hardly very sophisticated, but weeks have passed and he is still keeping me at a distance."

Spencer took a deep breath. "Before we announced the engagement with you," he said, "Ryan was a heavily contested prize."

"Prize," Brendon said. "Like a trophy?"

"Exactly." Spencer stroked his fingers over Brendon's side. "He's worth a lot of money--many people were interested in him. Ryan's learned to protect himself," he said. "So many have tried to win him over before that these days everyone has to work twice as hard to convince him." He kissed Brendon.

"Don't give up," Brendon said quietly.

"Yes," Spencer said. "Just give him time, please."

"I will," Brendon said. He leaned back against Spencer and enjoyed their intimacy. Spencer, Brendon thought, had much less reason to distrust people. If anything, Ryan might finally teach Brendon patience where all other teachers before him failed.

"Do you really think Ryan will be glad?"

"Yes, I think so." Spencer squeezed Brendon. "Don't think too much about it. Tomorrow he'll come back and you'll ask him yourself."

"I wish he were already home," Brendon said. "The house feels lonely without him."

Spencer laughed. "His letter said tomorrow afternoon."

"Will you be home by then?"

"I'll try to." Spencer kissed Brendon. "Come on, let's go to bed. Sleeping will make the time pass faster."

"That's a lie," Brendon said. "You just say that because you want me to be quiet."

"Maybe I just want you to be in my bed."

"Another possible explanation," Brendon said. He had to break out into a smile when he looked at Spencer, though.

"Please come to bed with me," Spencer said.

"I couldn't possibly say no to that?" Brendon kissed Spencer.

"I'm happy you feel that way." Spencer smiled back at Brendon.

"I just hope that Ryan will feel the same way."

"You worry too much," Spencer said.

Brendon thought that maybe Spencer was right. But Spencer got up and led Brendon to Spencer's bedroom, driving all worries out of his mind, at least for that night.

~~~***~~~

Brendon got up early the following day. "We still have so much to prepare," he told Cook. "Have they aired Ryan's room?"

"Of course, master," Cook said.

"Ryan said they would arrive in the early afternoon." Brendon looked over his list. "I would like you to prepare these dishes. They should be ready when they arrive."

"They will be."

"And tea," Brendon said. "We will need tea and--"

"Mr Brendon," Cook said. "I've seen both Mr Ryan and Master George come home from business trips before, and they have never lacked for anything they could desire. I know what I have to do."

"It's my first time," Brendon said. "I want everything to be perfect and--"

"Anna is scrubbing the ballroom once more," Cook said. "Virginia is preparing to deal with their laundry. I have prepared almost all of the dishes. Wouldn't you like to go and play some more of that piano of yours?"

"You're being insubordinate," Brendon grumbled. "I just want--"

"Everything to be perfect. Yes, master, and it will be. Trust us."

And just like that she pushed Brendon out of her kitchen. He couldn't be mad at her, though. Ryan coming home made Brendon nervous. He didn't want to give Ryan any cause for grief, but he also remembered Spencer's words and tried to not be too forward and pushy. He found it difficult to find a good middle-ground, as his emotions were raging inside.

Spencer had only sighed at Brendon, kissed the tip of his nose and told him not to worry himself to death. Brendon thought grimly that Spencer could talk--he could be sure of Ryan's affection, but Brendon still had to earn it. Ryan, Brendon had figured out, would not let himself be forced into anything.

Brendon checked the ballroom, but Anna sent him away. "It's not dry yet, master," she said. "You will slip."

"I just wanted to see," Brendon said, but he went away. He looked into Ryan's rooms (clean, bed made, cold from fresh air), the linen closets (just in case they needed fresh linens soon) and the sitting room. He sat at his desk and stared at his books. He was almost done with Spencer's schoolbooks, and now that he'd been to the office, he was less enthusiastic about figuring everything out.

"As long as I can understand what in heaven you're talking about over dinner, I'll be happy," Brendon had said to Spencer, who'd just smiled.

"We didn't desire any more than that from you," he said.

Brendon sighed loudly and leaned back in his chair. Even if he started to read now, he wouldn't comprehend a single word. He gave up and went to the music room. The piano had been properly cleaned and it was Brendon's treasure. He sat down and played the first song that came into his mind.

Playing was both comforting and relaxing. Brendon sat up straight, but the tension in his shoulders released and he could feel himself unclenching. It would be fine, he told himself. Ryan was soon coming home and maybe Brendon wouldn't get answers to his questions right away, but he would get them at some point. As long as Ryan tolerated Brendon in his home and as long as Spencer was still there, Brendon wouldn't give up.

He lost himself in his music, songs written by old, long-dead composers and his creations. When he stopped, he found himself longing for an audience, thought. Music had always been something to be shared--and these days Brendon always thought of Spencer and Ryan when he played.

It was getting late, though, and Brendon didn't want to miss Ryan's arrival. He relocated to the sitting room and started to work on his scores.

He'd discovered a few hand-written scores in a cupboard. "I think those were Mrs Margaret's," Cook had said, when Brendon had showed her. Brendon was trying to learn how to play one that seemed mostly finished, although it made him sad. Whoever Margaret had used to be, she'd had a fine ear for music and her compositions were elegant and beautiful. There had also been a few unfinished ones and those had piqued Brendon's interest.

He also occupied his time writing letters--he was awfully late in replying to his siblings. Still, he looked up every five minutes, listening intently for a carriage to come.

When it did come, Brendon was disappointed to find it was only Spencer coming home.

"I see that I've already been replaced in your affections," Spencer teased him. "Absence doth make the heart grow fonder."

"Oh, don't be joking about that," Brendon protested.

Spencer laughed. "I understand," he said and kissed Brendon. "But you haven't ever welcomed me with such a sad face."

"I'm sorry," Brendon said. "But I'd hoped they would be home by now."

"It's still early," Spencer said. "They will surely come soon."

But the afternoon turned into evening and still no sign.

"It's a difficult trip," Brendon told Spencer, although he hadn't ever been to the harbour city. "Maybe they were held up."

"That is very likely," Spencer said.

Supper time came and went.

"We would like to wait for Ryan," Spencer told Cook. "Please keep the food hot for a bit longer."

And then finally they heard the sounds of a carriage pulling up in front of the mansion. Brendon could hardly keep himself from passing Johnson on the way to the door, but Spencer took his hand and Brendon had to stick with Spencer's sedate pace.

"Good evening!" Brendon smiled at Ryan. He felt the worry and anger fall away--there were certainly perfectly good reasons why Ryan was so late, and right now it was only important that Ryan was here.

"Good evening, Brendon." Ryan smiled, but he was pale and dark rings under his eyes spoke of exhaustion.

"I'm glad you're back home," Brendon said and without thinking he leaned in and hugged Ryan.

At first Ryan went soft and relaxed against Brendon, but then he suddenly turned tense and moved away.

"Welcome home, Ryan," Spencer said softly. He received the same treatment from Ryan and seemed just as confused about it as Brendon was.

"Could Johnson maybe prepare a room for Father?" Ryan didn't look at either of them.

"Of course," Brendon said. "The guest rooms are ready."

"Where is your father?" Spencer asked.

"He's still in the carriage," Ryan said. "I'm sorry we're this late, but he insisted on stopping by the club first. Getting the news, so to speak."

"And a few large brandies, to go with them, I assume," Spencer said. He sounded uncharacteristically angry.

"Spencer, please," Ryan said. "Just--can we just get him into one of the guest rooms?"

"I'll call Johnson," Brendon said, and he left Ryan and Spencer alone in the foyer. He found Johnson in the kitchen, together with Cook. Neither seemed surprised at Ryan's request.

"We've already prepared the blue room," Cook said.

"Oh." Brendon blinked. "This happens sometimes?" Brendon had hardly seen his father-in-law since the wedding--an occasional dinner here and there. He'd seen Spencer's parents at least once a week during his time here, at least until Ginger had to leave, and it did seem odd that George didn't show any interest in how his son was faring. Brendon hadn't ever heard of George staying overnight in their admittedly short time of being married and the servants' ready acceptance and preparedness perplexed Brendon.

"It didn't used to," Cook said, and that was all the information Brendon could get out of her. It didn't help his confusion any.

When Brendon came back into the sitting room, Spencer was hugging Ryan and they were talking in soft voices. They abruptly stopped when Brendon entered the room.

"I think I'll retire now, too," Ryan said. He spoke slowly and didn't look at Brendon.

"It must have been an exhausting trip," Brendon said. He was disappointed that Ryan already left them alone now. He'd just arrived and Brendon wished to exchange more words with his husband than simple pleasantries. It was selfish, Brendon chided himself. Ryan had been away for several days and their arrival had been delayed for whatever reasons. It was only to be expected that he was tired and wouldn't be up for company.

"Good night," Ryan said and left.

"Come here," Spencer said and he wrapped his arms around Brendon. "I'm afraid I'll have to say goodnight to you, too."

"Already?" Brendon pushed his face against Spencer's neck and breathed in deeply. He'd grown fond of the way Spencer smelled, the clean smell of his soap. "This early?"

Spencer kissed Brendon's temple. "Ryan asked me to be with him tonight," he said.

"Oh," Brendon whispered. "Of course."

"I couldn't turn him down tonight," Spencer said, a desperate, harried note in his voice. "He often uses the time after to confide in me. I--"

"It's all right," Brendon said softly. "I understand." He forced a smile on his face. "Take care of him please."

Spencer pressed a soft kiss against Brendon's mouth. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "And I will. Please understand."

"You're his Spencer," Brendon said softly. "You've been his long before you were mine."

Unexpectedly his words made Spencer smile. "As long as you still remember that I am yours," he said. "And you're mine and Ryan's and--just give him time." He pushed Brendon's hair behind his ears--an affectionate gesture that he'd adopted soon after Brendon had mentioned he should get his hair cut. Brendon hadn't managed to bring himself to go the barber yet.

"I will find out what's up," Spencer said. "And--I will tell Ryan. Just a little bit more patience."

"I do understand," Brendon said. "I just wish I could help."

"You are helping me," Spencer said, and he kissed Brendon softly.

Brendon clung to him tightly, and he didn't want to let go at all. "You should go," he whispered into Spencer's ear. "He's waiting."

"Good night," Spencer said. "I'll--I wish you sweet dreams."

"Think of me," Brendon said as Spencer stepped away.

"Always," Spencer said.

It only was a comfort to Brendon until he found himself alone in his bedroom. In the past week Brendon had slept in Spencer's bed more often than not, and now he found it strange to slide under cold covers without a warm body next to him. It took him a long time to fall asleep. He hoped that at least Ryan would be able to get some rest.

~~~***~~~

"Spencer has told me you've done wonders in the upkeep of the house," Ryan said during breakfast. He seemed back to his old strength--but appearances were deceiving. The fast way he talked couldn't hide the lingering paleness of his skin or the red rims of his eyes, thrown into sharp relief by the blueish shadows underneath them. His father was nowhere to be seen. Not even his place had been set, so Brendon thought it better to ask Spencer late in private.

"I discovered the old ballroom," Brendon said.

"God, it must be in a dreadful state." Ryan frowned at his eggs. "Nobody's been in that part of the house for years."

"It did indeed need a good scrubbing," Brendon said. "But now it's been restored to its old glory."

"It is?" Ryan looked at Spencer.

Spencer laughed. "It is absolutely amazing," he said. "Shall we take a look later?"

"Aren't you going to the office today?"

"No," Spencer said. "The shipment won't arrive until tomorrow at the earliest, and the clerks can take care of today's business." He nodded toward Ryan, almost imperceptibly, and Brendon understood what Spencer meant--Ryan needed more rest.

Well, Brendon did not mind at all. It offered Brendon the chance to spend some time with Ryan. "I'll give you the grand tour later," Brendon said, smiling. "I hope you'll like it--all the servants gave their best."

"I'm looking forward to it," Ryan said. He was smiling, too, and Brendon felt butterflies in his stomach. He glanced quickly at Spencer--had he already told Ryan something?

But Spencer was also looking at Ryan, surprised. "I also showed him the music room," Spencer said.

Ryan's face turned wistful. "I miss Maggie's playing," he said. "She loved the piano."

"Brendon plays, too. And rather well."

Brendon laughed. "I used to sneak out of my tutoring room to play the piano instead of studying," he said. "It means I'm passable now."

"He's kidding," Spencer told Ryan. "He's great. Oh! And he found some of Maggie's unfinished compositions and ever since he's spent more time working on them in the music room than down here."

"That is not true," Brendon said. He pointed to his desk. "I was working on them here yesterday."

"I'm sorry," Spencer said laughing. "But maybe we should just move the couch into the music room," he teased, "so we'll see more of you."

"Or we could move the piano down here," Ryan said.

Brendon couldn't hide his surprise--and neither his pleasure. "Could we?"

"It used to be in the small room next to the ballroom." Ryan shrugged. "We just moved it upstairs when Maggie fell ill, so she wouldn't have to come downstairs all the time. If you wish to have it closer, we can put it right next to the sitting room."

Spencer carefully took Ryan's hand and reached over the table for Brendon's. "I think it's a wonderful idea," he said, and Brendon could reciprocate his smile without any effort. He felt overjoyed at Ryan's suggestion. In truth, the music room was cold and drafty, and Brendon would quite enjoy being closer to his husbands.

"But you must promise to play for us," Ryan said. His knuckles were white where he was holding on to Spencer's hand, but he, too, was smiling.

"I do," Brendon said and thought, I'll play anything you want me to. Music had always been Brendon's strongest talent--and if it helped him acquire Ryan's affection, all the better.

Later, when Brendon led his husbands to the ballroom, his knees were weak and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. What if Ryan didn't like it? Spencer had already seen the room and he'd assured Brendon that everything was fine, but Ryan was the one who lived in this house all his life and had seen the ballroom thriving with life.

It was more than the desire to impress Ryan--Brendon wanted Ryan to genuinely like Brendon, and he had no idea how to accomplish that, besides being himself and hoping that Ryan would grow fond of Brendon's quirks all by himself. It left Brendon feeling passive and useless--but there was no use in forcing a relationship where there was none yet. Feelings needed time, Brendon knew. But, oh, if he could expedite the process, it would take such a load off his shoulders.

Today, at least, Ryan seemed especially mild-mannered today. Brendon hoped that would be to his advantage.

"I'm not completely done with redecorating," Brendon said as he fiddled with the door knob. "Some of the paintings were quite dirty and had to be replaced, and maybe--"

"Brendon, let us in," Spencer said.

Brendon took a deep breath and he opened the door. Ryan was completely silent as he entered the room. He walked into the middle of the large dance floor, his shoes clacking on the slick and waxed floor. Brendon was proud of Anna--it had been a lot of work on top of her regular chores and she'd done very well.

Brendon hovered near Spencer. He wasn't quite using him as a shield, but Spencer offered comfort and when Spencer reached for his hand, Brendon took it without thinking.

"It's amazing," Ryan said softly. His voice resounded in the room, although he'd spoken very quietly. "You've worked a miracle in here."

"It was Anna, mostly," Brendon said. "And Virginia, too. They spent many hours cleaning."

Ryan laughed, and the sound startled Brendon. He didn't think he'd ever heard Ryan laughing so ... happily, Brendon thought. More often than not, Ryan had laughed about Brendon, low and dark, but this was a different sound, unguarded and free, with a note of giddiness.

Ryan turned around and the way he looked at Brendon filled Brendon with a sense of rightness. "Why did you do this?"

"Do what?"

Ryan motioned at the room around them. "Take care of things," he said. "I didn't ask you to. I sure as hell didn't give you any reason to go out of your way and do it."

Brendon blinked. "I'm your husband," he said. "And the house--I like being able to make it a home."

What followed was probably the first real smile Ryan had given Brendon. It made Brendon want to sit down, as he didn't trust his legs to keep him upright anymore. Thankfully, there was Spencer holding him.

Ryan noticed Spencer holding on to Brendon and his expression changed. He seemed taken aback and frowned. "Spencer, what?"

"Um," Brendon said. Ryan's reaction startled him. Hadn't Spencer told him? Also Spencer had said that they had discussed the matter. So why was Ryan so surprised now?

"There have been certain developments," Spencer said. "Which, uh. I wanted to tell you last night."

"I see," Ryan said. He smiled again, but it was sad and, frankly, it didn't make any sense to Brendon. Brendon hesitated to say something--Spencer was tense next to him, and Brendon was afraid to make the situation worse.

But all Ryan said was, "Excuse me for a moment." Then he turned around and left through the double-winged doors on the other side.

Brendon stared after him. It would have made sense for Ryan to be upset, angry even, but he'd been sad. It didn't make any sense. Apparently Brendon wasn't the only one who saw it that way.

"I have no idea what that was about," Spencer said.

Brendon swallowed. "If, if you want to go after him--" He sighed. "He'll probably tell you."

"I'm not so sure about that," Spencer said. He shook his head. "I thought he would be--well, not exactly delighted, but all right with it," he said. "We talked it even the night before they left for the harbour city, and I see no reason why--" He sighed.

"It's--I'll just wait here," Brendon said.

"Oh, I'm not going after him," Spencer said. "If he really wanted me to, he'd make a loud, dramatic exit."

"I see," Brendon said. "My sister used to do the same thing."

"She stopped?"

Brendon laughed. "She didn't out-grow it," he said. "But everybody stopped pandering to her fits."

"Well, let's see how long Ryan will take to re-emerge."

They didn't see Ryan again until lunch. He was perfectly civil, but distant. It was a small reprieve, as Brendon had half-expected a return of the side blows and cutting comments

"Have you decided when to move the music room?" Ryan asked.

Brendon startled and almost dropped his cutlery. "No," he said. "After all, you just made the offer this morning."

"There's no time to be wasted," Ryan said.

Brendon felt a bit befuddled as he ordered Johnson to find him some men to move the piano. Ryan was nice to Brendon, but was sad about Spencer being with Brendon. He didn't seem jealous, though. Something didn't add up, and Brendon couldn't find a plausible explanation. If Ryan didn't want Spencer just for himself, why would he be sad?

He glared at the men carrying his piano. He could hardly watch them heave it around, as every time they bumped against something and the strings inside the piano twanged, Brendon felt like they were throwing him around.

Spencer only laughed a little as he sent Brendon into the sitting room. "You still have to answer your mother's letter," Spencer said. "I'll take care of this."

Brendon bravely resisted to stick his tongue out at Spencer. It was a reasonable suggestion, but Brendon didn't like being sent away like a child.

On the other hand, he could search for the address of the piano tuner. After the treatment his beloved instrument was being subjected to right now, Brendon suspected he would have to send for the piano tuner right away again.

"The deed is done," Spencer announced gravely a short while later. "Would you like to try it out?"

"Of course!" Brendon pushed his half-finished letter to the side and hurriedly put the stopper back on the ink.

"Your mother will be sad if you let your letter lie around for too long," Spencer said.

"Then she shouldn't have sent me so far away," Brendon said. "Should we call for Ryan?"

"He is asleep," Spencer said. At Brendon's face, he chuckled. "No, we didn't," he said. "But this trip--I think something happened and it has left him in quite a state."

"He hasn't told you yet?"

"No," Spencer said. "Which--usually he's not very secretive around me. It might not even be anything bad. Maybe he just hated the harbour, although he's fond of pronouncing his love for the sea. We will have to wait and see."

"I feel like all I'm ever doing is waiting," Brendon said.

"You could pass the time by playing me your latest masterpiece," Spencer said.

"It's not even completely finished by now."

"Only a matter of time, I suppose." Spencer reached for Brendon's hand. "You are bad at deciding when you're done. You seem to always want to work on it a bit more, make it a bit more intricate, a tiny tad more elegant."

Brendon laughed and took Spencer's hand. "Well, it should be perfect," he said, as he let Spencer lead him down the hallway. Secretly, he was very pleased that he didn't have to wander through the entire house anymore to play.

Spencer sat down in a chair at the wall. "And now we even have sitting arrangements for your audience. No more leaning on the piano."

"I'm going to miss it," Brendon said. "It added a certain colour to playing."

"We could, of course, get some saloon doors and pretend we're in a seedy part of the new world," Spencer said.

Brendon smiled and started to play. He lost himself in the music--he wished he could have had the chance to meet Margaret Ross, as her composition was emotional and yet so compelling and elegant that Brendon was in awe of her. His own additions were just fancywork, but the solid groundwork was all hers.

As usual, Brendon didn't notice time passing as he played. Every now and then he glanced at Spencer, who was listening intently, but he closed his eyes for the crescendo and didn't open them again. When someone touched his shoulder, he jerked and almost stopped playing.

"No, please keep going," Ryan said, his voice sleep-rough.

Brendon nodded. He closed his eyes again and put all his concentration and focus into playing, hitting the notes just right and then ... he was done.

"I remember Maggie working on that," Ryan said. "It was--she called it her final and best piece."

"She must have been an amazing woman," Brendon said. "It is one of the best pieces I've ever had the fortune to play."

"She would have been delighted to hear you say that," Ryan said. He squeezed Brendon's shoulder lightly and Brendon leaned into the touch. It was as much as he had ever gotten from Ryan, but the way Ryan switched between being sweet and requiting in one moment and distant in the next gave Brendon a headache.

Brendon didn't know what to expect from supper, but he didn't hope for much. It turned out it had been a sensible choice to do so, as Ryan's father finally left his room.

"What was all that rumpus about earlier?" George asked. He was decidedly grumpy and Brendon took care not to sit next to him.

"We moved the piano, Father," Ryan said. "Brendon plays and we thought it appropriate to move it to a room more easily accessible."

George sighed. "I don't know what you find in that old thing," he said. "Only a lot of noise and not much sense in playing music."

Brendon bit his tongue. His mother had always stressed the importance of musical teaching as a vital part of one's learning, necessary to become a cultivated person. The way George Ross brushed it off as inconsequential disturbed him. He couldn't help but wonder how Maggie had fared with this man as her husband. But then he remembered Mrs Tilsen, who'd loved being in the choir--until her wife had died and she'd stopped singing. People did strange things out of grief.

"More wine, Johnson," George said. "And now let's talk about the business."

Ryan tensed almost imperceptibly, and Brendon looked at George, his wine glass and the bottle. Oh, he thought. What if...

Spencer immediately launched into a retelling of the week's events, but Brendon wasn't listening. Instead he looked at Ryan. The more lively George Ross became (directly related to how much wine he'd consumed), the quieter and more withdrawn Ryan became, and Brendon could feel anxiety pool in his stomach.

They had been visiting the club quite often lately, Brendon recalled.

"And we have put the ballroom back into order," Spencer finished. "Soon the house will be practically new."

"We thought maybe we could host a ball in the fall," Ryan said. He spoke slowly and disaffectedly, as if he didn't care. It was so different from this reaction this morning that Brendon almost didn't recognise him.

"Why would you want one?" George Ross said, sounding bored.

Ryan immediately hunched over his plate, but Spencer chimed in. "We haven't introduced Brendon properly. We've had hardly any callers at the house, and most of our invitations are followed up on by you, Father, or by Ryan."

"I don't see any sense in wasting money on something as frivolous as a ball," George Ross said flatly. "And why would you even want to introduce him into society? It'd only be embarrassing."

Brendon took a startled breath. Spencer looked as aghast as Brendon felt, but then he frowned. "Well, we don't think it's a waste of money," he said. "A ball would fill this house with life again, and we are planning on going through."

George snorted. "But what if I don't give you my approval?"

"Seeing how you moved out," Spencer said saccharine, "and that we are commanding over our own bank account, I don't think we need it."

Brendon looked at Ryan, waiting for his reaction, but Ryan had his eyes closed.

"Oh," George laughed. "I think you do."

"Then please explain why--" Spencer was interrupted by Johnson knocking on the door.

"Your carriage has arrived, sir," he said.

"Ah, I have an engagement at the club. I'll see you in the office tomorrow," George Ross said. He didn't even seem to notice that neither of the three were replying properly.

"Ryan," Spencer said slowly, after George had left, "what is going on?"

"Nothing," Ryan said. "He's just--he's busy. He's right, a ball is--it's a waste of money."

"Ryan," Spencer said, but without his usual sharpness. He was pleading, Brendon realised.

"No, no, it's all right," Ryan said and he smiled. It didn't reach his eyes, though, and the corners of his mouth were shaking, as if he could only hold them up this high with much effort. Brendon felt incredibly sorry for him that moment.

"Ryan," Brendon said as softly and gently as he could. "We worry."

"There's nothing to worry about," Ryan said. He got up. "I'll--I'll go to bed. I'm tired."

"You napped this afternoon." Spencer reached for Ryan. "Ryan, please, what is going on?"

"I told you, nothing," Ryan said sharply--but it was desperate rather than truly angry. "I'm tired, it was a difficult week, good night."

"Well," Spencer said. "At least one thing of that is true."

"He's drinking, isn't he?" Brendon asked.

Ryan's smile cracked and Spencer startled badly.

"I wish to not be disturbed tonight," Ryan said.

"Ryan!" Spencer got up, too, but Ryan turned around.

At the door he looked back at them and motioned to Brendon. "It is up to you, tonight, I mean." Then he left.

Brendon turned to Spencer. "What is going on? Did he just tell you to spend the night with me?"

"I hope you're wrong," Spencer whispered.

"That sounded a lot like he was telling that it was your decision where you slept tonight," Brendon said. "It wasn't very difficult to understand."

Spencer shook his head. "No--the other thing."

Brendon was quiet and looked at Spencer. Spencer wouldn't look at him. "Spencer, what is going on?"

"I don't know." Spencer sighed. "But I will try to find out tomorrow."

Brendon took a deep breath. "Should we take an early night, too?" He didn't feel up to play more music--the dinner had left him feeling cold and uncomfortable.

"No," Spencer said firmly. "You need to finish your letter or you'll let it lie for another week and your mother will be mad because you always reply to Kara's letter the same day."

"Kara is my sister," Brendon said. "She writes much nicer letters."

Spencer snorted. "You mean that she writes about all the gossip in your town."

"That is nice of her."

Spencer chuckled. "I wonder whether the priest thinks the same way of it."

Brendon put out his tongue and Spencer laughed, but he fell quiet quickly again. "Letters now, and then bed," Brendon said.

"And tomorrow I'll try to get Ryan to talk to me," Spencer said. For maybe the first time, he didn't seem too certain that he was going to succeed.

"He'll tell you," Brendon said. "You said yourself maybe it's nothing. Maybe he just needs time."

"I sure hope so." Spencer sighed and rubbed his eyes.

Brendon took Spencer's hand. "Let's go to bed now," he said. "The letter can wait until tomorrow." And I'd rather spend time with you, Brendon didn't say out loud. He had the ominous feeling that he wouldn't see as much of Spencer anymore, not until things with Ryan were resolved. In that case, Brendon wanted to get as much of Spencer as possible. It was selfish, he knew, but when Spencer smiled at him, his heart gave a happy jump.

That night Brendon used all he'd learned about Spencer's body so far to relax him. Spencer carried his tension in his shoulders and Brendon had figured out where to press to release it. It made Spencer mellow, and afterwards they kissed until they couldn't breathe.

"Let me," Spencer whispered. Brendon thought he knew what to expect when Spencer slid down underneath the sheets, but when Spencer licked over the head of his cock, Brendon gasped loudly.

"Good?" Spencer asked.

"Spencer," Brendon said sternly. "Don't stop."

Spencer laughed. "Let me hear you," he said and then he sucked in the head of Brendon's cock with further ado.

"God," Brendon moaned.

Spencer took in more of his cock, bobbing his head slowly. It felt amazing and Brendon fisted his hands in Spencer's hair.

"Faster." Brendon tugged at Spencer's hair. "Come on."

Spencer pulled off.

"No, no, that's not good," Brendon whimpered and he pushed at Spencer's head.

Spencer laughed. "I will teach you patience yet," he said. He did ... something Brendon couldn't see, but then he--blessed be his soul--put his mouth back on Brendon's cock.

Brendon first sighed relieved and then groaned, when Spencer wrapped his spit-slick hand around the base of his cock. Spencer worked his hand in time with his mouth and it created the most wonderful sensations.

Brendon let his legs splay open. When Spencer pushed at his knee, Brendon pulled his knees up, setting his feet on the mattress. It allowed him to push up properly, but then Spencer pulled his hand away from Brendon's cock and put it on Brendon's hip, pressing him down against the mattress.

Brendon whined, bucking his hips. He wanted more. But then Spencer let his other hand trail down, between Brendon's legs, further down until he reached Brendon's ass.

Spencer pulled off long enough to say, "Relax." His voice sounded rough and sent shivers over Brendon's skin.

When Spencer rubbed his finger over Brendon's entrance, Brendon understood what he was doing.

"God, Spencer," he moaned, but then Spencer pushed his finger in and--it didn't hurt, it was a bit uncomfortable, but it also seemed like a promise--of more, and Brendon tentatively pushed down.

Spencer was sucking hard on the head of Brendon's cock, tonguing the slit, and he pushed his finger completely into Brendon. Brendon was vividly aware of that finger, and he could feel Spencer crooking it slightly--it was a weird sensation and then--

"Spencer!" Brendon shouted and came inside Spencer's mouth. It felt like his insides had turned liquid and he sprawled bonelessly.

Spencer was grinning broadly when he came up to kiss Brendon. Brendon hummed against his mouth and wrapped his arm around Spencer, holding him close.

"C'mere," he said and reached down to fist Spencer's cock. "You are amazing."

"Only when I have the chance to be," Spencer said. He was thrusting into Brendon's fist. Brendon wished he had more to offer Spencer, but he felt like he couldn't move his legs at all.

Spencer gasped and came all over Brendon's belly. Brendon swiped some up on his fingers and licked them clean, humming around his fingers.

Spencer groaned. "I think you're really the amazing one," he said.

"Can we be both amazing?" Brendon could feel his eyes closing. "That'd be great."

"That can be arranged," Spencer said.

Brendon spent the rest of the night wrapped tightly around Spencer.

~~~***~~~

The next evening was a disappointment, though. Ryan and Spencer had come home late from the office and immediately disappeared into Ryan's rooms.

Brendon hoped this meant that Ryan actually did talk to Spencer and that they weren't occupied otherwise. He spent the evening playing the piano to occupy his mind. The music soothed his nerves while he waited. He wondered whether Spencer would even leave Ryan's rooms tonight or if he would spend the night. Brendon thought if he had to wait one more night, he was going to explode.

Once he had started thinking about Spencer and Ryan, he couldn't stop, though. He remembered catching them in the act--the way Ryan had laughed and how they'd seemed happy.

Brendon closed his eyes, letting muscle memory carry his fingers over the keys. He imagined them, lying in bed together--waiting for Brendon. Maybe they'd started early, to take the edge off, to have more time for Brendon. They would lie there, stretched out, naked, on display for him and--

Brendon missed a key and winced. The thought made him blush, the frivolity that lay underneath. Spencer had this--he had a certain type of sensuality that made Brendon want to get lost in him, in his touch, in his body. Spencer had just laughed when Brendon had told him. "Live a little," Spencer had said. "Enjoy yourself."

Yes, Brendon thought, being with them both would be about them enjoying Brendon--he longed to feel their hands on him, stroking and teasing and patting. He wanted to feel them against his skin, pressed tight against him, enveloping him.

But it wasn't time yet. No matter what Brendon wanted, it was Ryan's decision how close he allowed Brendon to be and--it hurt. Being kept at a distance hurt, being powerless to change it hurt, especially since it was all his own damn fault. Oh, if he hadn't run away that first night, if he hadn't been so incredibly stupid...

Brendon smashed the keys in a fit of anger, mad at himself. At least the piano didn't judge Brendon.

"I doubt that's how the composer wrote it," Spencer said from behind Brendon.

Brendon turned around on his piano bench, so fast he almost fell off. "What are you doing here?"

"Good evening to you, too," Spencer said and he leaned down, smiling, to kiss Brendon.

Brendon put his arm around Spencer's neck and let Spencer pull him onto his feet. "Good evening," he breathed when they broke for air. "I thought you'd stay with Ryan."

"He's asleep," Spencer said. "And I missed you."

Brendon hid his face against Spencer's neck, grinning. "You're not satisfied yet, admit it," he said, mostly to lighten the mood. Spencer looked tired and worn, and Brendon hated to see him like this. "You've grown too accustomed to my bedroom skills."

Spencer laughed. "Maybe I have," he said.

"Liar." Brendon leaned up for another kiss. Spencer put his hands on Brendon's arms, holding him tightly enough to hurt.

Brendon embraced Spencer, splaying his hands against his back to have better leverage. "Spencer," he whispered.

Spencer shook his head and kissed Brendon. He slid one hand into Brendon's hair and it was--Brendon felt surrounded, besieged, and he let Spencer take over.

Spencer kissed like he was a starving man and Brendon the first food he'd found in weeks. He was trembling slightly and Brendon pressed closely, afraid if he let go of Spencer he'd fall apart.

Brendon fisted Spencer's shirt and just held on. They kissed until their lips were swollen and they were breathing fast.

Only then Spencer let up. He sighed and put his forehead against Brendon's.

"Is everything all right?" Brendon slid his hand up until he could stroke the side of Spencer's throat with his fingertips.

"He still won't talk to me," Spencer whispered. "He keeps trying to tell me it's nothing important and I shouldn't worry."

"But we know that we should," Brendon said.

"I know." Spencer sighed and then kissed Brendon's forehead. "I don't--I still hope it's something simple."

Brendon hummed quietly. "Do you think we should ask George? Maybe he'll answer more readily."

Spencer sighed and buried his face in Brendon's neck.

"Spencer?" Brendon whispered.

"If it's what we fear, then no, George won't answer. If it's really George who's the problem..."

"Tell me," Brendon said. "You know something and you're not telling me."

Spencer said quietly, "After Maggie died, he became almost insane with grief and he turned to drink as comfort."

"Oh." Brendon had only met few drunkards--mostly poor people, men who'd lost their home and livelihood. They'd never stayed long in their town and Brendon had always felt pity for them. "Do you think he might have started again?"

Spencer shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," he said. "There's--it's not very uncommon here to drink to excess. You might even say that some people consider it a sign of their success--that they can afford to spend an entire day in bed, nursing their sick stomachs and headaches."

"But George is at the club so often," Brendon said.

"He's also handing over things to Ryan--slowly, but he has this fixed idea that Ryan needs to meet everyone."

"So we don't know," Brendon said. "And Ryan is worried about his father."

Spencer sighed again softly. "You have to know that George Ross is a great businessman," he said, "with a sharp mind and a cool wit, but he's a horribly mean and aggressive drunk."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand." Brendon frowned. "What do you mean that he's--oh."

"It was a bad time for Ryan," Spencer whispered. "Things were different then, but--I'm afraid that now it's starting up again."

"But now he has us," Brendon said.

He managed to make Spencer laugh. "Yes, now he has us," Spencer said. He turned sombre quickly again. "Please take care when you talk to George," he said. "I don't--the thought of seeing you hurt makes me feel physically sick."

"I will take care," Brendon promised.

Spencer smiled and kissed Brendon, so gentle Brendon's heart ached for him. "Play me some music," Spencer said. "I love to hear you play."

"Spencer--"

"Please," Spencer said. "Play me a happy song?"

Brendon left it at that. He didn't want to push any further--Spencer seemed fragile tonight and Brendon wanted to soothe his hurt, not add to it. So he sat down and played the first song that came to mind, then another one, and one more and still one more, until Spencer kissed his cheek and took him back to bed.

This night, neither of them felt like doing anything, their thoughts and worries weighing them down, so Brendon just curled up in Spencer's arms and hoped that they were wrong.

Part Six