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Fic: Write Out Loud
Write Out Loud
[Jon/Spencer, 1800 words, PG-13]
It went like this: Brendon's house was, for some reason, completely bereft of ballpoint pens, but he had a billion Sharpies, in all the various colors of the rainbow - a fact he prided himself on.
I've had a rough day, so, um. Have some ridiculous fic! Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine.
In hindsight, it could've been worse.
It wasn't anything that hadn't happened a million times in the past; something stupid done out of inebriated and/or stoned stupidity/affection that seemed like a really awesome idea at the time. Only this time, that something involved a Sharpie and Spencer's skin.
It went like this: Brendon's house was, for some reason, completely bereft of ballpoint pens, but he had a billion Sharpies, in all the various colors of the rainbow - a fact he prided himself on.
"But Sharpies are permanent," Spencer said with sigh, spinning a green marker in his hand like one of his sticks.
"Like pens aren't?" Brendon replied as he spread paper out over his nice new glass-topped coffee table. Lately when he got high Brendon loved to do portraits of everyone, mostly because it was "very John Lennon" and also, possibly, because once Pete had joked about turning Brendon's pictures into postage stamps if they got famous enough. There was a decent-sized stack of Sharpie portraits sitting on his kitchen counter, and his favorites were on the fridge.
On this night, Jon had insisted on having Brendon do his portrait over again since he'd shaved, and then out came the markers, the smell of permanent ink sifting through the air and mixing with the heavier scent of pot.
Brendon sat hunched over the coffee table, the tip of his tongue caught between his lips as he carefully drew the lines of Jon's face (the smoke from the joint sitting in the ashtray in front of him kept making him blink and scrinch his nose). Ryan sat on the couch behind him, chin propped in his hands as he leaned over Brendon's shoulder and watched, frowning a little whenever Brendon added a feature he didn't quite like.
"You're making his nose too big," he said, waving his hand vaguely at the paper.
"Permanent," Spencer said in a sing-song voice, which made Brendon huff and Jon grin from his spot on the other side of the table facing Brendon.
"My nose looks awesome, and it's in green." Jon touched his nose with his index finger and beamed at Spencer. "As a wise man once said, it's not easy being green."
Brendon looked up and pointed the green Sharpie at Jon. "Wise, wise words," he said, and went back to scribbling in the dark mess that was Jon's hair.
Eventually he finished, held it out to Jon with a flourish, and Ryan said, "Oooh, okay, do Spence in pink." Everyone in the room felt the need to laugh incessantly at this, much to Spencer's dismay. It really wasn't that funny, and he was high, for fuck's sake.
"No one's doing me in pink, what the hell." He leaned back on his elbows and glared at the room at large. "Don't you have plain black in there somewhere?"
Brendon pouted his lip out at him. "The world is not complete without your likeness being rendered in magenta, Spencer Smith." He suddenly brandished a dark pink Sharpie out of nowhere and pulled the cap off with his teeth. "Now hold still and look hot for me."
"I'm not - " But suddenly a pair of hands came up over his shoulders, holding him gently in place, and he had Jon's voice whispering softly in his ear, "C'mon, it's not like you don't practice your hot girl stance." He snorted against Spencer's cheek.
"Oh that's it, fuck you - "
Brendon whined when his portrait-making became sorely interrupted by Spencer tackling Jon to the carpet. (Ryan shook his head and took the marker out of Brendon's hand, along with the half-completed Spencer portrait. He sat back on the couch and started adding his own touches.)
"Wait, wait," Jon finally yelled, breathless, his hands braced against Spencer's chest. "Wait, I have an idea, one sec." He wiggled out from under Spencer and started digging around in the box of Sharpies, until he found what he was looking for. He hobbled back over on his knees and, grinning his happy stoner grin that never failed to make Spencer smile back in return like a dork, he grabbed Spencer's arm and turned it over.
He held up the marker. It was black.
"Although," Jon added, looking over his shoulder at Brendon. "I still really, really love you in pink."
Brendon nodded solemnly. Ryan just kept drawing, completely oblivious.
When Jon started writing on his skin, Spencer thought about objecting. Except...everything was upside down and he couldn't really see anything because Jon was leaning so close, close enough that Spencer could feel hot puffs of air over his wrist and down his inner arm. He tugged once, halfheartedly.
"Seriously, what - "
"'Mkay, done!" Jon sat back, capped the marker. He bit his lip around a smile. "Like it?"
Spencer blinked and looked down at his arm. Starting at his wrist and reaching almost to his elbow was...well, him. A full body portrait, complete with black shirt, shoes, and a pair of drumsticks in his back pocket (although they looked more like rabbit ears).
But the part that made him sort of hold his breath and blink several times were the words scribbled over cartoon!Spencer's head: ILU SJS V UR FLY. Next to the last word was what appeared to be a bumble bee buzzing around a heart with the initials JJW inside.
"That's, um. That's a bee, not a fly." He didn't look up at Jon, only rubbed his thumb over the words again and again, thinking permanent and trying not to giggle hysterically.
"It's so not, it's a fly!" Jon rolled his eyes and threw the Sharpie back into the box. "You don't appreciate good art."
"Fuck no, he doesn't," Ryan suddenly said. He flung his drawing onto the table, and it came skidding to a stop just before it slid off into Spencer's lap. "That's good art." It was very similar to Jon's skin rendering, only neater and in pink. And without the flies and declarations of love.
"Seriously," Spencer replied, flopping onto his back on the carpet. "You all need new hobbies." He was never getting high with his band again.
Granted, he thought this every time he smoked up with them, but this time he meant it.
~
Then came the following day, when Spencer and Jon were supposed to drop in to TRL and give a few anecdotes on the new album. It would be a pain in the ass at any normal time, but now Spencer had a giant Jon Walker portrait of love all down his right arm, and there was no way in hell he was letting the masses get a glimpse of it. Fuck, and Brendon thought he was the cause of rumors.
Jon hadn't said much about his drawing. In fact, they kind of hadn't said much of anything to each other all day, and Spencer started to think seriously about throwing out all the Sharpies in Brendon's house and replacing them with finger paints or something.
He paced the dressing room, tugging at the sleeves of his black henley and wishing they were a little longer; he could still see ILU SJS clearly over his wrist. Spencer winced and tugged harder.
"Hey." Jon startled him for a moment. He spun around, tried to smile. Jon was rubbing at his neck, looking embarrassed. "Hey, look, I've been watching you try to hide that for awhile now." He waved his hand at Spencer's arm. "And I'm sorry. I totally and completely blame Brendon." Jon laughed, but he was watching Spencer tentatively.
Spencer blushed and promptly stopped tugging in favor of folding his arms over his chest. "I'm not - " He sighed. "I just don't want to have to explain it, you know?"
Jon cocked his head to one side. "Why would you?"
"Just...someone's gonna ask, you know they will." He started to fidget, which meant he was pulling at his sleeves again, and that only made Jon's face drop a little more.
"Yeah, well...I'm still sorry. You can just tell them I have this ridiculous crush on you that causes me to doodle on you when stoned." The tops of Jon's cheeks went pink as he scrubbed a hand through his hair, causing the back part to stand up straight. "I'll deny everything, of course. It'll be great fun."
Spencer's heart started to pound harder than a second before, without warning, and just as he was about to say something (what, he had no idea, actually), they were given the five minute warning and ushered out of the dressing room and toward the main staging area.
For the first minute or so after they were introduced and the shrieks and applause died down, Spencer forgot about the doodles on his arm. His brain went into promotion mode, focused on nothing but the album and their sound and how much it meant to them as artists. He was so focused, he didn't think twice about reaching up with his right hand to brush the hair out of his eyes as he smiled at Jon, who was explaining the album's title for the millionth time.
The VJ, some chick Spencer had never seen or heard of, suddenly grinned and made a lunge for his wrist. "Aww, Spencer! Is this a picture of you?" she asked, pulling his sleeve up.
"Um." Spencer held the microphone away from his face as he glanced over his shoulder at Jon, whose eyes flared a bit. "Um, yeah, it is." He licked his lips, then decided what the hell. "Jon drew it last night."
She "awwed" some more, then the audience did as well, and Spencer absolutely did not look at Jon again, even as he felt his cheeks go hot.
"It's very good," she said to Jon. She laughed, gesturing to the ILU at Spencer's wrist. "I guess I can skip the question about whether or not you guys still get along, huh?"
And Jon, being Jon, replied, "Yeah, if I hated Spence I'd just draw him naked, maybe write dirty words on his forehead." He smiled sweetly at her, and the VJ laughed and twittered like a good host.
Spencer was still completely not looking at him, of course.
When he got back to the dressing rooms, Spencer already had a text waiting for him from Ryan.
jesus, could you be more fucking obvious? you two are sickening. also, no more sharpies for bden, y/y/mfy?
He wanted to die, but the urge to laugh was stronger. He was typing back a response when he heard Jon yell from the other side of the room, "Why is Brendon texting me about Ryan stealing his Sharpies?"
Spencer rolled his eyes and didn't answer, smiling stupidly at his phone. He almost went over and kissed him. Almost.
Instead, he saved it for the car on the way back to the hotel.
[Jon/Spencer, 1800 words, PG-13]
It went like this: Brendon's house was, for some reason, completely bereft of ballpoint pens, but he had a billion Sharpies, in all the various colors of the rainbow - a fact he prided himself on.
I've had a rough day, so, um. Have some ridiculous fic! Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine.
In hindsight, it could've been worse.
It wasn't anything that hadn't happened a million times in the past; something stupid done out of inebriated and/or stoned stupidity/affection that seemed like a really awesome idea at the time. Only this time, that something involved a Sharpie and Spencer's skin.
It went like this: Brendon's house was, for some reason, completely bereft of ballpoint pens, but he had a billion Sharpies, in all the various colors of the rainbow - a fact he prided himself on.
"But Sharpies are permanent," Spencer said with sigh, spinning a green marker in his hand like one of his sticks.
"Like pens aren't?" Brendon replied as he spread paper out over his nice new glass-topped coffee table. Lately when he got high Brendon loved to do portraits of everyone, mostly because it was "very John Lennon" and also, possibly, because once Pete had joked about turning Brendon's pictures into postage stamps if they got famous enough. There was a decent-sized stack of Sharpie portraits sitting on his kitchen counter, and his favorites were on the fridge.
On this night, Jon had insisted on having Brendon do his portrait over again since he'd shaved, and then out came the markers, the smell of permanent ink sifting through the air and mixing with the heavier scent of pot.
Brendon sat hunched over the coffee table, the tip of his tongue caught between his lips as he carefully drew the lines of Jon's face (the smoke from the joint sitting in the ashtray in front of him kept making him blink and scrinch his nose). Ryan sat on the couch behind him, chin propped in his hands as he leaned over Brendon's shoulder and watched, frowning a little whenever Brendon added a feature he didn't quite like.
"You're making his nose too big," he said, waving his hand vaguely at the paper.
"Permanent," Spencer said in a sing-song voice, which made Brendon huff and Jon grin from his spot on the other side of the table facing Brendon.
"My nose looks awesome, and it's in green." Jon touched his nose with his index finger and beamed at Spencer. "As a wise man once said, it's not easy being green."
Brendon looked up and pointed the green Sharpie at Jon. "Wise, wise words," he said, and went back to scribbling in the dark mess that was Jon's hair.
Eventually he finished, held it out to Jon with a flourish, and Ryan said, "Oooh, okay, do Spence in pink." Everyone in the room felt the need to laugh incessantly at this, much to Spencer's dismay. It really wasn't that funny, and he was high, for fuck's sake.
"No one's doing me in pink, what the hell." He leaned back on his elbows and glared at the room at large. "Don't you have plain black in there somewhere?"
Brendon pouted his lip out at him. "The world is not complete without your likeness being rendered in magenta, Spencer Smith." He suddenly brandished a dark pink Sharpie out of nowhere and pulled the cap off with his teeth. "Now hold still and look hot for me."
"I'm not - " But suddenly a pair of hands came up over his shoulders, holding him gently in place, and he had Jon's voice whispering softly in his ear, "C'mon, it's not like you don't practice your hot girl stance." He snorted against Spencer's cheek.
"Oh that's it, fuck you - "
Brendon whined when his portrait-making became sorely interrupted by Spencer tackling Jon to the carpet. (Ryan shook his head and took the marker out of Brendon's hand, along with the half-completed Spencer portrait. He sat back on the couch and started adding his own touches.)
"Wait, wait," Jon finally yelled, breathless, his hands braced against Spencer's chest. "Wait, I have an idea, one sec." He wiggled out from under Spencer and started digging around in the box of Sharpies, until he found what he was looking for. He hobbled back over on his knees and, grinning his happy stoner grin that never failed to make Spencer smile back in return like a dork, he grabbed Spencer's arm and turned it over.
He held up the marker. It was black.
"Although," Jon added, looking over his shoulder at Brendon. "I still really, really love you in pink."
Brendon nodded solemnly. Ryan just kept drawing, completely oblivious.
When Jon started writing on his skin, Spencer thought about objecting. Except...everything was upside down and he couldn't really see anything because Jon was leaning so close, close enough that Spencer could feel hot puffs of air over his wrist and down his inner arm. He tugged once, halfheartedly.
"Seriously, what - "
"'Mkay, done!" Jon sat back, capped the marker. He bit his lip around a smile. "Like it?"
Spencer blinked and looked down at his arm. Starting at his wrist and reaching almost to his elbow was...well, him. A full body portrait, complete with black shirt, shoes, and a pair of drumsticks in his back pocket (although they looked more like rabbit ears).
But the part that made him sort of hold his breath and blink several times were the words scribbled over cartoon!Spencer's head: ILU SJS V UR FLY. Next to the last word was what appeared to be a bumble bee buzzing around a heart with the initials JJW inside.
"That's, um. That's a bee, not a fly." He didn't look up at Jon, only rubbed his thumb over the words again and again, thinking permanent and trying not to giggle hysterically.
"It's so not, it's a fly!" Jon rolled his eyes and threw the Sharpie back into the box. "You don't appreciate good art."
"Fuck no, he doesn't," Ryan suddenly said. He flung his drawing onto the table, and it came skidding to a stop just before it slid off into Spencer's lap. "That's good art." It was very similar to Jon's skin rendering, only neater and in pink. And without the flies and declarations of love.
"Seriously," Spencer replied, flopping onto his back on the carpet. "You all need new hobbies." He was never getting high with his band again.
Granted, he thought this every time he smoked up with them, but this time he meant it.
~
Then came the following day, when Spencer and Jon were supposed to drop in to TRL and give a few anecdotes on the new album. It would be a pain in the ass at any normal time, but now Spencer had a giant Jon Walker portrait of love all down his right arm, and there was no way in hell he was letting the masses get a glimpse of it. Fuck, and Brendon thought he was the cause of rumors.
Jon hadn't said much about his drawing. In fact, they kind of hadn't said much of anything to each other all day, and Spencer started to think seriously about throwing out all the Sharpies in Brendon's house and replacing them with finger paints or something.
He paced the dressing room, tugging at the sleeves of his black henley and wishing they were a little longer; he could still see ILU SJS clearly over his wrist. Spencer winced and tugged harder.
"Hey." Jon startled him for a moment. He spun around, tried to smile. Jon was rubbing at his neck, looking embarrassed. "Hey, look, I've been watching you try to hide that for awhile now." He waved his hand at Spencer's arm. "And I'm sorry. I totally and completely blame Brendon." Jon laughed, but he was watching Spencer tentatively.
Spencer blushed and promptly stopped tugging in favor of folding his arms over his chest. "I'm not - " He sighed. "I just don't want to have to explain it, you know?"
Jon cocked his head to one side. "Why would you?"
"Just...someone's gonna ask, you know they will." He started to fidget, which meant he was pulling at his sleeves again, and that only made Jon's face drop a little more.
"Yeah, well...I'm still sorry. You can just tell them I have this ridiculous crush on you that causes me to doodle on you when stoned." The tops of Jon's cheeks went pink as he scrubbed a hand through his hair, causing the back part to stand up straight. "I'll deny everything, of course. It'll be great fun."
Spencer's heart started to pound harder than a second before, without warning, and just as he was about to say something (what, he had no idea, actually), they were given the five minute warning and ushered out of the dressing room and toward the main staging area.
For the first minute or so after they were introduced and the shrieks and applause died down, Spencer forgot about the doodles on his arm. His brain went into promotion mode, focused on nothing but the album and their sound and how much it meant to them as artists. He was so focused, he didn't think twice about reaching up with his right hand to brush the hair out of his eyes as he smiled at Jon, who was explaining the album's title for the millionth time.
The VJ, some chick Spencer had never seen or heard of, suddenly grinned and made a lunge for his wrist. "Aww, Spencer! Is this a picture of you?" she asked, pulling his sleeve up.
"Um." Spencer held the microphone away from his face as he glanced over his shoulder at Jon, whose eyes flared a bit. "Um, yeah, it is." He licked his lips, then decided what the hell. "Jon drew it last night."
She "awwed" some more, then the audience did as well, and Spencer absolutely did not look at Jon again, even as he felt his cheeks go hot.
"It's very good," she said to Jon. She laughed, gesturing to the ILU at Spencer's wrist. "I guess I can skip the question about whether or not you guys still get along, huh?"
And Jon, being Jon, replied, "Yeah, if I hated Spence I'd just draw him naked, maybe write dirty words on his forehead." He smiled sweetly at her, and the VJ laughed and twittered like a good host.
Spencer was still completely not looking at him, of course.
When he got back to the dressing rooms, Spencer already had a text waiting for him from Ryan.
jesus, could you be more fucking obvious? you two are sickening. also, no more sharpies for bden, y/y/mfy?
He wanted to die, but the urge to laugh was stronger. He was typing back a response when he heard Jon yell from the other side of the room, "Why is Brendon texting me about Ryan stealing his Sharpies?"
Spencer rolled his eyes and didn't answer, smiling stupidly at his phone. He almost went over and kissed him. Almost.
Instead, he saved it for the car on the way back to the hotel.