twentysomething

Title: Oh Bury Me In Your Quiet Love

Fandom: Bandom, P!ATD

Pairing: Brendon/Spencer, Dallon/Breezy, Pete/Patrick, Jon/Ryan

Summary: "Two days of extremely unsuccessful interviews later, Spencer's ready to call it quits, but the next day, Ian comes in. They can see his Star Wars shirt through his button down and they hire him immediately."

Length: 4000 wordsish WHY

Warnings: RAINBOW TRANSFORMER LEVELS OF SUNSHINE SPARKLE MOTION GAYNESS.

Notes: So I started joking around with merelyn about a sequel to the Coffee Shop AU and then I realized I'd written it. And it was about twice as long as the original and I was like FUCK MY ENTIRE LIFE NOTHING EVEN HAPPENS. But if you- like us- like stupid domestic shenanigans and saccharine homosexual cooking romance, enjoy.




Brendon sighs, dreamily.

Spencer studiously stares straight ahead at the books.

"Spencer, my darling," Brendon coos, leading, and Spencer is certain he's not prepared for whatever is about to come out of Brendon's mouth.

"I think we need another child," Brendon says, all dewy-eyed earnestness and Spencer isn't sure whether Brendon means another dog or an actual baby. "We're making good money, and it'd be nice to have some time off."

Spencer frowns.

It takes him a moment.

"You want another Dallon?" Spencer finally tries, because otherwise PETA or child services are going to have words with them.

"Well, I don't think we'll find another Dallon, not without an extensive and time-consuming cloning process, but someone like Dallon, obviously." Brendon agrees, all mock-seriousness and Spencer wishes they had hatches to batten down.

Two days of extremely unsuccessful interviews later, Spencer's ready to call it quits, but the next day, Ian comes in. They can see his Star Wars shirt through his button down and they hire him immediately.

~~~

Ian is precious. Even Spencer, who's not prone to calling anything that's not baby animals "precious", thinks Ian is precious. (Even if he does throw off dumpster basketball, because they used to let Brendon ride on Spencer's shoulders- the only way to counterbalance Dallon's freakish height- but now they play two on two and elbow each other viciously over who gets the tall one.)

That being said, within about three days of his hire, there's a big, red sharpie sign in the kitchen that says "Never leave Ian and an oven unattended!"

Spencer's thinking about amending it to "even if the oven isn't on." He likes his coffee shop. He doesn't want it to catch on fire.


~~~

They keep a lost and found box behind the counter, which has seasonal accumulations: that first winter, they have a graveyard of unmatched gloves, ugly knit caps that Brendon borrows from with tragic, tragic impunity- and when spring and summer roll around, there's a who's-hip of knockoff Wayfarers and aviators. Back in the kitchen, though, there's a Ryan box.

In the Ryan Box:
- Two (2) Moleskines
- Three (3) pairs of hideous, giant sunglasses
- Four (4) scarves (majority paisley)
- and One (1) purple glitter pen

Ryan insists the glittery pen isn't his- which a) they found it at his usual table under a napkin with "went out to a graveyard to bum a couple of flowers/to give to you when I got back to Cape Town" and b) Ryan is a lying liar.

The second time Ryan tells them it's not his glittery purple pen, Brendon just shrugs and says, "Okay man, if it's not yours, then, imma take it."

The next time he looks the pen is gone.

~~~

Jon Walker ambles into Coffeeshop on a Tuesday morning. He's apparently a photojournalist for the Voice and he's doing a series on "the best coffee you haven't drunk yet". It's starting to get nippy outside, but Jon is dressed like it's the height of summer, worn jeans and beaten up flip flops and they all instantly like him. It also doesn't hurt that he spends maybe three hours, drinking coffee and eating brownies, pronouncing theirs "holy shit, the best ever."

He comes back, less than a week later and brings his guitar and Bogie sleeps on his feet for an hour solid.

They're slipping into a lazy, profitable fall, wherein he and Brendon take Bogart to Washington Square on quiet afternoons while Dallon and Ian take care of the shop, and so they actually miss the first time Ryan meets Jon.

Ryan says he works as a shopper for Barney's, but Spencer wonders sometimes, because who would trust someone to dress them who looks like a cowboy and Jackie O had a baby. But it means Ryan has pretty flexible hours, and he tends to spend a lot of them at Coffeeshop, sitting in the bay window and writing terrible poetry. Jon has taken to bringing his camera and his macbook, editing photos and attempting to write in as many dick jokes as he can, right by the bar. But basically, it's just been a matter of time before they would inevitably meet.

Spencer just didn't think he'd come back from walking his dog to find his best friend curled into the window seat around Jon Walker.

They're "talking about composition", which is the biggest load of horsecrap, maybe ever, because Ryan is practically batting his eyelashes at Jon- who is rubbing his hand over his disheveled stoner hair- and oh god, it's love.

~~~

Dallon thinks it's adorable.

"See, now we don't have to hire any of the dirty hipsters who want to play, like, their mandolins in here," he says cheerfully, watching Ryan and Jon canoodle. "Coffee and a show!" Spencer rolls his eyes.

"If I wanted to exploit you guys, I'd have put Ian's number up on the menu for the high school girls who come in here, sighing about how he'll never love them." Spencer says, packing an espresso shot. Ian blinks.

"What?" he asks, and Spencer can't tell whether it's horror or interest.

"Exactly," Brendon chirps, patting Ian on the cheek. "But it is sweet." Spencer sighs.

Ryan smiles shyly at Jon and Brendon "eeps" and Dallon goes "aw, yeaaaah", low, slow, and creepy and Ian just looks at Spencer beseechingly.

"Jesus," Spencer mutters.

~~~

During the day they play standard coffeehouse fare, which is to say, "obscure" guitar covers of Beatles' songs (that Brendon and Dallon sing along to periodically, as the mood strikes them) and Seven Swans on repeat, too often. Spencer would prefer something a little less sleepytime tea, but it's a coffee shop. People are there to get coffee and sit with their laptops for hours, nursing a cold macchiato, not for good music.

That being said, when they close up and start cleaning for the night, it's usually old Peter Gabriel and sometimes Blink-182 songs that Spencer still knows all the words to.

So Spencer's not really sure why he comes back in from running some paper work to the bank to find Brendon and Ian flailing along to the Spice Girls.

He's not really proud that he knows it's "Who Do You Think You Are", either.

Brendon's doing some sort of weird shimmy disco bop in counterpoint to Ian's old school Chumawamba/Tubthumping, leg-flailing, mosh jump, and Spencer is still stupid in love with him, which is probably the most embarrassing part of the whole thing. They also apparently know all the words and Spencer wonders if he can record video on his phone. But Brendon sees him first, and, because he has no shame, disco-shimmy-bops to Spencer and lays a ridiculous, debutante-dip kiss on him.

"Spencer Smith, my love, my darling, come dance to the musical stylings of Baby, Ginger, Scary and Sporty with me," he wheedles, tucking the cold tip of his nose under Spencer's jaw.

"You forgot Posh, who does that, even," Spencer mutters, but he lets Brendon swing him into some bastardized version of a jive waltz, anyway.

Dallon pouts so hard the next morning that they danced without him that they play both Spice Girls cds that afternoon, because fuck it, it's their coffee shop.


~~~

They hit a bad cold snap the last week of October and while it means business is booming as people come in for a hot cup to clutch on their commute and to get out of the freezing wind for a moment, Spencer, Ian and Dallon all come down with the death flu at once.

The first day, Spencer tries to drag himself into work anyway, only to have Brendon send him back home immediately. Breezy actually calls Dallon out, because apparently his head is too far into the toilet to call on his own. Ian makes it another day before they get a text from his number that just says hey this iz cash ian is like dying sry Spencer's at wits end, because he can't get out of bed- physically cannot- but he can't leave Brendon at work by himself.

He's thinking that maybe if he sits behind the counter 80% of the time and wears one of those masks, he might be able to swing working for a couple of hours, but just when he's wondering if he has enough energy to shower _and_ go to work, his phone buzzes.

if u get out of bed ryan will kill u hes coming ovr now Jon is the only man he can still take seriously even when he uses "u" instead of "you".

True to his word, Ryan shows up no more than ten minutes later- although, Spencer's grip on time isn't that great since he found an Antiques Roadshow marathon. It's all blurring together.

"Seriously, lay down," Ryan says, throwing away disgusting tissues and putting the kettle on. "Jon went to the shop, he's helping Brendon. They both have like, superhuman immune systems. It'll be fine."

Spencer rests for the first time in two days.

When he wakes up, Ryan is gone, but Brendon is sleeping next to him and Spencer sighs and goes back to bed. It's probably just body heat, but his bones feel less achy and his chest loosens.

He thinks about changing his mind the next night when Brendon presents him with a glass of something green and sludgy that had been very loud in the blender. Spencer hadn't even known he owned a blender.

"Bren," Spencer whines, because this is just unfair. When he and Ryan were kids in Vegas, they'd worked for a pool cleaning business for about three days. Spencer has cleaned pools that look like the inside of that glass.

"Drink it," Brendon says, characteristically stubborn. "It's mostly apple juice, anyway, you big drama queen."

It's actually really fucking delicious and just thick enough to soothe Spencer's throat from the constant coughing and throwing up and post-nasal drip.

"It still looks gross," Spencer mumbles, laying half-against the couch, half-against Brendon, sipping sullenly. Brendon laughs, quietly.

"Well, you look gross and I still love you anyway," Brendon says, complacent and tired, but still cheerful enough for the both of them.

"Yeah, you do," Spencer agrees, letting his eyes drift shut.

~~~

They're back at full staff within the week- although it probably felt longer because Spencer spent most of that week praying for death. They're all a lot more vigilant about taking vitamins for the rest of the flu outbreak. Spencer even lets Brendon use the blender at the shop- the one he begrudgingly uses to make frozen coffee drinks that he refuses to call any version of the word "frap"- to make his weird hell health smoothies, which are- predictably- a huge hit.

Through his body's utter refusal to ingest anything that wasn't liquid for a few days, Spencer feels oddly off balance and it's not until he accidentally hipchecks the counter and feels like he's been crippled that he realizes he lost weight.

"Jesus," Spencer mutters, rubbing his hip.

He feels pretty solid, though, about filching a croissant from the case. He mentions something offhand to Brendon, who just furrows his brows and apparently takes it as a personal affront, because he shows up at Spencer's apartment with the most fucking sinful mac n' cheese Spencer's ever tasted.

"The fuck did you put in here, Bden, crack?" Spencer moans around another bite. Brendon just smirks.

"It's called "butter" when you cook it," Brendon agrees and Spencer just sighs happily around another mouthful, because he seriously has the best boyfriend ever.

~~~

Which is something that comes to mind when he goes to meet with the building owner to do a standard rent renegotiation and he tells Spencer the apartment directly above the shop is going to be available in a month.

"It'd be a nice commute, eh?" Mr. Faziri says. "You think about it, with your nice young man. The one who gives me free coffee like it's a secret."

Spencer says they'll think about it.

He calls Ryan less than five minutes later.

"I'm thinking about asking Brendon to move in with me," he says immediately when the phone connects, before he can talk himself out of it. He hears a snort.

"Uh, you've reached Jon Walker, Ryan Ross isn't available to come to the phone right now," Jon drawls, clearly amused and probably fucking naked on the other end of the line.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Spencer mutters, hanging up on Jon.

By the time he gets back to the shop, Dallon is waggling his eyebrows at him and shooting him ridiculous fingerguns and Ian is already talking about how awesome it'd be to crash at Brendon and Spencer's when he's too drunk to get back to Brooklyn.

Brendon gets back from buying ridiculous and delicious things, complaining that they didn't have the honey he wanted, so he'd had to go to Tompkins Square, too, and now he's too tired to make the baklava, anyway and Spencer is so stupidly, wildly in love with him that he just blurts it out.

"So, the apartment above the shop is available and I'm going to take it and I want you to move in with me," Spencer says in one god-awful rush and Brendon takes two heart-stopping seconds to parse it, but he just grins so brightly Spencer can't really look at it and kisses him, Brendon's arms wrapping around him fiercely. Bogie is barking cheerfully over the only 2% sarcastic clapping and Spencer's never been happier.

~~~

Spencer lets Brendon paint the apartment something called "Robes for the Queen".

It's purple as hell and Spencer doesn't even care.

~~~

They have a dinner party to celebrate that they actually managed to get the dining room table up the stairs and through the door- Brendon cooks and Spencer buys an obscene amount of wine. Dallon brings Breezy and Ian brings one of his roommates named Alex, but Spencer's not sure which one- he thinks they're all pretty interchangeable. Ryan and Jon slink in just close enough to really late that Spencer is abstractly aware that they probably had a quickie immediately before coming over, but he refuses to deal with that train of thought, especially since Brendon also asked Pete and Patrick. Spencer really has nothing against Pete, but Pete is totally aware of the fact that Spencer's current state of fiscal and romantic success is almost entirely due to him- a little too aware.

"You can get like, a cookie, too," Spencer begrudgingly says, halfway through the meal and probably a solid bottle of wine. Pete grins.

"Spencer, Spencer," Pete croons. "At least a sandwich." Spencer gets the feeling that Pete is fucking with him for the sake of the thing, but Spencer has principles.

"Like, a cruller, okay," Spencer argues him down. Pete just laughs and says something about being stingy in the face of true love, but Spencer's not paying attention because the table is built for six, so he and Brendon are crammed along the short end and Brendon is lacing their fingers together.

The dinner is like one of those ones you see "hip young adults" having in movies- dim, soft focus lighting and ridiculous laughter, and no one caring about the red wine spilling all over the tablecloth. It ends probably too early for "hip young adults" but most of them have to get up early to open the shop, so it's maybe only 12:30 when Spencer and Brendon say "fuck it" and leave the dishes in the sink to deal with tomorrow and fool around, drunk and aimless before falling asleep, tangled up in each other.

~~~

The apartment is pretty much the greatest thing ever, because November is really fucking cold and Spencer and Brendon have to spend all of ten seconds outdoors to get from home to work. Even Bogie is getting into hibernation mode, almost refusing to go out for walkies. Brendon is sort of worried he's seasonally depressed but Spencer laughs at him for like, a whole minute, when he brings it up and Brendon just scowls and blushes wildly and Spencer has to kiss him stupid.

Well, the greatest, except for how their buzzer goes off at about 1:40 in the morning and Ian mumbles something unintelligible over the intercom.

"What." Spencer demands, throwing the deadbolt behind him. Ian does look fucking miserable and he has a backpack and a tiny duffel and his pillow and Spencer sighs.

"The couch pulls out," he offers and Ian just nods. Spencer heads to the linen closet and grabs the sheets and blankets and wonders when he became enough of a grownup to actually have sensible accommodations for guests.

"Sorry, Spence," Ian says quietly, picking at the hem of his shirt. "My roommates are kind of assholes." Spencer just ruffles Ian's hair, slowly.

"Anytime, you know that," Spencer reminds him, heading back to bed.

"Ian 'kay?" Brendon mutters into Spencer's collarbone.

"Yeah, everything's fine, go back to sleep." Spencer says, although he can hear the blankets restlessly rustling in the living room.

~~~

They've tried going on double dates with Jon and Ryan. Brendon had looked sad and pouty and so Spencer had made reservations for four at one of their favorite restaurants.

As soon as they order the appetizers, Ryan lowers his lashes and excuses himself to the bathroom. Less than 30 seconds later, Jon excuses himself, as well.

"Wow," Spencer says, staring at the empty seats across from them. "That was... incredibly obvious."

Brendon laughs nervously. "You know, the honeymoon stage." he suggests awkwardly.

"We're not going to be able to come back here anymore, are we," Spencer groans. Brendon smiles, apologetic.

"Yeah, probably not."

Jon and Ryan do it again before dessert.

~~~

"I mean, shouldn't they be over it by now?" Spencer calls, irritated, as he starts brushing his teeth. "They're like cats in heat." Brendon sighs.

"Right? I like to think we have a healthy sex life," Spencer hears the eyebrow waggle without seeing it. "But, like, is that how often humans are supposed to fuck? Because, babe, I love you and your body is a wonderland-" Spencer groans around his toothbrush.

"Really?" he demands, toothpaste foam dripping out of the corner of his mouth.

"But I just don't have the stamina. I mean, who does?" Brendon continues, blithely. Spencer spits and splashes some water over his mouth, absently wiping it with his wrist as he turns back toward the bedroom.

"Mmm," he says, thoughtfully, cocking a hip against the door frame. Ryan and Jon aren't sex gods, or anything. He and Brendon are totally into each other and have lots of sex. Probably better sex than Ryan and Jon's sex.

Spencer feels sort of... challenged.

Brendon grins.

~~~

"Okay, that is why we don't have sex all night," Brendon whines, face down on the counter. Spencer is sporting some serious under-eye bags, himself- he'd had to up himself to a quadruple shot. Brendon had actually had a cup of coffee, which was how Spencer knew he was hurting- he usually just drinks his foul peppermint shit with a terrible smile and a peck to Spencer's cheek as he defiles the act of the morning beverage.

"Stupid fucking shiftless hippies," Spencer mutters, as the giant clock on the left wall ticks quarter past 10. "I bet they're still asleep right now."

Brendon hisses in solidarity, echoing strangely off the marble.

"No more sex on days when we open," Brendon mutters. "Well, starting any later than 11 pm. Respectable working class people sex time."

Spencer snorts, but he nods solemnly for Brendon.

"We don't hold with none of this crazy-type, waking up at 4 am and fucking like animals just because," Brendon says strictly. Spencer bites the inside of his cheek.

"Of course not," he agrees. "Although. Tuesday." Brendon points a finger at him sternly, but deflates abruptly and then grins.

"Oh, yeah. Tuesday." Brendon says fondly, smugly.

"Okay, guys," Ian groans, strangled sounding.

"We're right here," Dallon sighs.

"And I heard Tuesday," Ian says, pointedly.

Spencer can feel his cheeks heat up beneath his beard but Brendon just laughs and laughs.

~~~

December 1st is the first snowfall of the year. Bogie whines and buries his face in his paws, under the blanket in the dog basket behind the counter, but Brendon's eyes light up and he drags Spencer outside, so they can catch pneumonia and kiss in the snow.

"Listen to how quiet it is," Brendon whispers between their mouths.

"It's New York City, it's never quiet," Spencer argues, but there is a strange sort of hush over things, the cars driving a little slower, the people tucking their coats closer around their knit scarves, but not walking any faster.

"Spencer Smith, I love you," Brendon murmurs, slipping his cold hand into Spencer's.

"Yeah, me too," Spencer whispers and the snowflakes catch and melt on Brendon's eyelashes.

~~~

Spencer tends to forget that he's surrounded by musicians until the holiday season. It's only when he notices there's an over-abundance of harmony in this non-denominational Ingrid Michaelson winterish song that he realizes Jon, Ryan, Brendon, Dallon and Ian are all singing or humming along.

"Jesus," Spencer mutters, like his fingers aren't tapping against the counter.

It's only made worse when Brendon sidles up to him, gingerbread bribe in hand.

"You know, we should all go caroling," Brendon suggests. Spencer rolls his eyes.

"Enjoy yourselves. I don't sing," he reminds Brendon. Brendon grins at him.

"You could play the hand bells."

Spencer glares and points at the gingerbread.

"Leave that and walk away from me, right now."

God, next Brendon would be talking about a tambourine.

~~~

They're having one of their impromptu and ridiculously cramped dinner parties- which, after some scurrilous Wiki-ing, they're arguably celebrating Mos Def's birthday- when Breezy declines a glass of wine.

"No can do," she says, grinning, and after a long moment, Brendon, who has a lot of older sisters, squeaks.

"No!" he says, and he looks demented he's smiling so wide. It takes Spencer half a second longer to get it.

"Yeah, some idiot in the room knocked me up," she agrees and Dallon is about to burst, but Pete just wraps an arm around Breezy.

"I'm going to marry her, it's the only responsible thing to do," Pete says, braying good-naturedly when Dallon knocks him off to hug her.

"You should be so lucky, Wentz," Dallon tells him, mostly teasing, but probably also at least a little seriously, because Dallon is stupid in love with his wife. Brendon brings her a glass of apple juice and they all toast, again and again to Mystery Weekes, Everyone- other than Breezy, obviously- gets more than a little tipsy and it's not until after Ian is put to bed on the sofa that Spencer lets a still giggly Brendon push his face into Spencer's neck that Spencer really thinks about how wonderful it'll be, a little Dallon or a little Breezy, running around the shop.

He's feeling weirdly sentimental and it seems like the only thing to do is to lean into where Brendon's body is tangled up with his and whisper, "Hey, marry me."

Brendon whips his head up, nearly smacking Spencer in the jaw with it, and stares at him in the darkness of their bedroom.

"Yeah?" he asks, just a little wary and Spencer kisses him, because when he'd let himself sort of think this far ahead, he's usually planned it to a T and he's not a little tipsy on three-buck Chuck, but he means it.

"Yeah," Spencer says and he's never quite seen this smile before, but it's private and happy and Brendon whispers back, "Yes," and that's all that matters.