twentysomething

Fandom: Bandom

Pairing: intended Brendon/Spencer, past Spencer/Haley

Length: 850 wordsish.

Warnings: kidfic kidfic kidfic

Notes: Things I cannot resist: nanny aus. Things pretty much no one can resist: nanny aus. And now, I'm going to go back to using my xacto knife as a seam ripper.



Spencer doesn't want to hire a nanny.

In an ideal world, he would be able to be home, with Sloane, all day and he wouldn't even need a nanny, but alimony doesn't pay itself and someone has to pay the bills. And it's probably not his six year old daughter.

But his mother can't stay with them indefinitely and he likes his job- he doesn't want to have to find something stupid, even if it will allow him to work from home permanently, rather than once or twice every other week.

So Spencer looks for a nanny.

He finds Brendon.

Which is how Spencer finds himself coming home to giant pile of his blankets, his daughter, Jon Walker's cat and his nanny, fast asleep at 6 in the evening, all of them wearing princess crowns.

Even the cat.

He'd ask how these things happen- how Jon Walker's cat got into his apartment, how they got the crown on the cat, and maybe even why they're asleep, but he has the feeling he really doesn't want to know. He spends longer than he cares to admit staring at the picture and thinking that really, it's Cute Overload waiting to happen. But before he can get a camera, there's a knock at the door.

"Hi, I lent your not-boyfriend my cat earlier today?" Jon says, in that faintly bemused way he says almost everything, like life is continually surprising. Well, maybe if Spencer was as baked as Jon always seems to be, he'd be surprised, too.

"Brendon is my nanny," Spencer recites, knee-jerk, like someone asked him about his health- 'Fine, thanks.' He'd also had to get over himself, because saying "au pair" made him sound like a douche, and manny is probably technically demeaning. He supposes they could think up some term like "Family Assistant" or something, but Spencer thinks Brendon really likes being called the nanny.

Brendon also likes wearing princess tiaras and glittery rubberband bracelets, though, so Spencer doesn't really think that counts for much.

"You should probably just marry him. Civil unions are legal, man," Jon advertises, even as his cat- who has strategically lost its tiara between the cuddle puddle on the couch and the front door- comes to twine itself around his legs, this mysterious puff of too much fur that occasionally meows, so, logically, it must have a mouth.

"I'm not dating my nanny," Spencer says, still rote repeating his denial mantra.

"Our connection is too deep for that," Brendon yawns, creases pressed into his cheek, Sloane propped up on his hip, blowing sleepy kissy faces at Spencer. "Thanks for letting us borrow Boo-Boo." Jon just shakes his head.

"Stop emasculating my cat. Sir Stalks-a-lot has all his dude parts." Jon admonishes, but fondly. Spencer suspects that- like he does with everyone else- Brendon has wormed his way into Jon Walker's good graces.

"TMI," Spencer says, because thinking about cat balls is not how he really wants to spend his evening.

"Hi, daddy," Sloane says, clearly too tired to really even track the conversation. She stretches out her arms and Spencer lets her transfer from one host to the next, like a monkey, or an alien parasite. He remembers how Haley and he used to fumble, but Brendon is close and the whole maneuver is seamless.

There's a metaphor somewhere in there.

"Hi," Spencer says, letting Sloane's tumbled, golden-brown head slip onto his shoulder. "Did you wear Brendon out today?" Sloane nods slowly against Spencer's jacket.

"Yeah, the tea party was full of spies. Boo-Boo ate them, though." Sloane mumbles, and Spencer eyeballs the cat still winding its way between Jon's legs. Sure, why not.

"I don't want to interrupt this, because it's super precious, like, angels are getting diabetes," Jon pronounces it "die-a-beet-us". "But good night." Jon picks up Boo-Boo/Sir Stalks-a-lot/whatever, waves the cat's paw goodbye and heads back down the hall.

"That is a profoundly weird guy," Spencer muses, shifting Sloane higher on his hip. Brendon snorts.

"You don't even know," Brendon promises. "Hey, come inside, take a load off, Spencer Smith." Spencer wants to point out the ridiculousness of Brendon inviting him into his own apartment, but really, on average, Brendon is probably there more and has keys, so. Spencer slumps into the couch, tucking Sloane against his chest.

"So, spies," Spencer prompts. Brendon grins, and his eyebrows do this waggling thing, because he has an elastic face that Sloane fell in love with, and Spencer secretly kind of loves it too.

"They wanted to know Sloane's secret pineapple upside-down cake recipes. The traitors had to go." Brendon says with a shrug and Spencer shakes his head, but he's smiling.

"Enemies of the state," he mutters and Brendon beams at Spencer like he solved the energy crisis.

"Infidels," Brendon agrees. Spencer frowns.

"Does Sloane even have a pineapple upside-down cake recipe?" Spencer ponders aloud. Brendon shrugs.

"I think her version involves spiders. I would be hesitant to try it." Brendon advises and Spencer snorts. Yeah, his kid, the one that can't seem to remember that bugs aren't an FDA recognized food group.