Chapter Twenty-One: Interlude Middle

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Spencer stared at the bottle. Aaron stared at Chloe.

As one, they all three looked at the closet.

"This is a bad—" Chloe began, with a nervous glance at Aaron.

"I don't really think—" Aaron said, standing just in case and finding that the floor wasn't really flooring anymore.

Spencer was silent.

"Rules of the game, come on," Eric complained, sprawled back against Hannah with his arm around her. "In you go, you two. Seven minutes. No outs."

Spencer swallowed, and stood, looking very much like a man walking to his execution. Aaron looked from his friend to the horrified kind of flush on Chloe's face, something dark and worried worming its way to tighten around his chest. He grabbed Spencer's hand, kicked the bottle in his stumbling lunge forward, and stepped in front of his friend.

"Look, if he's not comfortable with it, it's stupid to push," he snapped, angry and with no real reason why. It wasn't like anything would happen anyway. Eric always did this, came up with stupid childish games to fuck with them. Last time, Aaron had spent an awkward fourteen minutes explaining the plot of The Matrix to Rebecca when they'd both gotten shoved in there. And Chloe was as sensible as they came. "Leave it, Eric."

"Someone's gotta go in there." Eric was resolute. And Spencer was still silent. His head down, eyes locked on the carpet, hair covering his expression.

"Fine," Aaron said, wiping his mouth and squaring his shoulders, striding forward. Goddamnit. The closet was full of crap, unpacked moving boxes, sports gear, Sean's shoes. It was going to be uncomfortable. You owe me, he thought crankily, stepping in there and turning, throwing his arms outward with a hrumph of irritation. "I'm in. I'll take his place—"

There was a squeal, a whoop, and Aaron blinked just in time to see Spencer hurtling into him as Eric boldly scooped the younger boy up and tossed him in. Whump, and they went down in a flurry of limbs and yelps, Aaron falling back against a box and feeling something crack inside, Spencer flopping heavily on top, wheezing at the impact.

And the door slammed shut, the giggles outside muffled by the sound of something being hooked under the handle.

"Son of a bi—" Aaron hissed, trying to wriggle out from under his friend in the darkness, but Spencer just went limper, his head hanging, shoulders shaking. "Shit. Are you okay?"

The only light was a sliver from the crack around the door, and it caught the profile of Spencer's face as he looked up and began to snicker helplessly, slithering down and off Aaron to curl on the floor with his face buried in his knees.

"Stop laughing," Aaron told him firmly. The giggles continued. "Stop laughing! It's not funny!"

"Yes it is," came a muffled voice from outside. Aaron slapped the palm of his hand against the door.

Spencer began laughing harder.

"I hate everyone," Aaron groaned, and let gravity pull him off the moving box and into the tangle of Spencer on the closet floor, arms and legs knocking together and almost on his friend's lap. "This is childish." His head spun, thumped, and he leaned it on his knee, feeling Spencer still shaking with laughter next to him.

"Do you think Gandalf and Radagast ever had to do this?" Spencer asked, and Aaron jerked his head up to stare incredulously at his friend, almost tipping forward. Spencer's hair brushed his cheek before he could straighten, a puff of hot breath working past his jaw.

"Cuddle in a tiny closet because the Fellowship got drunk and tossed them in there together?" Aaron asked, dizzy and warm, the skin of his arm thrumming from where it was pressed against Spencer's arm.

"The Fellowship never met Radagast," Spencer said quietly. "Are you shaking?" A hand touched his arm, fingers trailing across his skin. Aaron shivered. They were silent for a moment, listening, but the hall outside was quiet.

The touch didn't move away, even when Aaron murmured, "No." It pressed down, fingers trembling, curling over his elbow and tracing the crook. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Spencer said quickly, and his hand dropped away, his breath coming fast. Aaron stared intently at him, trying to read him in the half-nothing light of the closet; reading into the stuttering pattern of breathing, the rapid shift of the chest against his side, the gallop of the heart within that chest. "Sorry. I'm. I think I'm drunk."

"Good thinking, genius," Aaron said, then frowned as he tried to muddle through what he'd just said. "I don't mind."

A sharp inhale. Spencer was trembling. Aaron thought he might be too, inching closer to him and hooking their legs together, watching his friend's face carefully.

"I don't mind," he repeated again, his throat dry and heart skipping two beats in succession. He could practically feel the rush of his blood, a bubble of nervous fear/worry/excitement working its way up from his stomach to swallow all the air before it could reach his brain. Spencer's mouth slipped open, possibly to talk, possibly to breathe, outlined in the white glint of light from the door-crack. Aaron watched those lips. Leaned towards them, insanely, thoughtlessly, and this was his friend. This could ruin everything.

But fuck, did that not feel like it mattered right now.

A hand pressed against his chest suddenly, and Aaron froze. Tried to read the intention behind that hand—to push him back or pull him closer? Fingers bunched in his shirt, loosened, splayed across his heart, and Spencer tilted his chin away and coughed nervously, the sound dry.

"Your heartrate is accelerated," he said abruptly, looking back. The hand on Aaron's chest shifted to his wrist, pressed against his skin. "Bounding pulse. Clammy skin, indicates nervousness or…"

"Shut the textbook off, Spence," Aaron replied, his skin burning in a line as Spencer's hand worked up his arm, those long, clever fingers finding his throat and the pulse that beat rapidly there. They tested it before outlining the shape of his jaw, and there was no hiding what he was now. Freaking out, for one, because this was his best friend, his oldest friend, and he wasn't gay. Except here, except now, contemplating leaning in and tasting those lips. Except after, when he could draw his friend out of the closet, up the hall, into the bedroom… "I'm not running on logic right now."

Spence twitched, nodded, jerked forward and then back, unsure. Reaching up, Aaron threaded his fingers through the hand against his neck and clinging, the only point of contact that felt right and comfortable at this point.

"Wait, no, I'm not sure," Spencer said, the shaking increasing, and Aaron immediately pulled back and away, accidentally pulling Spencer with him as the other boy refused to relinquish his grip on his hand. "I mean, I am but I'm not and we're drunk and we shouldn't be drunk or you'll be mad and I haven't, I don't—"

"Spence, it's fine." Aaron settled back, feeling sick now with the shock of what he'd almost done, the press of emotions building between them, the alcohol churning in his gut and bringing a gross taste of bile and beer to the back of his throat. "I don't feel well." An arm slung around his back, hand rubbing his shoulder-blade, and he felt the alcohol threatening to return. "Uh oh."

Spencer moved quicker than Aaron would have given him credit for, leaping up and only slightly elbowing Aaron in the process. "Hey, let us out—Aaron's ill!"

Aaron bolted before the door was even open, barely making it to the bathroom. Curled on the tiles, eyeing the grimy edge of the bath and making a mental note to get in here and clean before the next time he did this, he wasn't sure if he'd just ruined something he didn't know how to live without. The idea that he might have terrified him.

A glass of water bobbed into sight, the scuff of a shoe on tile echoing by his ear.

"Told you I handle my alcohol better," Spencer said, and Aaron tipped his head back to find his friend smiling down at him. "You have to hydrate between alcoholic drinks. I told you that."

Not ruined then.

Thank god, Aaron thought, and smiled back.

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"I don't remember how," Aaron said morosely, gazing at the impassable barrier to his goal. It loomed in front, miles away despite being within arm's reach if he was to simply launch himself forward with some sort of enthusiasm. "I could… jump."

"Don't jump," Spencer replied patiently, arm slung around Aaron's waist and keeping him upright. Warm and firm and remarkably steady considering Spencer had been pacing him all night. Warm and Spencer and Aaron pressed closer, hummed happily, and tucked his head against his shorter friend's chest. "Just step where I tell you to step."

"Okay," Aaron agreed placidly. He waited for Spencer to carefully begin to guide him around the outskirts of the camp-bed to Aaron's bed, before launching himself forward just to prove he could totally do it on his own and dragging them both down in a tumble of arms and legs and Spencerness. "Oops."

"Oops," Spencer agreed with a sigh, trying to wriggle out from under Aaron. He squeaked as Aaron tried to help and only managed to lay heavier on top of him, hanging his head over his shoulder and groaning as the bed danced under them. "You're squashing me."

"You like being squashed," Aaron reassured him, and snuggled closer, delighting in the closeness. Silence crept in, a comfortable kind of silence broken only by a half sigh/half laugh as Spencer tipped his head back to look at him. "I don't think I can… get up there…" They both peered up at the bed.

"Probably not." Spencer rolled carefully, hooking an arm around Aaron's back as he did so. Aaron let himself be guided to the side, rolling obediently into that embrace and leaning back against it. Rolling with him, they were front to front, legs still tangled, shoes still on, and Spencer's glasses were crooked on his nose. "You can sleep down here if you want, I'll sleep in your bed."

Aaron hummed again, and inched closer. This was the blissful kind of drunk. The empty warm kind of drunk that dragged limbs down and made everything comfortable; everything including this creaky camp-bed, the whisper of blue light sneaking in through the tear in the blind, the boy laying across from him with the crooked glasses and the flush across his thin face. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly, because he remembered the closet, hours and years ago, and thought maybe he was taking this weird confusing mix of feelings and dragging his friend into it without his permission. "I'm just. You're here. If I'm making you uncomfortable… I've just missed you."

Spencer shivered a little at the emphasis on the missed, something sad and longing twisting into his expression. "I've missed you too," he admitted. Aaron hungrily watched the way the words looked on his friend's face, the way his lips shaped them, the way his eyes never wavered from their target. "Summer doesn't feel the same. Can I have my arm back?"

Focusing on being heavy, Aaron smirked. "No," he said, and huddled into the arm curled under him. "Then you'll leave. Don't leave." The smirk vanished. He felt it go, felt it take the warm and happy away and just leave behind the cold horrible feeling of laying alone on the bathroom tiles, drunk and forgotten. "I don't want you to leave…"

Hazel eyes narrowed, a chest heaving against his, and was Spencer moving closer or was Aaron just imagining it? Wanting it?

Did he want it?

"I can't stay," Spencer was saying, and Aaron listened through the buzz of blood in his ears and the thump of their continued heartbeats. "Why tonight, Aaron? You've never… hinted to this. Not like this."

"It's always been like this," Aaron mumbled, leaning forward. Pressing his forehead against Spencer's, eyes slipping shut, just breathing him in. "I've never wanted you to go. Every good thing I have I have with you. You don't understand what it's like to want everything other than what you've got, when the only thing you really need to keep on going just keeps leaving. Why did you pull away? In the closet?"

The heart pressed against him skipped a beat. The breath paused. Came back with a whoosh that was beery and wavering and hinted that maybe his friend was a little drunk too. "I've never…" Spencer paused. Quiet fell again, heated this time. Aaron opened his mouth to reply, opened his eyes, just in time for Spencer to tip into his embrace and crash their lips together roughly, crudely, both gasping with the shock.

They pulled away before Aaron's brain could catch up with what just happened.

"Now I have," Spencer said seriously. "And now we can do it again."

Aaron sucked in a breath to try and understand what was happening, and Spencer kissed him again. And there was more heat, more panic, more hunger, and none of it was Aaron's. He was too frozen. It was all Spencer, his hands pulling Aaron closer, his teeth slipping painfully over Aaron's lip, their noses bumping together.

A rattling, choking kind of exhale and Spencer pulled away with a wet noise, letting his head drop against Aaron's chest and shuddering horribly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he was babbling, the shaking increasing incrementally as Aaron lay there fixated on the last two minutes and the way Spencer's hair stuck out strangely from a cowlick at the back. "I shouldn't have done that. That was impulsive and rude and this will ruin—"

"Shut up, stop thinking," Aaron said, his brain snapping into gear and sobering up at this hint of panic. "That was… nice." Nice. The word sounded weak and invalid, and Spencer lifted his head to cock an eyebrow at the way it hung oddly between them. "I mean, that was… good."

That wasn't any better.

Apparently his words were broken, so instead he wrapped his arms around his friend and pulled him flush against him, until they were a long line of heat down the centre of the camp-bed, the mattress dipping under their weight to push them closer. This wasn't something he'd thought of having.

That was a lie.

This was something he'd only allowed himself to consider in the darkest part of the night when he was at his loneliest. The nights when a new letter arrived, thick with his friend's personality, and he'd read it over and over and over and count the miles between them.

"I should go," Spencer mumbled finally, his eyes heavy lidded and his breathing evening out. Half asleep. More than half.

"You should stay," Aaron responded, closing his own eyes and feeling the world begin to soften at the edges, dragging him down. "Please…"

He did.

At least, for a little while.