Spencer Sweetheart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bitterlysweet) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
gooseberryhigh2018-02-17 08:41 am
bitterlysweet) wrote in gooseberryhigh2018-02-17 08:41 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Ira Ashworth & Spencer Sweet
When: Saturday, February 17, 2015, just before hockey.
Where: Outside by the lake, in public.
What: Spencer asks Ira about what's going on between him and Ramon.
Warnings: Boys are stupid.
When: Saturday, February 17, 2015, just before hockey.
Where: Outside by the lake, in public.
What: Spencer asks Ira about what's going on between him and Ramon.
Warnings: Boys are stupid.
Hockey’s being set up in the distance. Usually Spencer’s one of the first people on the ice, but not today. He’s leaning against the wall of the lodge, watching, waiting for things to start. His skates are still hanging over his shoulder by their laces. Ira’s just to the left of him, talking, but Spencer’s not adding much. His mind keeps wandering, which had made for an unusually quiet couple days for Spencer. Usually the two of them can go back and forth forever, fill up a whole room with words. Right now, though, Spencer’s letting Ira do most of the talking.
Spencer can’t believe that Ira would go for Ramon Delgado. The guy can barely be bothered to hold a conversation, but apparently that’s Ira’s type. Strong and silent or whatever. Or maybe Ira just likes him because he’s hot. Or maybe he likes him because he’s not a loud mouthed idiot.
There’s a lull in the conversation, and Spencer realizes he hasn’t been listening to anything Ira’s been saying for the past few minutes. He was too busy imagining Ramon and Ira together, wondering what they did after they left the dance. Spencer’s frown turns sour. He shouldn’t bring it up. He should just let it go. It isn’t any of his business. But.
“So, you and Ramon, huh?” he interrupts.
Ira hardly knows what he’s been going on about for the last five minutes, either. It’s nervous chatter at best. Spencer seems distracted. Maybe upset. Ira doesn’t know why. He’s trying to brush away the possibility that something bad happened at the dance, and Ira wasn’t there. But Spencer would’ve said. Surely. When Ira can’t find anything else to say, he lets silence fall between them for a moment, and then takes a breath, ready to finally ask what’s wrong.
But Spencer talks first. Ira blinks. It’s not the question he’s expecting, at all. He’d hardly thought anyone had noticed him with Ramon last night, sneaking out because the hearts and couples were overbearing. Spencer had been on a date. If he did notice, he certainly wouldn’t care. It’s Ira’s turn to be stunned into momentary silence. “What?”
“Whaddaya mean what?” Spencer doesn’t mean to sound annoyed, but he is. The last thing he wants to deal with is Ira playing dumb. Not that it matters. Ira doesn’t have to tell him anything. But then again, Spencer saw what he saw. “I thought that was old news, but I saw you leaving together. At the dance?” Spencer shoves his hands in the pockets of his coat and stares out at the other students. Ramon’s not there. He’s probably too cool for hockey.
“I’m sure he was a great conversationalist,” Spencer scoffs. He doubts they did much talking, and he doesn’t hide it.
For probably no good reason, Ira finds himself getting defensive and ashamed at the same time. He hadn’t done anything wrong. “He was okay.” He’s vague on purpose, letting his voice gain a bitter snap when it shouldn’t.
But this is Ira, who could never leave something that brief in his life. He drops his skates and turns to face Spencer. If they were gonna talk about this, they had to do it right. “We’re not...together or anything. I was bored. So was he. Weren’t you watching yourdate, anyway?”
The calm logic gains a few spikes again. He can’t seem to help it.
Ira’s sudden defensiveness just feeds Spencer’s irritation. He was okay. Spencer knows when Ira’s being intentionally cagey, usually to tease him or, in this case, be a dick. And then there’s the jab at JD, like noticing when his friends were doing made him a shitty date.
As Ira turns to face him, Spencer doesn’t move. He keeps facing forward with his hands in his pockets, only looking at Ira out of the corner of his eye. “Shit, sorry I noticed. I didn’t realize it was some kind of secret rendezvous.” He’s grinning, but it’s not a nice grin. “How often you planning on getting bored?”
Ira’s not sure if it’s hurt or annoyance that flashes across his face now. Maybe both. He bites the inside of his mouth, hard, to keep it in check. “It wasn’t,” he says, quiet, trying to keep his own emotions in check. It isn’t easy. Spencer won’t meet his eyes, and staring him down isn’t helping. There’s a scowl on his own face, and he can’t help sounding petulant when he does answer.
“Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe weekly. Maybe never. What do you care?”
That gets Spencer moving. He pushes off the wall and lets his skates fall to the floor. It was easy to tell Ira to start dating or go have fun when he knew Ira never would. Or thought he never would. No one really pursued Ira, so no one forced Spencer to think about what he’d do if things changed.
From Spencer’s perspective, he’d never been that subtle with Ira. In the back of his mind, Ira must have realized Spencer was into him. Spencer was always clamoring for his attention, going on about his looks, embarrassing himself for even small scraps of validation. So every time Ira politely sidestepped a flirtatious comment, Spencer got the message, and it said no thanks, Spencer. Now Ira’s put him on the spot, and Spencer squirms to escape it.
“You know why I care,” he shoots back, spinning to face Ira while stepping towards him angrily.
This is all new and completely bewildering to Ira. From what he could see, he read too much into everything Spencer told him. Into every side-glance and every line that he would’ve taken as flirting from everyone else. Ira had fought hard to tell himself that this was just how his friend showed kindness. This was just how Spencer talked to people. He couldn’t put too much stock in it, or reciprocate too much, or he’d be disappointed.
Unfortunately, this leaves him at a loss right now, mind reeling, forcing himself even now to not focus too hard on a little kernel of hope somewhere in the back of his mind. He steps in instead of away, never one to back down. “Why??” he demands again, too confrontational to hide from his own confusion.
Spencer inhales sharply, like he might say something, but no words come out. His mind is a jumble of angry confessions, hurt and guilt. He can’t tell where one thought ends and another begins. Even worse, Spencer can feel himself freezing. The indecision’s taking hold of him. Spencer knows the only way to stop it from happening is to stop thinking.
In the next second he seizes Ira’s shoulders and drags him to where Spencer can shove him against the stone wall of the lodge. He stares Ira down, and for a second it’s not certain whether this is a fight or something else. When Spencer grab’s Ira’s face and crashes into it with an aggressive, desperate kiss, there’s no more room for doubt why any of this is happening.
For half a second, Ira is pretty sure he’s getting punched in the face. So much so, in fact, that he grabs the front of Spencer’s jacket to have some leverage, face cringing once in anticipation of the blow. But then-- oh. Well fuck. He’s stunned suddenly out of all comebacks or wit. There’s no time or room to second guess this. That’s fine with Ira.
He uses his hold to pull Spencer against him, tight. He shoves his own shoulders off the wall so he can kiss Spencer back, forceful and sure. There aren’t any words, and maybe there don’t need to be, this time.
Ira’s not shoving him away, and his frustration starts to ebb. Spencer’s grip on Ira softens, but the kiss doesn’t. Spencer’s kissed dozens of times since he and Ira made out in that supply closet, but he hasn’t thought about anyone as much as he’d thought about Ira. His hand slides around to the back of Ira’s head, and weaves into his hair. This is no longer just a kiss.
Lost in the moment, Spencer doesn’t make the connection between what they’re doing and where they’re doing it until he needs to breathe. Reluctantly Spencer pulls back and slumps his head on Ira’s shoulder. “Shit.”
They’re blatantly in plain view of half their classmates.
Ira barely acknowledges the rest of the school, even when he glances up. He shrugs one shoulder, not bothering to look anything less than amused, and lets his lips fall to Spencer’s hair. “Fuck ‘em.” He murmurs into it, gently. It’s Gooseberry. Everyone had seen worse. Ira’s primary concern is when his hands had moved to circle Spencer’s waist, but that’s not much of a worry, either.
He had been hoping for this for a long time. Rather, he’d been hoping, then talking himself out of bothering to think it could happen at all. Relief is rushing through him, along with the thrill of everything else. His heart’s still going absurdly fast. He takes a deep breath and makes himself concentrate on the person who’s actually important here, pulling back, but just a little. “Hey. I should’ve...I mean. I didn’t know.”
It’s a poor apology, but he’s bad at them on the best of days.
Spencer steps away a little (although doesn’t quite let go) and shakes his head. “No, I mean, I was being a jerk, and… fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn't have…” He gestures between the two of them helplessly then sighs. Great way to give a confession, asshole. “I think I made us late for hockey. We should talk after.”
“No.” Ira’s quick to cut that off. “I’m glad you did. I was stupid.” He’d also forgotten completely about hockey. He almost wants to skip, but that would be even more conspicuous. He’ll probably be distracted through the entire game, with this conversation looming over them. But it’s not bad. This had to have been the hardest part. Ira lets his hands drop, reluctantly, but doesn’t stray far from Spencer’s side. “I’m gonna win.” He tries to tease, “But after that. Yeah. We will.”
Spencer can’t believe that Ira would go for Ramon Delgado. The guy can barely be bothered to hold a conversation, but apparently that’s Ira’s type. Strong and silent or whatever. Or maybe Ira just likes him because he’s hot. Or maybe he likes him because he’s not a loud mouthed idiot.
There’s a lull in the conversation, and Spencer realizes he hasn’t been listening to anything Ira’s been saying for the past few minutes. He was too busy imagining Ramon and Ira together, wondering what they did after they left the dance. Spencer’s frown turns sour. He shouldn’t bring it up. He should just let it go. It isn’t any of his business. But.
“So, you and Ramon, huh?” he interrupts.
Ira hardly knows what he’s been going on about for the last five minutes, either. It’s nervous chatter at best. Spencer seems distracted. Maybe upset. Ira doesn’t know why. He’s trying to brush away the possibility that something bad happened at the dance, and Ira wasn’t there. But Spencer would’ve said. Surely. When Ira can’t find anything else to say, he lets silence fall between them for a moment, and then takes a breath, ready to finally ask what’s wrong.
But Spencer talks first. Ira blinks. It’s not the question he’s expecting, at all. He’d hardly thought anyone had noticed him with Ramon last night, sneaking out because the hearts and couples were overbearing. Spencer had been on a date. If he did notice, he certainly wouldn’t care. It’s Ira’s turn to be stunned into momentary silence. “What?”
“Whaddaya mean what?” Spencer doesn’t mean to sound annoyed, but he is. The last thing he wants to deal with is Ira playing dumb. Not that it matters. Ira doesn’t have to tell him anything. But then again, Spencer saw what he saw. “I thought that was old news, but I saw you leaving together. At the dance?” Spencer shoves his hands in the pockets of his coat and stares out at the other students. Ramon’s not there. He’s probably too cool for hockey.
“I’m sure he was a great conversationalist,” Spencer scoffs. He doubts they did much talking, and he doesn’t hide it.
For probably no good reason, Ira finds himself getting defensive and ashamed at the same time. He hadn’t done anything wrong. “He was okay.” He’s vague on purpose, letting his voice gain a bitter snap when it shouldn’t.
But this is Ira, who could never leave something that brief in his life. He drops his skates and turns to face Spencer. If they were gonna talk about this, they had to do it right. “We’re not...together or anything. I was bored. So was he. Weren’t you watching yourdate, anyway?”
The calm logic gains a few spikes again. He can’t seem to help it.
Ira’s sudden defensiveness just feeds Spencer’s irritation. He was okay. Spencer knows when Ira’s being intentionally cagey, usually to tease him or, in this case, be a dick. And then there’s the jab at JD, like noticing when his friends were doing made him a shitty date.
As Ira turns to face him, Spencer doesn’t move. He keeps facing forward with his hands in his pockets, only looking at Ira out of the corner of his eye. “Shit, sorry I noticed. I didn’t realize it was some kind of secret rendezvous.” He’s grinning, but it’s not a nice grin. “How often you planning on getting bored?”
Ira’s not sure if it’s hurt or annoyance that flashes across his face now. Maybe both. He bites the inside of his mouth, hard, to keep it in check. “It wasn’t,” he says, quiet, trying to keep his own emotions in check. It isn’t easy. Spencer won’t meet his eyes, and staring him down isn’t helping. There’s a scowl on his own face, and he can’t help sounding petulant when he does answer.
“Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe weekly. Maybe never. What do you care?”
That gets Spencer moving. He pushes off the wall and lets his skates fall to the floor. It was easy to tell Ira to start dating or go have fun when he knew Ira never would. Or thought he never would. No one really pursued Ira, so no one forced Spencer to think about what he’d do if things changed.
From Spencer’s perspective, he’d never been that subtle with Ira. In the back of his mind, Ira must have realized Spencer was into him. Spencer was always clamoring for his attention, going on about his looks, embarrassing himself for even small scraps of validation. So every time Ira politely sidestepped a flirtatious comment, Spencer got the message, and it said no thanks, Spencer. Now Ira’s put him on the spot, and Spencer squirms to escape it.
“You know why I care,” he shoots back, spinning to face Ira while stepping towards him angrily.
This is all new and completely bewildering to Ira. From what he could see, he read too much into everything Spencer told him. Into every side-glance and every line that he would’ve taken as flirting from everyone else. Ira had fought hard to tell himself that this was just how his friend showed kindness. This was just how Spencer talked to people. He couldn’t put too much stock in it, or reciprocate too much, or he’d be disappointed.
Unfortunately, this leaves him at a loss right now, mind reeling, forcing himself even now to not focus too hard on a little kernel of hope somewhere in the back of his mind. He steps in instead of away, never one to back down. “Why??” he demands again, too confrontational to hide from his own confusion.
Spencer inhales sharply, like he might say something, but no words come out. His mind is a jumble of angry confessions, hurt and guilt. He can’t tell where one thought ends and another begins. Even worse, Spencer can feel himself freezing. The indecision’s taking hold of him. Spencer knows the only way to stop it from happening is to stop thinking.
In the next second he seizes Ira’s shoulders and drags him to where Spencer can shove him against the stone wall of the lodge. He stares Ira down, and for a second it’s not certain whether this is a fight or something else. When Spencer grab’s Ira’s face and crashes into it with an aggressive, desperate kiss, there’s no more room for doubt why any of this is happening.
For half a second, Ira is pretty sure he’s getting punched in the face. So much so, in fact, that he grabs the front of Spencer’s jacket to have some leverage, face cringing once in anticipation of the blow. But then-- oh. Well fuck. He’s stunned suddenly out of all comebacks or wit. There’s no time or room to second guess this. That’s fine with Ira.
He uses his hold to pull Spencer against him, tight. He shoves his own shoulders off the wall so he can kiss Spencer back, forceful and sure. There aren’t any words, and maybe there don’t need to be, this time.
Ira’s not shoving him away, and his frustration starts to ebb. Spencer’s grip on Ira softens, but the kiss doesn’t. Spencer’s kissed dozens of times since he and Ira made out in that supply closet, but he hasn’t thought about anyone as much as he’d thought about Ira. His hand slides around to the back of Ira’s head, and weaves into his hair. This is no longer just a kiss.
Lost in the moment, Spencer doesn’t make the connection between what they’re doing and where they’re doing it until he needs to breathe. Reluctantly Spencer pulls back and slumps his head on Ira’s shoulder. “Shit.”
They’re blatantly in plain view of half their classmates.
Ira barely acknowledges the rest of the school, even when he glances up. He shrugs one shoulder, not bothering to look anything less than amused, and lets his lips fall to Spencer’s hair. “Fuck ‘em.” He murmurs into it, gently. It’s Gooseberry. Everyone had seen worse. Ira’s primary concern is when his hands had moved to circle Spencer’s waist, but that’s not much of a worry, either.
He had been hoping for this for a long time. Rather, he’d been hoping, then talking himself out of bothering to think it could happen at all. Relief is rushing through him, along with the thrill of everything else. His heart’s still going absurdly fast. He takes a deep breath and makes himself concentrate on the person who’s actually important here, pulling back, but just a little. “Hey. I should’ve...I mean. I didn’t know.”
It’s a poor apology, but he’s bad at them on the best of days.
Spencer steps away a little (although doesn’t quite let go) and shakes his head. “No, I mean, I was being a jerk, and… fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn't have…” He gestures between the two of them helplessly then sighs. Great way to give a confession, asshole. “I think I made us late for hockey. We should talk after.”
“No.” Ira’s quick to cut that off. “I’m glad you did. I was stupid.” He’d also forgotten completely about hockey. He almost wants to skip, but that would be even more conspicuous. He’ll probably be distracted through the entire game, with this conversation looming over them. But it’s not bad. This had to have been the hardest part. Ira lets his hands drop, reluctantly, but doesn’t stray far from Spencer’s side. “I’m gonna win.” He tries to tease, “But after that. Yeah. We will.”
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cam: [whole belly laughs for 10 seconds] no
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but also you know what? they are behind and that feels right
*definitely almost wrote "jan" there
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good job boys 8))))))))))
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