Title: Hold Your Breath Till We Cross the Sundown
Pairings: Jon/Spencer, Brendon/Cash, Tom/Greta
Summary: Mondays are their busiest days. Jon and Greta both have a full schedule, and by the time five o'clock rolls around, Cash is leaning against Spencer's desk at every opportunity he can get.
"My feet hurt, Spencer. Make them all go away."
There are still two kids out in the waiting room and Spencer gives him an unsympathetic look, handing him Suzy Gardner's file. Cash flips him off, taking the file and opening the door to the waiting room. "Suzy Gardner? Dr. Salpeter will see you now."
Notes: Huge, huge thank you to withoutmaps for helping me plot this piece of fluff out. This started out as something I literally dreamed up and it wouldn't (and mostly still doesn't, but whatever, that's what fluff means) have a plot without her. And more thank yous to her and sweetrecovery for the beta jobs. ♥!!!
"Dr. Walker's office, how may I help you?" Spencer makes notes on a notepad as the person on the other line speaks. "No, of course, Thursday would be great. We have a two o'clock and a three-thirty." He makes another note on the pad. "Three-thirty is great, we will see you and Brian then, Mrs. Connor."
Hanging up the phone, Spencer shoves a hand through his hair and enters Brian Connor's appointment into the computer, then to the calendar on his desk. Looking around, he makes sure there's no one coming and flips open his Sidekick, typing out a hurried message to Ryan.
"Spencer!" Spencer's fingers jerk on the keys and he hastily presses 'send', stashing his phone in the top drawer before turning around to watch Jon come walking around the corner. "Spencer Smith!" Jon drops a file on Spencer's desk, then pulls a pen and a prescription pad out of his coat pocket, scribbling something down before tearing it off and setting it down on top of the file. "Bradley needs a follow up appointment in two weeks, and could you call this in for him downstairs, please?"
Spencer nods and Jon looks up at him, grins widely before he says, "Thank you. That shade of blue looks nice on you."
Spencer flushes pink. "You say that about all of my blue scrubs."
Jon grins. "Well, maybe all shades of blue look good on you." He leans across the desk to scrub his fingers through Spencer's hair, tugging on the ends before dropping his hand. "It's called a compliment, Smith. You're supposed to say thank you."
Spencer smiles and says pointedly, "Thank you, Jon. That lab coat looks nice on you, too."
Jon laughs, squeezing Spencer's shoulder, then backing up and turning towards his office. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Spencer." He winks, pats a hand on the desk, and walks off.
Rolling his eyes, Spencer makes a disgusted noise as he reaches for the file and the prescription note, then lifts the phone to dial the pharmacy downstairs, pressing a palm to his burning cheek.
Once Bradley and his mother are gone, Cash leans his elbows on the desk. "Oh, god, can this day be over please?"
Spencer snorts, sticking Bradley's file on the cart behind him for filing later. "It's only eleven, dude."
"When is lunch?"
Greta pokes her head around the wall of her office. "When is lunch?" Stepping around it, she leans a hip against the door jamb. "And more importantly, what is lunch?"
"I want a burger!" Jon calls out from his office.
Raising an eyebrow at Greta, Spencer shrugs. "I guess we're having hamburgers."
"I don't think it's a big deal."
Greta rolls her eyes and steals a fry off of Spencer's plate. "Yeah, but you don't know him that well, so you can't judge." She turns in her seat. "What do you think, Jon?"
Jon's eyes widen and he holds his hands up palm-out. "I'm not getting involved. All I need is for Tom to think I'm taking your side."
Blinking at him, Greta says, "Are you taking his side?"
Squinting at Greta, Jon bites into his hamburger, chewing meditatively before answering. "I'm not taking anyone's side."
Cash nods. "He's Switzerland," he says to Greta, then, to Jon, "Good decision."
Jon grins at Cash and looks back at Greta. "But, he does talk about you. A lot. Like, endlessly. It's kind of gross."
Greta rolls her eyes again, but she's grinning now, and Spencer pulls his plate out of her reach. "Plus, Tom is a guy. Don't read too much into it; guys are emotionally challenged."
Greta hands Spencer a bowl of ice cream as she sits down next to him, tucking her feet under Spencer's thigh and digging into her own bowl. Mouth full of ice cream, she gestures at Spencer with her spoon. "Okay, so here's the problem. We're both in love with guys who are completely clueless."
Spencer chokes on his ice cream, setting his bowl down in his lap and turning to look at Greta. "I'm sorry, in love with? I'm not in love with anyone." He pauses and considers, staring down at his ice cream. "Unless you're talking about Ben and Jerry. What flavor is this?"
Greta rolls her eyes and lifts her foot, nudging him. "Way to change the subject, asshole. It's Phish Food. No, but seriously!"
Sighing, Spencer leans against her up-drawn legs. "I told you Greta, it's not a big deal."
"But why didn't he stay the night?" she asks in a small voice. She bites her lip, eyebrows drawn, and Spencer takes her ice cream, sets their bowls on the coffee table, and shifts, tugging her legs out straight and crawling over her. She lets out a half-laugh, curls her arms around his shoulders as he settles over her, and buries her face in his shirt, sniffling. "I hate boys."
Spencer presses his nose into her hair and tangles their feet together. "Me too."
"Beep beep beep! Wake up!" Spencer groans and Greta tugs at his shoulder, sitting on his back and bouncing. "Come on, Spence, time to get up. We have work! It's Friday!"
"Why are you my alarm clock," Spencer mumbles into the couch cushion.
"We fell asleep in here, you didn't set one. Lucky for you, I did. Now get up, it's time for you to shower, because your hair is gross. You have to be pretty and presentable for work!" She gets off of him, then shoves something in his face.
Grasping it in his hand, Spencer pulls it away from his face so his eyes can focus. "What is this?"
"Your scrubs for today!" Greta beams at him, and Spencer wrinkles his nose.
"You love pink! Why don't you wear pink anymore, Spencer? I found this in the very back of your closet."
Pushing himself into a sitting position, Spencer rubs his eyes and stifles a yawn. "I used to wear pink. Now I wear blue. Blue is a man's color."
"Cash wears pink."
"Cash is gay."
Greta grins, turning around and heading for the kitchen. "So are you," she calls over her shoulder.
Spencer mumbles, "I used to wear pink. Cash is a nurse. Nurses wear pink." He calls out, louder, "I'm not wearing this! I don't wear pink anymore!"
Spencer looks up from his coffee as Cash pushes through the door, huge dark sunglasses on his face and a ski-cap on his head. He grunts and nods at Spencer, says, voice low, "'Sup, man. Nice scrubs."
Rolling his eyes, Spencer mentally curses Greta and texts Ryan, 'women r th devil, get out while u can.'
Fridays are easy, because they're only half days. The second half of the day, Jon is at the hospital across the street and Greta hardly sees any patients when Jon isn't around. Spencer hums, propping his chin in his hand and moving a red seven onto a black eight in the little Solitaire window. A little notification pops up, tells him that he has a new email from Jon's Blackberry. 'Pub tonight, tell the others. xoxo Jon.'
Spencer frowns, ignores the little flutters in his belly at the 'xoxo' and shakes his head, says out loud, "Oh, no. No."
He clicks the email shut and Cash wanders over, tugging the lollipop out of his mouth to say, "No what?"
"Jon wants to go get drinks tonight." Spencer looks up at Cash and Cash nods.
"Awesome! Greta, drinks tonight!"
She calls out from the back, "Sweet!"
Spencer shakes his head again. "No. No, I'm not going. You guys can all go without me, I'm going home."
Rolling his eyes, Cash sticks the lollipop back in his mouth and says, "You've been saying that every time for the past two years, Spence. You're coming and you know it."
Spencer looks up and grins. "Brendon!" Brendon smiles back, looks over at Cash and waves.
Cash pulls the lollipop out of his mouth and tosses it into a nearby trash can. He opens the door and steps out into the waiting room, asks, voice worried, "You don't have an appointment. Is something wrong?"
Brendon shrugs, crouching down. "She has a cough, I just thought maybe Greta could take a look at it."
Smiling, Cash kneels and Spencer stands, sticking his torso out of the window so he can see. Cash holds a hand out and says, "Hey, Millie. Do you want to come see Greta with me?"
Millie burrows into Brendon's side, hiding her face against his thigh, and Brendon laughs, picking her up and standing. He murmurs into her hair, watching Cash straighten up. "Come on, baby girl. We're gonna go with Cash, okay?"
Turning her head so that she can stare at Cash with one big, brown eye, Millie nods slowly, then turns to watch Spencer as Brendon follows Cash. Spencer waves at her, smiling, and she slowly leans away from Brendon, smiling shyly, and waves back. They step through the doorway and Brendon pauses at Spencer's desk so Spencer can run a hand down the back of her head. Millie's smile widens and she mumbles, "'Pence." She ends with a hoarse cough and then hides her face in Brendon's shoulder again. Spencer clucks his tongue, rubbing her back.
"I'll let Greta know you're on your way back."
Spencer hates bar nights. Hates them with a passion. And yet, they somehow manage to convince him that he wants to be there, every single time.
He frowns into his beer, glaring across the table at Jon and Greta. Jon has his arm around her and she has her head on his shoulder, Jon's cheek resting on the top of her head, and they're singing along to the jukebox. Greta giggles as the song ends, sitting up, and she says, "They should have karaoke nights here."
Cash looks up from his phone briefly. "They do have karaoke nights. On Saturdays, remember?"
"Saturdays!" Greta giggles again and pokes Jon in the shoulder. "We should come here on a Saturday, Jon Walker. Doctor Walker." She leans forward, looping her arms around Jon's neck, and presses a smacking kiss to his cheek. "Next Saturday. Karaoke!"
Rolling his eyes, Spencer shoves back from the table and waves a hand at the bar. "I'm getting another one."
Jon raises his hand. "I want one, too! Bring a round for everyone, Spencer!"
By the time Spencer gets back, carrying four beer bottles by the necks, Tom is in his seat. He looks windswept, hair blown across his forehead and into his eyes, cheeks red above the scruff of his beard, and Greta is sitting in his lap.
Handing out the beers, Spencer takes Greta's empty seat next to Jon and raises an eyebrow when Greta ignores the beer and goes straight for Tom. Spencer coughs awkwardly when Tom's hands disappear beneath the table. Cash is too busy tapping away on his cell phone to notice anything, so Spencer turns to Jon. He's pale and his eyes are bright when he smiles at Spencer. Beams at Spencer and rakes a hand through his bangs, sweeping them sideways across his forehead and leaning into Spencer's space.
"Spencer, we should dance."
Spencer smiles at Jon as he sips his beer and says, "Sorry Jon, I'm not drunk enough to dance." He sets his beer down and reaches a hand out, pressing Jon against the back of his chair before he falls over. "You, on the other hand, are drunk enough for both of us."
"It's Friday, Spence," Jon slurs, wrapping his hands around Spencer's shoulders and pulling him closer. Jon presses his nose into Spencer's cheek, and Spencer can feel him smile. "Your beard is soft." He leans back a little, rubs a palm up and down Spencer's cheek. "Why did you grow a beard, Spencer?"
Spencer huffs out a breath, trying to lean back a little bit, but Jon won't let him, tries to pull him closer and Spencer has to balance a hand on Jon's leg. He tries to ignore the way his fingers are digging into the muscle of Jon's thigh, the way Jon is radiating heat, and his palms are sweating against denim. He forces out, "I like beards. Beards are manly."
"Manly. You are manly, Spencer. Now, you are manly. You used to be pretty." He sounds a little bit wistful and Spencer raises an eyebrow at him.
"The parents used to call me 'miss'. They thought I was a woman."
Jon laughs, presses his face into Spencer's neck, and Spencer jerks back, hands splayed against Jon's chest. "Okay, it's time to go home, Jon."
Spencer stands up, cupping his hands under Jon's arms and tugging so that Jon stands, too. "Hey Cash, can you take Jon's car? I'm taking him home with me."
"Sure." Cash looks up from his phone, sliding it into his pocket as he stands. He walks around to Jon's other side, sliding one of Jon's arms across his shoulder, and looks around at Spencer. "Want me to bring it by your place tomorrow?"
Spencer shrugs and presses a hand to the small of Jon's back to urge him forward. "Come on, Greta, time to go home."
Greta grabs Tom's hand and pulls him along with them and they clamber into the back of Spencer's car. Cash helps Spencer get Jon into the passenger seat before waving them off and Jon stares blankly out the window as they drive, eyes unfocused as the city lights whiz by.
Spencer can hear Greta giggling in the back seat, can see her and Tom kissing in the rear-view mirror, and he sighs.
He manages to get Jon up the stairs without a hitch. He stumbles on the second story landing when Jon slides a hand down his back and squeezes his ass, grinning into Spencer's shoulder, but he manages to right himself, reaching behind him and tugging Jon's hand back up before they reach the third flight of stairs. They really need to petition for an elevator.
"You really need an elevator," Tom grunts, hands curled under Greta's thighs as he gives her a piggy-back ride up the stairs.
Once Jon is settled on the couch, a blanket tucked up around his chin, and Tom and Greta have disappeared into Greta's room, Spencer steps under the steaming spray of the shower and lets the water wash away a week's worth of tension.
His sigh echoes off the tiled walls as he works shampoo into his hair and tries not to think about a strong thigh under his palm, a hand on his ass, lips pressed against his neck. It doesn't work very well, and as the shampoo suds slide down his back in soapy rivulets, he presses his forehead to the cold tile and gives in.
Mondays are their busiest days. Jon and Greta both have a full schedule, and by the time five o'clock rolls around, Cash is leaning against Spencer's desk at every opportunity he can get.
"My feet hurt, Spencer. Make them all go away."
There are still two kids out in the waiting room and Spencer gives him an unsympathetic look, handing him Suzy Gardner's file. Cash flips him off, taking the file and opening the door to the waiting room. "Suzy Gardner? Dr. Salpeter will see you now."
As Cash takes Suzy and her mother around the corner to one of the examining rooms, Jon walks up. "One more, right? Please tell me there's only one more."
Spencer grins, handing him a file. "One more."
"Bless you, Spencer Smith." Stretching across the desk, Jon lays a hand on Spencer's shoulder and squeezes. "You are an angel. Oh, by the way, Wednesday night, my place." Spencer looks at Jon questioningly and he continues, "The big game! Come on, Bulls versus the Lakers."
Brow furrowed, Spencer says, "I don't follow football."
Jon laughs, squeezing Spencer's shoulder again, lets his hand trail down Spencer's arm before he pulls away. "Be there, Spencer. Or be...well, I don't really know what 'be square' means, but it sounds ominous."
Spencer's arm tingles and his cheeks hurt from smiling. He ducks his head and waits for Jon to take his last patient back before looking up again. Sighing, he drops his head into his hands.
"You're such a girl," Cash says from right behind him and Spencer jumps, twirling his chair around to face him.
He rolls his eyes as he pulls a stack of files off the cart next to Cash and stands up. "Whatever, at least I don't try to convey my feelings with cherry lollipops."
Cash makes a face. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Spencer gives him a knowing look and Cash sighs. "Whatever man, at least I'm working up the courage to go for it instead of making moony-eyes and admiring from afar."
"Here," Spencer shoves the stack of files into Cash's arms before grabbing the rest of them and motioning for Cash to head for the filing shelves. "As long as you're standing here giving me shit, you can help me put these away so we can get out of here."
"You're going to watch a football game? I don't think it's even football season, Spence."
"I don't know, something about Bulls?" Spencer shoves half of his clothes down the rack in his closet, looking through his pants.
"Yeah, that's basketball."
Rolling his eyes, Spencer huffs out, "Whatever. Since when do you know anything about sports, anyway? I don't know what to wear, Ryan. Most of the time all I have to think about is what shade of blue I want my scrubs to be."
Ryan laughs, "You're going to watch a basketball game, I don't think anyone there is going to be paying attention to your clothes. Why don't you just ask Greta?"
Spencer makes a face, mouth twisted. "She would laugh at me."
"I'm laughing at you," Ryan points out.
"Yeah, but you're half-way across the country. I have to work and live with Greta. It's not the same. Anyway, it's one of your best friend duties, so suck it up. Now seriously. If I wear the dark-wash jeans with the square pockets and my white loafers --"
"Just don't wear the black button down, okay?"
Spencer pauses, the hanger with the black button down in his hand. "Why not?"
"Because you wear it all the time. Plus, dark-wash jeans should be worn with a light shirt. Wear something blue; it'll look nice with your eyes."
Chewing on his lip, Spencer pulls out a light blue henley. "Okay, cool."
"You're welcome. I expect details tomorrow. And hey, take a shower first, okay?" Spencer snorts and Ryan adds, "Say hi to Greta for me," before hanging up.
Spencer showers and gets dressed, stands in front of the mirror for ten minutes holding in his stomach and flattening his hair down before walking out into the living room. Greta is waiting there, arms crossed and tapping her foot. "Oh my god, you're worse than a girl, seriously. Can we go now?"
Spencer nods, sucking in a breath and pressing a hand to his stomach to try and quell the butterflies that seem to have taken up residence there. Greta grabs his arm and pulls him out the door. "Your ass looks awesome in those jeans, by the way."
Spencer grins, looping an arm around Greta's neck and pulling her against his side to press a kiss to her temple. "You don't look so bad yourself."
The game has already started by the time they get there, and Greta makes a bee-line for the couch, squeezing herself in between Jon and his friends Adam and Andy (who likes to be called Butcher, for whatever reason; Spencer isn't going to ask for details on that one), who pass her a beer automatically.
Spencer spots Tom sitting at a table in the corner, face illuminated by the weak light of the laptop in front of him. Spencer walks over and sits with him. "Not interested in the game?"
Tom wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, pushing the laptop to the side. "I don't really do sports. You?"
Spencer laughs, short and self-deprecating. "I thought the Bulls were a football team."
"Oh god, I bet Jon gave you shit for that one."
Spencer leans his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his hand. "So, what have you got there?"
Smiling, Tom pulls the laptop back over, angling it so that Spencer can see the screen.
"Stop trying to steal my boyfriend, Smith," Greta says, sliding onto Tom's lap and stealing his beer.
Spencer looks up from the computer, surprised. "Is the game over?"
Greta nods, downing the rest of Tom's beer, and Jon walks over, curls his hands around Spencer's shoulders and squeezes. "We lost."
"Fucking Kobe Bryant," Adam calls from his spot on the couch.
Sighing, Jon bends over so he can drape his arms down Spencer's chest and rest his chin on his shoulder. "Fucking Kobe Bryant," he murmurs in Spencer's ear.
Spencer tries not to shiver and shifts uncomfortably. Jon's fingertips are almost touching the tops of his thighs, and his back is pressed to Spencer's, breath hot against Spencer's neck, and Greta is watching them with wide eyes.
Spencer's hands itch to close around Jon's palms, to let their fingers slide together, pull him closer. Clearing his throat, Spencer pushes his chair back and stands up, lets Jon's arms slide off his shoulders. He tugs down the hem of his shirt and mumbles something about the bathroom without meeting anyone's eyes, then starts down the hall.
He locks himself in the bathroom and turns on the faucet before sitting down on the edge of the tub. Balancing his elbows on his knees, Spencer presses his palms to his face and sighs.
He loses track of how long he sits there, but some time later someone taps on the door and he hears Greta murmur, voice muffled through the wood, "Spence?"
Mouth twisting, Spencer stands up and shuts the water off, opens the door. Greta leans her head against the door jamb, looking up at Spencer. "You ready to go?"
"You're not gonna stay with Tom?" Greta shakes her head, holding a hand out for Spencer, and he slides his hand into hers. "You sure?"
Smiling, Greta pulls him out of the bathroom, bumping their shoulders together. "Of course I'm sure. He deserves it, anyway, for last week." They step back into the living room and Greta says, "Hey guys, Spence isn't feeling too well, we're gonna go home."
She lets go of Spencer's hand to go say goodbye to Tom, and Jon comes up to Spencer, brow furrowed, and presses his fingers to Spencer's forearm. "You okay, Spence?"
Spencer nods, shrugging, and Jon bites his lip, watching him for a second before nodding back, then lifting up onto his toes and wrapping Spencer up into a hug. Spencer lets his eyes close, slides his arms around Jon's waist and hugs him back briefly, nose pressed into his hair, before stepping back. Jon smells like Old Spice and laundry detergent and it makes Spencer's stomach tighten with want.
"Thanks for tonight, Jon," Spencer says, then looks over and meets Greta's eyes. She smiles at him before pressing a quick kiss to Tom's lips, then walks with him to the door.
"Night, boys," she waves at them, holding her other hand out for Spencer's car keys, and Jon shuts the door behind them.
The drive back is silent, and when they park the car and get out, Greta slides an arm around Spencer's waist, leaves it there until they reach their front door.
Without turning on any of the lights, Spencer strips to his boxers, sets an alarm, and crawls into bed. A few minutes later, the bed dips and Spencer feels Greta's long hair sliding across his arm. Smiling, he rolls onto his back and holds his arm up so she can lay her head on his chest, curls his arm around her shoulders and pulls her close, falls asleep to the sound of her steady breathing.
On Thursday Jon pops his head around the corner of Greta's office and says, "Office meeting!" Then to Spencer, "Forward the phones for a sec, Spence. My office, two minutes."
Confused, Spencer forwards the phones and waits for Greta to go into Jon's office. Cash is already in there, slouched into one of the arm chairs and messing with the Rubik's cube Jon keeps on his desk. Palms braced on his desk, Jon says, "So. Saturday night is karaoke night at the pub and we're going."
Cash looks up from the toy and says, "Brendon's coming, too, I called him. Millie is with her mom for the weekend. So now you guys have to go, or you'll disappoint Brendon."
Jon grins at them and Spencer glares down at Cash, then looks at Greta. Greta is smiling though and Spencer makes a distressed noise. "Greta."
Shrugging, Greta grabs his hand and tugs. "Karaoke, Spence! We're so there, Jon."
"Sometimes I really hate you, Greta."
Greta just beams at him, eyes wide and innocent.
Cash launches into the opening verse as the music starts up, too loud and off key, eyes on his table. He winks at Greta, then turns his gaze on Brendon, and Brendon grins into his fist as he watches Cash make a fool of himself in front of everyone at the bar.
But then Cash braces his legs apart and starts on the chorus, and Brendon's smile slides into a grimace when Cash thrusts his hips forward and slides a palm down his chest as he sings, "I don't want anybody else, when I think about you, I touch myself!" His voice cracks on the high note and his eyes widen comically, but he doesn't stop, just raises his hand into the air, fingers spread towards the ceiling as he moves into the second verse.
It only gets worse after that, but Brendon can't help being amused by it all and he's even smiling again by the end, joins in when Jon and Greta clap as Cash hops off the little platform and makes his way back over to the table. (Spencer has his face buried in his hands and he's too busy shaking his head to join in on the clapping. Not that he would anyway--he doesn't condone making a fool of one's self in front of a room full of people.)
Cash is panting, sliding into the seat next to Brendon, and he grabs Brendon's beer and downs it all in one breath. Setting the glass back on the table, he turns to Brendon, eyebrows raised. "So? How did I do?"
Brendon laughs, lifts his hand to squeeze Cash's shoulder. "It was..." He can't think of anything to appropriately describe it and Cash watches him, chewing on his bottom lip. Brendon laughs again, slips his hand around to the back of Cash's neck and lets his fingers slide into Cash's hair. "Cash," Brendon finishes affectionately.
Greta leans across the table to pat Cash's hand and Jon crows, "It was fuckin' awesome!"
Cash grins at Jon and gives him a thumbs up before turning back to Brendon and, without preamble, fists a hand in Brendon's shirt and yanks him forward. The kiss has absolutely zero finesse to it, but Brendon's fingers tighten in Cash's hair, his other hand lifting to cup the side of Cash's neck, and he kisses back, their lips sliding together until Cash parts his and whispers, "Brendon."
"Yeah," Brendon answers. His voice is hoarse and he clears his throat, licks his lips before saying, "We should get out of here."
Cash flattens his palms against Brendon's chest, lets them slide down his stomach until his fingertips are resting against Brendon's belt. He nods slowly, licks his lips. "Definitely. We should definitely do that."
Brendon just sits there for a minute, fingers still tangled in Cash's hair, before scooting his chair back and standing up, grabbing his keys and phone and shoving them into his pockets.
"You're leaving?" Jon looks up at Cash and Brendon, eyes wide and a little bit glassy.
"Sorry buddy," Cash nods, patting Jon on the shoulder.
"You're gonna miss my turn."
Cash grins. "I'm sure Greta will take pictures for me."
Greta laughs, "Pictures? How about videos." She holds up a little digital camera and smiles wide at Jon. "Prime blackmail material, my friend."
Brendon leans across the table and high-fives her. "I like the way you think."
Jon pouts after they leave, so Spencer slides his beer across the table and Brendon and Cash are forgotten within minutes.
Finally, Jon's name is called and he makes his way towards the little stage, swaying a bit as he goes. Spencer bends his head towards Greta's ear and asks, "What is he singing?"
Greta shrugs, leaning against his side. "I don't know, he wouldn't tell anyone."
They watch Jon walk to the center of the platform, smooth his hands down his pants, then grin straight at Spencer as the music starts up.
The smile fades off Spencer's face as he recognizes the music and Greta lets out a strangled laugh. "Oh my god. Please tell me he's not singing what I think this is."
Spencer shakes his head, mouth hanging open, and watches in horrified fascination as Jon starts singing.
Spencer wears his green scrubs on Monday. They're his most innocuous pair, the same plain, boring shade most doctors and nurses wear. Most importantly, they don't draw any attention to him. Well, not any more attention than he already gets, sitting at the front desk, and he slumps down in his seat whenever Jon passes, nods mutely whenever Jon asks him something, hands him files without making eye contact.
Jon looks completely perplexed and Greta keeps giving him weird looks, but Spencer ignores them, pastes on a fake smile every time he catches her staring at him and says, "Did you need something, Dr. Salpeter?"
Shaking her head, she just says, "I'm going to figure out what you're up to, Smith. You can't hide anything from me."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Greta. Lily Holden is here," he says, changing the subject fluidly, and hands her Lily's file, gaze steady. She squints at him, but takes the file.
"Just you wait." She points at him, then goes to open the door to the waiting room. "Lily Holden? We'll take you back now."
Spencer wears his green scrubs the entire week, and spends the whole week steadfastly ignoring Jon, eating lunch at his desk instead of the lunch room and sneaking texts to Ryan under the desk when no one is around.
On Thursday, Cash has another lollipop in his mouth and his lips and tongue are purple when he leans over Spencer's desk, arms crossed, and says, "Dude, quit being a dick."
"What?" Spencer looks up at Cash, eyes wide. "I'm not being a dick."
"Yeah, you are. Jon has been moping in his office all week because you've been fucking weird, ignoring him and shit."
Spencer hastily slides the window to the waiting room shut and hisses, "Hey, there are kids here!"
Cash just rolls his eyes and tugs his lollipop out of his mouth. "Whatever. Seriously, though. Stop being an ass and go say you're sorry."
Jaw set, Spencer says, "I have nothing to apologize for."
"Ugh, Spencer." Greta walks over and leans against the desk with her shoulder pressed against Cash's. "Shut up, he's right."
Spencer glares at both of them silently before turning his chair around and occupying himself with filing. He can feel them staring at his back, keeps it turned until he hears them sigh and walk away.
Friday afternoon Spencer finishes the filing early and sits at his desk playing solitaire and texting with Ryan until it's time to close. Jon makes it back just before five, giving Spencer a silent look before slipping into Greta's office. Spencer can hear them speaking softly to each other and he pretends to be completely absorbed in checking next week's schedule when Jon walks across the hall and into his own office.
A second later, his telephone beeps and Jon's voice comes through the little speaker. "Spencer? Can I see you in my office? Greta will watch the phones."
Spencer stares at the phone for a minute before standing up, stashing his cell in a drawer, and making his way slowly to Jon's office.
He doesn't look at Jon while he takes a seat and Jon gets up and shuts the door, then takes the seat next to Spencer, on the wrong side of the desk. That startles Spencer into looking up. Jon's eyebrows are drawn, eyes hurt, and Spencer bites his lip, forces himself to stay silent.
Jon opens his mouth, then closes it, clears his throat and tries again. "Spence." Spencer clamps his teeth down harder around his bottom lip and looks away. Jon leans forward and curves his hand around Spencer's arm, and Spencer stares blindly down at his hand. "I don't know why you've been ignoring me all week, I don't know what I did wrong, but if you'd just tell me what I did..."
Spencer sighs and shakes Jon's hand off. "It's not --"
"It is," Jon insists, pressing closer so that their knees are touching. He puts a hand on Spencer's cheek, turning it to face him, stares at Spencer for a minute before saying, "Is this about Saturday night?"
Spencer rolls his eyes and turns his head away, and Jon drops his hand, but it lands on Spencer's knee. He can feel it, burning through his thin scrubs, and he wants to push it away, wants to shove his chair back and put some space between them, but he makes himself sit, still and indifferent.
Jon's voice sounds almost relieved when he says, "Spence, that was a joke. It was just. I was drunk, I was having fun."
Spencer winces at the memory of Jon, drunk and fumbling silly dance moves across the stage as he sang Rihanna's "Umbrella", eyes on Spencer every time he got to the chorus. Spencer mumbles, "It wasn't a joke, don't try to tell me that."
Sighing, Jon leans back, hand sliding off of Spencer's knee. He misses the contact immediately, and feels his cheeks flush with annoyance at that.
"You're right, it wasn't a joke," Jon says. "It was a gesture. A stupid, drunken gesture that definitely didn't deserve this kind of a reaction."
Frowning, Spencer meets Jon's gaze willingly, for the first time in nearly a week. "A gesture? What kind of gesture?"
Jon rolls his eyes and scoots forward in his chair until his shins are pressed against the side of Spencer's chair, bracing his hands on the seat on either side of Spencer before leaning in. "This kind of gesture."
Spencer barely has time to process what Jon is doing before Jon's lips are on his, and his eyes go wide before fluttering shut, hands coming up to clutch at Jon's shoulders. He makes a little noise before parting his lips and letting Jon lick into his mouth, slides his hands around to the back of Jon's neck and fists one in his hair, slips the other down the back of Jon's scrubs.
Humming, Jon inches back, says, "Seriously?" Spencer opens his eyes and blinks stupidly at Jon, confused. "You seriously didn't know? Everyone knew. Cash knew."
Rolling his eyes, Spencer says, "Maybe I'm not as perceptive as Cash."
"Why did I hire you, again?" Jon laughs.
Spencer squints at him. "I think it was because I was pretty?"
"Mmm," Jon murmurs, leaning back in. "True."
Spencer smiles against Jon's mouth. "You're such an asshole."
Jon nods, brushing his lips across Spencer's. "Also true."
Spencer sighs, pressing his palm flat against Jon's back and biting down on Jon's bottom lip. Jon groans and says, "Spencer Smith, I think you should come home with me right now."
Spencer's cheeks hurt from grinning so hard and he tilts his forehead against Jon's. "I think I can do that."