Fandom: Panic! at the Disco
Pairing: Brendon Urie / Spencer Smith
Rating: NC-17 overall.
Word count: 477 (this part) 74,000 (overall)
Notes: Thank you to hermette for the beta. Any remaining errors are my own. For ohohstarryeyed.
Further notes can be found in part one. Also posted here at AO3.
Accompanying mix available here.
Inspired by The Holiday. Sort of. Um.
Summary: It's three months later.
Previously: [I] [II] [III] [IV] [V] [VI] [VII] [VIII] [IX] [X] [XI] [XII] [XIII] [XIV] [XV] [XVI] [XVII]
"It's March twenty-fourth, motherfucker," Brendon sang as he let himself into their house. "March twenty-fourth, March twenty-fourth." He dumped two pizza boxes on the coffee table.
Spencer was instant-messaging Gareth on his laptop from the couch. "Gareth says hi," he said, as Brendon leaned over the back of the couch to kiss Spencer on the corner of his mouth. Spencer reached up to slide his hand into Brendon's hair, keeping him near. "He says he's learned a new chord."
"Awesome," Brendon said, grinning, leaning in to kiss Spencer hello again. "How many's that, now?"
"Six," Spencer said. "He can pretty much take over the world with six chords."
"Tell him that," Brendon said. "And then tell him that I love him, but I'm making you put the laptop down so we can go and have sex and eat pizza. In that order."
Spencer grinned and obediently typed the message into the window.
Gareth typed lollollol back, and then, hi, B. Bye, B. Have good sex. Griff says hi.
Brendon snorted and pushed down the lid of the laptop. "Come on," he said. "Upstairs. I want to blow you."
"Hmmmm," Spencer said, pretending to think about it. "I've lined up Mythbusters on Netflix."
"Upstairs," Brendon said, rolling his eyes. "Why am I with you, I don't even know."
"Because you love me," Spencer told him, letting himself be pushed upstairs. "You love me, and you want to blow me—"
"Yeah, yeah," Brendon said. He wrapped an arm around Spencer's waist, stumbling them both into the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, eyes going wide. "Holy shit, Spencer."
Spencer shrugged awkwardly. "It's March twenty-fourth. Three months."
In the middle of the bed was a ring box, a picture of the two of them in Wales, and a note that just said marry me for real this time in black sharpie.
Brendon's breath hitched and he wrapped his arms around Spencer's shoulders, burying his face in Spencer's neck. Spencer let out a breath and hugged back. It had been three months, and it hadn't always been easy, and it hadn't all been good days, but it was still by far the best relationship that Spencer had ever had. He loved Brendon, and it still felt like it had back in Wales. Like they were married already. That they were doing this backwards. That choosing to get married after three months wasn't too soon, it was way too late.
They'd already had the honeymoon, after all.
"Well?" Spencer said, after a moment. He was pretty sure he couldn't bear not knowing any longer. "Marry me?"
"Motherfucker," Brendon said, without pulling away. "I was going to ask you."
Spencer snorted, and tilted Brendon's chin up, leaning in to press a kiss to Brendon's open mouth. "So," he said. "You have any idea where you want to go for our honeymoon?"