The High Place - Bandom, R, Brendon/Spencer.

[gorgeousnerd]

Title: The High Place
Fandom: Bandom: Panic! at the Disco (with background MCR, FOB, and Cobra Starship)
Rating: R
Length: 12,150 words.
Characters/Pairings: Brendon/Spencer (with background Frank/Mikey and Ray/Gerard)

Content notes (skip) Past rape/abuse briefly discussed (not between any romantic pairing), violence, drug use similar to pot (with liberties taken)

Summary: Even after the battle that destroyed the local branch of Manticore, Seattle was much kinder to Brendon than the secret military organization that created him and his friends. Could his newfound freedom lead to something as awesome as love? (Dark Angel AU)

Author's notes: Also on AO3 and LJ.

For bandombigbang 2012, Wave Three. This story mostly stands alone, but if you're not familiar with Dark Angel, it will definitely help to read Crash first. I also played fast and loose with the accuracy of the drug use in this story, but this is about cat people in the future and is based on people who play in bands, so I hope the whole thing is taken as what it is: fiction.

Thanks to andeincascade for the absolutely stellar beta job (and putting up with my anxious emails), rahnekat for the Dark Angel DVD loan, my younger sister for gifting me her DVD set, and my mom for listening to my brainstorming and laughing at the title when I told her about it. (I come by it honestly.)

Bonus Tracks/Enhanced Content

Fanart:
Three pieces by quintenttsy

Fanmix:
The High Place by fluffysnow




"Dinner time!" Brendon waved a bag of food in the air as he strode into the kitchen.

Ian narrowed his eyes. "If that's kibble again, you're eating it."

"You really think I'd feed you dog food?" Brendon set the bag carefully on the granite counter. The penthouse had marble, but they'd moved to a house with more resilient fixtures not long after busting Frank out of Manticore. Mikey said granite was totally okay for scuffing, but it was still really nice. "You really think I'd feed you dog food?"

"So you didn't bring home a doggie bag?"

Oops. "That's leftovers, right? I got this to-go. That means–"

Ian waved a hand as he dug through the bag, sniffing experimentally. "Just because I'm stuck here doesn't mean I don't know shit."

"Right." Brendon clapped him on the back on his way to the stairs. "Enjoy!"

Brendon liked the new house. It didn't really match Mikey and Gerard's personality - too rich in its furnishing, and a lot of wood like the penthouse - but it was one of the few places in Seattle that would match their income level and fit all of them. Which was apparently a necessity for the secret identity thing. Brendon thought all the X5s and Ian under one roof kind of blew that out of the water, but it was a massive upgrade from government barracks, so he wasn't going to complain.

It didn't stop Frank. He always grumbled about it being an upscale cabin, but whatever, Frank was part cat and didn't eat meat. Clearly he was weird. Never mind that Brendon dabbled with a vegetarian diet when he first left Manticore a couple months back; bacon existed and was therefore better than all things green.

Brendon jogged up the stairs and into the master bedroom at human speed. It was weird taking the biggest spot in the house, especially with windows that showed the trees in the neighborhood so well, but Mikey insisted on converting the garage so Frank could park his bike where they slept, and Gerard was downright pleased to live in the basement so Ray could soundproof it and play guitar all day and night. But even then, Gerard hadn't wanted to take the house.

"You guys have never had your own rooms!" he'd said when he and Mikey had showed the others the pictures they'd taken on their tour. "It's so awesome!"

Frank had nodded sagely. "Yeah. You can jerk off whenever you want."

Gerard had blushed, but even though Brendon took his point - it wasn't always fun whacking off in the shower, particularly after Frank stole all the hot water - it was nice having Spencer in the bed next to him. He'd spent most of his life listening to Spencer breathe in the night. It would be too quiet without him.

Before Brendon could flop on his bed - which was twice as big as the cot in Manticore, and sinfully soft - he spotted something on the pillow. A postcard? Who would send him mail?

He flipped it over, read the sentences scrawled on the back, and grinned like a complete dork.

-

As Brendon clung to the elevator track, he hoped it was just his imagination that the Space Needle was creaking in the breeze.

Judging by the shattered wrecks of the elevators at the bottom, they hadn't worked since the Pulse. It would stop a normal person; a good decade of abuse on a structure isn't something to ignore. But Brendon wasn't normal, and he could spot a light at the top of the building with his enhanced vision, so he heaved himself up, breeze and all.

The light got brighter as he crossed a graffiti-covered wreck of a room toward a section without windows. And then the light shone in his face.

"Identify yourself," a deep voice rumbled.

Brendon flipped up his middle finger. "That good enough?"

The flashlight dropped, and as Brendon's eyes adjusted, a smirking Spencer came into view.

"You trimmed your beard," Brendon said.

Spencer shrugged and set the flashlight on the windowsill. It cast a gentle golden light and was much softer than most flashlights Brendon had seen. "It's the length I want."

"Looks good." Brendon peeked his head over the edge. The roof was missing some tiles, but Spencer seemed pretty steady on it.

"You coming out?"

Brendon snorted. "I like my neck solid, thanks."

"Chicken." But Spencer grabbed the flashlight and climbed inside. "It's too windy for this outside anyway."

"For what?"

Spencer pulled out a bag and made a flourishing gesture with his hand. Brendon leaned toward it and squinted.

"Is that pot?" he asked, sniffing. The plastic kept him from getting a good whiff, sadly.

"Please. You think I'd waste my time on that, after what Frank said?"

Brendon shrugged. "I figured he just hadn't tried enough. I can get tipsy on a lot of vodka sometimes."

"This isn't Manticore," Spencer said, pulling open the bag. "They sell weed at the pharmacies, and it's fucking cheap. If we were trying that, I'd have more than a dusting."

Brendon took another sniff, and whoa. His eyes fluttered shut, and he arched his neck a little, almost like he was trying to rub against the bag.

He shook his head and laughed. "How'd you get your hands on that?"

Spencer grinned. He handed the bag to Brendon and reached into his pocket. "Frank mentioned to Pete that catnip was a dangerous thing for young X5s who hadn't been in the world to have. So Pete gave it to Frank, and Frank gave it to us."

"The cops confiscate catnip?" Brendon snorted. From what Ray told him, the Pulse had made a lot of luxuries hard to find. Sure, catnip had been one of them, but it seemed like a waste for the police to handle.

"Guess it makes a racket on the black market, and it's one of the things people are more willing to turn over when they get busted." Spencer's eyes sparkled. "So Frank agreed to share the wealth whenever it goes his way. After all, he has to get rid of it responsibly."

"Of course," Brendon said solemnly. Man, he knew Frank would feel like he owed them for life after they made sure his pills got to him, but he never thought it'd be so awesome.

He extended the bag when Spencer reached for it, and Spencer carefully dropped some of the leaves into a rolling paper. "Frank showed me how to do this. I hope I don't screw it up."

"You won't."

And Brendon was right. The cylinder looked like an honest-to-goodness joint when he was done.

"Oh," Brendon said. "That's why we're meeting here."

Spencer raised an eyebrow.

"Gerard?"

"Oh yeah," Spencer agreed with a nod. "Frank won't even smoke up at the penthouse, so he made me promise we'd go somewhere else."

"So you picked the High Place?"

Spencer laughed. "Think it's called the Space Needle."

Brendon shoved Spencer's shoulder, but he laughed, too. He hadn't called anything the High Place since he was a little kid, but it kind of fit.

"Speaking of..." Spencer pat at his pockets for a second before hanging his head. "Shit."

"No lighter, huh?"

"Shut up."

Brendon grinned. "Luckily for you, I am always prepared."

He pulled out a lighter from his pocket. In a house with chain smokers, it was easier to have something ready than hunt something down when the whining inevitably started. He even smoked with Gerard or Frank occasionally, but tobacco wasn't really his thing.

As Brendon lit the flame, Spencer held the joint forward until the tip glowed. He puffed the other end a couple times before drawing back, eyes wide. "Wow. That's a kick."

"Can I try?"

Spencer rolled his eyes. "No, I just brought you here so I could have an audience. Here, take a drag."

Brendon took the joint. It smelled a little like mint this close to his nose. It stunk almost as much as pot - he passed enough head shops in Sector 1 to know that it was kind of gross - but the smell of weed didn't make his head fuzzy, either.

He put the joint to his mouth and inhaled.

"Now keep the smoke in your lungs for a second so it can take effect."

It itched a little, but Brendon managed it. Even though he coughed a little when he breathed out.

He blinked. "I don't feel anything."

"You might not. Ray doesn't."

"I thought he didn't smoke because of Gerard."

Spencer shook his head. "He told me he tried once before he met Gerard. Just made his clothes smell like ass."

Brendon looked down sadly at his outfit. He didn't even think of that.

"Come on, don't bogart." Spencer took the joint back.

"Heh. Bogart. That's an awesome word." It felt good in his mouth. "Bo. Gart."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I'd think you were getting high, except you always act like this."

Brendon sneered as Spencer took another hit.

-

They only made it halfway down the joint before Spencer stubbed it out. As it turned out, that was more than plenty.

"Do you really need to rub all over me?" The words came out of Spencer's mouth a little slow, a little slurred.

Brendon nodded seriously and arched his body and rolled next to Spencer. "You're just so great, Spencer. You shared with me."

"I knew that the first ten times you said it."

"But you did."

Spencer didn't look like he was high. Or different at all. He was attractive, obviously, but that was a given. The beard made him look less like jailbait than Brendon, which sucked because Brendon still got carded for everything. At least Mikey had hooked him up with a decent fake ID.

Of course, when Spencer reached over to bat Brendon away, he ended up pawing clumsily at him. He was probably just good at hiding being stoned.

"How are we getting back down?" Spencer said, frowning. "I can't climb like this."

"We can sleep it off. No big."

Spencer eyed the rest of the floor around them. And okay, maybe his what-the-fuck expression was well-earned. There were still shards of broken glass from whatever had broken the windows, and there were chunks of concrete and rebar here and there. But whatever, the area they were on was clear.

"'S way better than that one training mission," Brendon said, eyelids heavy. He snuggled up next to Spencer. "The one with all the snow and ice?"

Spencer huffed a laugh. It sounded a little dorkier than his usual, but then, he was always kind of a dweeb. That's why Brendon liked him. "The one where you nearly got your dick stuck to a tree?"

"What? I was just peeing."

"By touching a tree trunk with Little Brendon?"

"Hey," Brendon huffed. "He's not little."

Spencer waved a hand dismissively. And then he kept moving it, and it was only after a second that he blinked and shook his head slightly. "You're lucky you've still got anything down there."

"You're lucky you're such an asshole."

"You love my asshole." He slung an arm around Brendon's shoulders, and Brendon snuggled closer.

"Seriously?" Brendon asked, but Spencer just grunted a little and started snoring.

Brendon let his eyelids drop and snickered a little. Love Spencer's asshole. What the hell.

-

He didn't know if it was his genetic cocktail or just the way his brain worked, but Brendon always dreamed in memories. And not the confused jumble humans were supposed to have; it was clear, specific recall. Considering most of his memories were of Manticore, it kind of sucked, but it wasn't like he had much control over it.

The night he slept in the High Place, he remembered the first room he'd slept in. He was young, pre-Pulse young, small enough to share a twin bed with Brent, who always slept soundly through the night.

Frank, crouching over Brendon's bed and putting a finger to his mouth to make sure Brendon stayed quiet, was also young. He didn't have any of the non-barcode tattoos he sported these days, and his hair was the same nearly-bald buzz that everyone else his age had sported. But the cocky smirk was exactly the same.

"Wanna see something cool?" he whispered so quietly that Brendon, right next to Frank's head, could barely hear it.

Brendon nodded; he'd pretty much walk across nails if Frank said he liked it. He pushed out of his warm blanket and tiptoed across the chilly tile behind Frank.

It was a dream, but Brendon was aware enough to remember how this played out seconds before his brain sent him the visuals. How Frank peeled back the chicken wire and carefully loosened one of the bars on the window. The way Brendon and Frank balanced on the ledge until they made it to the drain pipe. How they'd climbed up to the roof and bent down to keep out of view of the guard tower's light.

They stopped once they reached a maintenance door. It provided just enough shelter for a few people to sit with their backs to it and look out at the rest of the buildings and the trees beyond.

"Wow," Brendon whispered. He'd never gotten to look without training in mind. He didn't have to read the breeze to see how best to stay downwind, and he didn't have to read the stars to find his location, and he didn't have to stay in formation or anything like that. "This is..."

"I know," Frank said after Brendon didn't finish. "I do this every couple weeks. Best way to find my path out."

Brendon knew Frank would leave. Even if he didn't bust out of Manticore soon, he'd be moved into a room with all the X5s his age before long; they were getting to the age where they were expected to "assume responsibility for each other". Which was another way of saying "narc on the kids who disobey orders", and it was kind of funny, considering they were also supposed to watch each other's backs. Either way, even the people too scared to stick their necks out knew better than to rat, and people like Frank taught the younger ones everything they needed to know.

Brendon had always been good at watching out for himself. But he was young, and the thought of Frank leaving made him sick.

He ignored his churning stomach and asked, "But why show me?"

Frank grinned. "You'll figure something out."

And then they'd had a gross noise competition for hours, the sound eaten up by the building around them. Brendon laughed in his dream until he woke up, and a smile stayed on his lips as he and Spencer climbed down the elevator track while the sun rose.

-

The best part about Nomalie hunting was exploring the city.

"This isn't exploring the city," Spencer whispered as they rounded a trash can. "This is running around every rundown piece of crap in Sector 6."

Okay, Spencer had a point. But even Nomalies had common sense. They couldn't go in the sectors with a lot of electricity or security, which mostly left Sector 6.

"Still better than sitting around Manticore," Brendon whispered back. Spencer conceded with a nod and a shrug.

When a shadow briefly blocked the firelight illuminating their alley, they both froze and crouched. Show time. Spencer took just a second to wave a hand before disappearing into the side shadows, and Brendon straightened.

"Why don't you come out?" Brendon said. He kept his voice low - a lot of Nomalies bolted with loud noise - but he made himself heard. "I won't hurt you."

"No," a voice from the shadow said. "You'll just ssssend me back to Manticore, X5."

Brendon held up his hands. They were gloved, but empty. Spencer insisted on packing, but Brendon wasn't carrying so much as a knife. "I don't work for them."

A figure stepped out. It was taller than Brendon, he could tell that much, but even with his kickass cat vision, it was too dark to make out more.

"And I'm sssssupposed to believe that?"

Brendon shook his head. "You've got no reason to trust me. I know."

The figure got closer, and...oh, scales? And a flicking tongue. Huh.

"If I did trusssst you," the snake man said, tilting his head, "what would—"

Before he could answer, he's flat on the ground with a cry of alarm. Brendon jumped back, ready to spring for the silhouette perched on the snake's back when—

"Spencer?" He threw his hands in the air. "What the fuck? Not the plan!"

The plan was the same as always: let Brendon communicate in whatever way the Nomalie could handle. Yeah, sometimes they got jumped. But this wasn't even close to one of those times, and Spencer's got his arm across the snake dude's throat anyway. Although the snake guy let out some kind of neck frill in response, like a cobra. That was kind of cool. Or it would be in another situation.

"He was blocking you from view," Spencer said casually, only forcing words when the snake guy struggled under his grip. "I didn't want to give him any chances."

Brendon stepped up and smacked Spencer's arm. "I was getting somewhere! He'll never trust us now."

"I might," the snake man choked out, "if you let me up."

Spencer dug his arm in, but when Brendon pulled on his shoulder, Spencer let himself be dragged to his feet. He didn't back off much, but it was enough for Brendon to help Snake Dude into a sitting position.

"You okay?" Brendon asked.

The snake man nodded and rubbed his neck until the frill retracted. Actually, scales aside, he looked nearly human. Must be from a series that was inching toward covert. "Jusssst usually have a few drinks before I get that close to someone new."

Brendon snickered, and Snake Guy smirked as he pushed into a standing position.

"Been watching you guyssss for a couple weekssss now," he said. He stuck out his tongue and rubbed it a little. "Sorry, I haven't talked in a while. Hissing all over the fucking place."

"You got a name?"

"Gabe," he said, shaking Brendon's hand. "When I'm not king of the Cobras."

King? That sounded promising. Brendon let Gabe hook an arm around his shoulder, and he ignored a weird sound from Spencer's direction as they walked to Patrick's car.

-

"What happened then?"

Brendon grinned as he leaned back in his chair. Spencer was carefully not watching their table and focusing on Mikey and Frank playing pool in the corner, which was fine with Brendon. If Gabe hadn't been Gabe, Spencer might've gotten both their throats torn out. Jerk.

"He took us to his lair," Brendon said to answer Ray's question. "Had a couple of other Nomalies hanging out. I guess they were trying to set up some kind of network."

Gerard was pressed against Ray, eyes bright. "Awesome."

"That's what Pete said. I guess he and Gabe hit it off." That was putting it mildly. Pete had asked if Gabe had a human dick, and when Gabe whipped it out, Pete seemed ready to propose marriage on the spot. Brendon had flinched, but when he'd looked pointedly at Patrick, Patrick had shrugged and said, "That's Pete for you."

"He have something in mind for the Nomalies you've tracked down yet?" Ray asked, tracing the rim of his soda glass with his thumb. Brendon didn't have much experience with drinks yet, but there was something about the fizziness and weird colors of soda that seemed vaguely suspicious, so he stuck to water. Or booze, but not when he was sitting with Gerard, usually.

"Dunno. Spence?"

"Huh?" Spencer was still staring at the pool tables.

"Earth to catboy." Brendon waved his hand in Spencer's face. "You were with Patrick last. He say anything about Pete's grand and glorious plans?"

Spencer batted away Brendon's hand. "I don't speak Pete even through a Patrick translator."

"I should call him," Gerard said, dropping his head against Ray's shoulder. "Brian's usually my cop, but if Pete's taking charge on this, I shouldn't leave it to Mikey."

He and Ray went on for a second about their Nomalie thoughts, but Brendon didn't really have anything to add, so he slid closer in the booth toward Spencer. Spencer jumped.

"Dude," Brendon said in a quiet voice. "You okay? I was just giving you a hard time."

Spencer blinked. "What? I'm fine."

"C'mon, you've been jumpy. Spill."

Spencer's cheeks turned pink, but before he could say anything, Frank bounced up to the table. His hair was solid black and cropped close these days, but Brendon could see people giving Frank a look over his shoulder. It was probably the visible tattoos, which stuck out even in a bar like Crash. Or maybe people were just checking him out.

"Mikey kicked my ass again," he said. "Tell me someone can take the motherfucker down."

Gerard sighed. "You know we all suck at eight-ball."

"No, I know you suck. And I know Ray doesn't like to try." Frank beamed at Brendon and Spencer. "But I don't know how these two spend their free hours."

"Because we've had so many of them," Brendon said. Between getting out of lifelong imprisonment just a few months ago and hunting down his fellow genetic experiments most nights, if he was some kind of pool shark, he would've had to learn during the hours he usually reserved for sleep. And he doesn't sleep much as it is.

Frank stuck out his lower lip. "Can you at least try and make me feel better about losing all the time?"

Brendon was about to say something like, "No one can lose as much as you" or "My ego's fine where it is, thanks" when Spencer stood up.

"I'll play," he said.

Frank nearly tackled Spencer in his quest to hug him before running back to the table. Mikey turned his mostly expressionless face in their direction as he collected the balls from the pockets.

"Have you ever played?" Brendon asked as he slid out of the booth.

"A couple times," Spencer said as they walked over. He took Frank's stick from him. "This a betting game?"

Mikey raised an eyebrow. "Can be."

Spencer pulled a twenty from his pocket. "How does this work?"

"We break the formation," Mikey said, putting his own twenty on the edge of the table. Spencer set his on top. "Whatever ball sinks first gives you stripes or solids. You sink as many as you can in one turn, and when you miss, it's my turn. When all yours are in, you go for the eight ball, and you call what pocket it goes into."

"Who breaks?" Spencer asked.

Mikey took the rack away carefully, making sure not to knock the balls on the table out of their shape, and hung it under the table. "We flip for it."

Brendon resisted the urge to snort as Spencer took a quarter out of his pocket; tosses were pretty easy to rig. Which was why he was completely unsurprised when Mikey called heads and the coin flipped tails. But Mikey didn't seem surprised either, so maybe that was the point. If Frank sucked so hard at pool, Mikey was the kind of guy who would give him an extra edge.

Spencer positioned himself in front of the white ball and balanced his stick - "Cue," Frank whispered to Brendon, shifting his weight from foot to foot - on the edge of the table. It looked...awkward. Not the carefully expert pose that Mikey rocked so hard. Spencer tilted the cue a couple different ways and frowned, stepping back.

"Want me to do it?" Mikey asked.

Spencer shook his head. He leaned in and exhaled. When his right hand slid the cue through his left, the white ball struck the rest with a satisfying crack. Four balls sunk right away; two more inched their way in after.

Brendon's jaw dropped. Frank clapped his hands. And Spencer. Spencer smiled.

"Dude," Frank whispered after Spencer moved around the table a few times, nudging Brendon. "You're staring."

He shook himself a little, but his eyes were still fixed on Spencer's lips, curled as he bent over the table again. It wasn't like Brendon hadn't seen it before, but this smile was fucking dazzling.

Spencer didn't give much ground after that. Mikey got two turns, which he used to sink his solids in a very neat way. He got his first turn only because the white ball went in the pocket after one of Spencer's stripes, which apparently wasn't supposed to happen. The second turn came when Frank not-so-subtly bumped the table with his hip.

"What?" Frank said when Brendon glared. "Just because this is good for my self-esteem doesn't mean I'm not on Mikey's side."

But overall, Spencer dominated easily, only taking seconds between moves to line up and shoot. It was just a couple breathless minutes between Spencer breaking and Spencer gesturing with his cue and saying, "Eight ball, side pocket" in front of where Brendon and Frank stood.

Brendon gave Spencer his best holy-crap-where-did-this-come-from smile when Spencer looked up from the table. Spencer smiled back, but it faded when he tilted his head thoughtfully for a second. Brendon was about to ask if something was wrong when Spencer leaned over the pool table slowly, much more slowly than he was moving all night, and...

...wow. That was Spencer's ass, just a couple feet in front of Brendon.

Brendon had taken Spencer's hotness for a given for years. It didn't matter what Spencer looked like; he was just one of the best people in the entire world, and, therefore, hot. But it was always an in-Brendon's-head deal. Probably because he's never had Spencer bent in front of him before, his back long, his ass curved and round and dear sweet Blue Lady was he going to the Nomalies for this one.

Frank yelped in Brendon's ear, and all of a sudden, Spencer's ass was gone. Well, it was still there, but Spencer was standing and grinning at Frank and Brendon and pointing his ass firmly away from Brendon's eyeballs.

"Good game," Spencer said, scooping up the money. He licked his lips and winked at Brendon.

Wow.

-

"So, sex," Brendon said.

Mikey lowered his music magazine and raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"I've, uh, heard you've had a lot of it?" Brendon cringed a little, but Mikey gave a one-shouldered shrug as if to say duh, so Brendon went on. "I was just wondering if you'd clear up a couple points for me."

"It wasn't part of your training?" Right. Sleeping with an X5 for months. Of course Frank would say something.

Brendon shook his head. "Maybe if you got sent out on missions, but I...well. I got the basics. 'Don't bang the ones with boobs if you don't want to knock them up.' That kind of thing."

"Really?"

That didn't come from Mikey; a wide-eyed Gerard rounded the corner not long after speaking and sat on Mikey's feet. Mikey kicked until Gerard shifted and Mikey could pull his feet out again.

"Why?" Brendon asked. "Is that weird?"

Gerard frowned. "I guess not, but it's so...heterocentric."

"I'll let you handle this one, Gee." Mikey scrambled to his feet with a little smile on his face.

"Huh?" But Mikey was already halfway to the converted garage by the time Gerard looked around. He flapped a hand in Mikey's direction.

"I'll tell you everything," Gerard said. "Partially because my brother's being a jerk, but these are things you should know."

Brendon held up a hand to stop him. Gerard deflated a little.

"Can I take notes?" Brendon asked.

Gerard beamed.

-

After the day of diagrams and enthusiastic lecture, it was no surprise that Brendon dreamed about Spencer that night.

Spencer was around Brendon's age. But in the memory, when the guard tower's light illuminated his face, it was impossible to tell he was around ten and not young enough to be kept in a room with the older X5s.

He stirred a little when Brendon nudged him. Ryan, in the bed next to him, muttered darkly but stayed asleep. When Spencer's eyes opened, they were brilliant even in the near darkness.

"You didn't get dinner," Brendon said as quietly as possible while making sure Spencer could still hear him. No one in the room would tell, but adults still guarded the hallways nearby.

Spencer shook his head and glanced at Ryan.

Sibling-related words had meant little when they were taught about family units in their classes...beyond knowing which people would be the most emotionally vulnerable to a potential target, of course. Spencer and Ryan had been in the same group to start with, but despite the fact that they looked nothing alike, there was something about their relationship that said "brothers". Or even "twins", if the way they communicated outside official gestures was any way to tell.

The grown-ups didn't miss it. Which was why, when Ryan had mouthed off to the teacher, Spencer had been the one sent to clean the bathrooms and miss their time in the mess hall. And why their CO had stood by Ryan's part of the table while he'd eaten dinner and spoken loudly about bedding assignments.

"Come on," Brendon whispered, taking Spencer by the hand. Spencer didn't budge, and for a second, Brendon wondered if he'd go to a guard, maybe buy a little security. But after a couple of tense heartbeats, Spencer stood and followed Brendon back to his bed.

The window behind Brendon's bed was the same window he'd had his entire life; they moved the rest of the X5s his age in when they were deemed old enough not to get in trouble. Frank and Ray were gone, but not forgotten; Brendon still sat with them at meals, and, of course, there was still the little trick of opening the window that Frank had showed him when he was younger.

And so Brendon showed Spencer the same trick very quietly, climbing out toward the drainpipe. He waited for a second on the wall, wondering if Spencer would be scared, but Spencer followed without hesitation, nodding up at Brendon until Brendon started climbing again.

Once on the roof, they crawled quietly until Brendon reached his little maintenance door. While Spencer sat out of sight, Brendon carefully stood until he could reach under the eaves and grab the bag of food he'd stashed a couple days ago. A lot of it was meant to last, but there was a piece of bread that definitely had to be eaten.

When Brendon held it out, Spencer took it and tore into it without hesitation. Never mind their lessons about poison, about how disobeying orders is the ultimate in traitorous acts. Spencer groaned quietly and chewed and didn't seem scared of anything.

He was the bravest person Brendon had ever met.

-

After two nights of pouring over notebook pages and a laptop Gerard had lent him, Brendon still wasn't particularly ready when he got another note from Spencer on top of his pillow.

It wasn't a love note, or even a friendly "hey, come here" like most friends probably gave each other. It was coordinates written in a cypher. The cypher was different than the one Spencer had used to get Brendon to the Space Needle several days before. They'd never used the same cypher twice in Manticore. Maybe Brendon was a complete dork, but he kind of loved that Spencer was keeping it up.

By the time Brendon made it out of the house and to the base of their pot-smoking sanctuary, the wind was even higher than it had been the last time. It looked like the whole place was swaying.

"Just your imagination," Brendon muttered, and he wriggled in place to psych himself up for a few minutes before taking a running leap for the elevator track.

Maybe the whole structure swaying was just his imagination, but the leftover cables on hanging next to where Brendon was climbing definitely whipped back and forth in the wind. Each time they hit metal, they clanked loudly, and when Brendon wasn't ducking out of the way, his fingers dug in so much he bent the metal in several places. Looking at how small the ground was beneath him didn't help.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." The wind carried the sound away from his ears almost entirely, and he was frozen next to the cables, his heart pounding in his ears. "Just...Spencer. Go for Spencer."

Brendon closed his eyes. This way, he could picture Spencer like he was climbing next to him, grinning that pool-table smile. Brendon loosened his fingers and did the rest of the climb with Spencer behind his eyelids. Better-than-human senses and ridiculous amounts of training had its upsides sometimes.

He took a minute at the top to breathe and to soothe the cramps out of his hands. Seduction was better if a guy didn't look like he was about to die from panic. On the plus side, no big deal actually doing the seducing, right?

"Right," Brendon whispered, making sure his hair wasn't too ridiculous. He squared his shoulders and rounded the half-wall that kept him hidden from the rest of the room.

Spencer was waiting on a block of rubble. They could both see pretty well in the dark, but even so, he'd brought a golden lamp along. It made his skin glow and his already awesome body look even more awesome.

When he spotted Brendon, he grinned. "So."

Brendon grinned back. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, and he rocked back and forth on his feet. "So."

"Did you bring snacks this time? Because if we have to stop in a Sector 1 store when we're high again–"

"No!" Brendon said quickly.

Spencer cocked his head and stood. "So you'll just lick your arm again? That didn't work very well last time."

Brendon tried telling himself that rolling his eyes was a sucky seduction technique. It didn't keep him doing it. There were way worse things than slobbering on your own skin, especially when Brendon's tasted so fucking delicious.

But still. Not the point. He tried to focus. Gerard had been very clear: no propositioning when high, and he had to get a very clear yes from Spencer. But now that he was here, he realized Gerard hadn't mentioned any good ways to bring up sex in the first place. But he was a trained soldier and spy, so something good had to come to mind.

"Um, you're hot?"

Maybe not.

"Thanks?" Spencer frowned.

"I mean, uh. When you were playing pool. I noticed...fuck."

Spencer's puzzled look faded, and a smile slowly took its place. "Brendon Urie, are you propositioning me?"

Brendon scratched the back of his head. Spencer hadn't used his last name much, not since they'd picked them in their first week out. It shouldn't be hot, but the low tone of amusement made Brendon's skin flush. He liked it.

"I am," he said finally, making sure it didn't sound like a question. Enthusiasm on both sides, that's what Gerard had said. "If you want me to. Otherwise, no, we're just friends."

"Smooth."

Brendon grinned. Actually, it kind of was. For him. "Thanks."

Spencer pushed off from the rubble and closed the space between them. Brendon's heart started to beat hard again, but in a good way.

"Let's just...take this slow, okay?" Spencer asked.

"Slow?"

Spencer nodded, and wow, he was close enough that Brendon could feel Spencer's breath on his cheek. It was all he could do to keep from rubbing up against Spencer like a cat. Even though he didn't think it was the feline DNA causing it.

Okay. Spencer was close enough to touch, and Brendon knew he should try kissing him. Kissing wasn't hard. Was it? It was just...lips. On lips. Spencer's very, very nice lips.

Spencer's hand touched his. Brendon jumped, and he hated himself immediately. Fuck, they've touched more than this before. But just the way Spencer laced their fingers and pressed their palms together felt downright full-frontal, and Brendon couldn't help but shiver.

"Slow," Spencer said in a low tone, smiling. He licked his lips - and hey, he was looking at Brendon's lips, that had to be a good sign - and drew his free hand over the back of Brendon's cheek. Brendon's eyes fluttered closed as Spencer leaned in.

Sure enough, it was nothing more than lips touching lips. Well, not much more. Brendon opened his mouth a little in a sigh, and Spencer moved with him, and that was enough to get Brendon tingling head-to-toe. Who knew his lips in particular would get so tingly? It was like they were falling asleep, but in a much more sexy way.

But it was just...nice. Spencer smelled good, like soap with a nice layer of sweat, and he was warm and amazing. More than that, he actually wanted to be touching Brendon. That had never happened to him before.

Spencer pulled back, and Brendon opened his eyes again.

"Ready to get high?" Spencer asked.

"Oh." He hasn't pulled his hand out of Brendon's, but... "That's it?"

"For now. You're already shaking."

It was true. Brendon's teeth were even chattering a little. But before he could step back from Spencer, he asked, "We're doing that again, though. Right?"

Spencer ducked his head. Even the flush of his cheeks was fucking hot. "Definitely."

Brendon grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.

-

The nice thing about leaving Manticore? Choosing your own sleep schedule. When Brendon's eyes fluttered open the next day, it was sunset, and he never would've gotten away with that before. Their curtains blocked out the light pretty well, especially when the sky was as clouded over as usual, but the silvers of orange glowing on the walls were a pretty good indicator to wake up.

Brendon sat up with a yawn and paused. It turned out the light also illuminated Spencer on the bed across from him. He was smiling a little in his sleep, and if he woke him up, he could see the way the sun would make his eyes glow.

Fuck, Spencer was fucking beautiful. And he liked Brendon.

Brendon took a minute to hug his pillow in delight before climbing quietly out of bed and padding down to the kitchen. He could hear something on the TV in the living room, so after grabbing his bowl of chocolate sugar clusters, it was a no-brainer to head in that direction.

Ian was on the main couch and playing some kind of nature program on the TV. He was also scratching behind his ear pretty vigorously with his foot, and Brendon didn't need any seasoning for his cereal, so he sat in a chair nearby.

"Hey," Ian said after Brendon ate a couple bites, lowering his leg. "Gerard was looking for you."

"Yeah?"

Ian nodded. "Down in the basement."

Which meant work. Cool. Brendon grinned with cheeks stuffed with cereal, and Ian grimaced away. "Just go before I puke," he said.

If Brendon wasn't in such a good mood, he might mash the cereal in his mouth a little more and stick out his tongue. Luckily for Ian, he was happy enough to swallow first. Ian sneered back and went back to scratching.

Brendon set his cereal on the coffee table and jogged over to the basement door. The little button to bring up the retinal scanner and the speaker was as easy as ever to find, and when his eye turned up okay, Gerard's voice asked, "Who's there?"

"Brendon. Ian said you were looking for me?"

The door slid open, and Brendon jumped forward before it closed two seconds later. Gerard never liked keeping things open for long.

The basement didn't look much like a basement, or the basements Brendon saw in films at Manticore, anyway. There were real walls and paint and carpet just as nice as anything upstairs. The only difference between the basement and the other rooms were the tiny windows at the top of the far wall, which were, of course, locked and plastered over for security reasons.

When Brendon bounced down the stairs, he saw Gerard was only illuminated by green light from his computer monitors. Actually, that was how the whole place was lit up. Kind of creepy.

"Yo," Brendon said.

Gerard waved a hand. Brendon leaned over and peeked at the monitors, watching as blurry night-vision footage ran. If he couldn't see much with better vision, it was no wonder Gerard was hunched over.

"You have work?"

Gerard moved the mouse until a bar appeared, and when he dragged a button to the left, the footage moved back in time. "Look."

Brendon leaned in closer as Gerard pressed play. He could kind of make out a sidewalk, and a guy with an umbrella walking. Well, until said guy got jumped by...a blur. It wasn't until it slowed that Brendon could see two heads, which narrowed things down.

"I've never seen a Nomalie like that before," Brendon said, squinting.

On the screen, the Nomalie was clawing at the man, who was trying to beat his attacker with an umbrella. It wasn't working. It was only when other people showed up that the Nomalie blurred and disappeared again.

"Fuck." Brendon eased back. "Everyone always talked about violent Nomalies, but the ones I met were always really nice."

Gerard swiveled his chair away from the computer. "See, that's the weird part. He's one of Jamia's finds. He even registered with Pete three weeks ago."

"Really?"

"And it's not the first one, either. We got a verbal report like this on Sunday, but Mikey figured it was just a bad call on Brian's part. Or a one-time thing."

"And this isn't?"

Gerard leaned back in his chair. His eyes were puffy, so Pete probably woke him up hours ago. "Don't think so. But we're going to get intel before we're sure."

"I can do intel."

But Gerard shook his head quickly. "We've got this covered. I just wanted to see if you'd run into this in Manticore."

"I didn't." Brendon frowned. "But Spencer and I can find someone who knows something. You know that."

Gerard blinked a couple times. "Did you talk to Spencer? About what we talked about?"

"What we..." Brendon wasn't going to blush. He was a soldier. Or a spy. Or whatever. "Oh. Uh, yeah."

"And it went okay?"

"It was a start." Definitely a start. A very sexy start.

Gerard laughed. Brendon rubbed at his cheeks a little, but it wasn't enough to get the blushing to stop, unfortunately.

"So take the night off," Gerard said. "It's like you said at the club. You guys have been working your non-existent tails off. You need downtime more than I do."

Brendon wasn't so sure about that - Gerard looked like he could nod off on top of his desk - but the guy could be stubborn when he wanted to be. And Brendon definitely wouldn't say no to another night with Spencer. "You'll call if something changes?"

"You'll be the first to hear. Now go get laid."

Brendon blushed some more. Gerard giggled.

Evil bastard.

-

The inside of the High Place was really fucking trashed. It wasn't like Brendon hadn't noticed before, but while he unfolded the blankets he'd carried up in a backpack, his boots crunched down broken glass and bits of metal. A broom would work better than kicking the crud away, but whatever, it wasn't like he'd thought to bring one of those up with him.

"They really gave us the night off?" Spencer asked, pulling a shiny metal tube out of his own backpack.

"They really did. What the hell is that?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow as he screwed the top open. "Dude, we used these to carry water at Manticore. You don't remember?"

"I remember." It had kept everything chilled, which would've been nice if they hadn't been training in the snow more often than not. But judging by the way the top steamed as he poured water into cups, that wasn't the point. "Why'd you bring it?"

"Because you sounded really hoarse after we smoked up last time." Spencer pulled a couple of silver spheres out of a sandwich bag and stuck them in the cups.

Brendon blinked.

"It's hot water. We can use the catnip for tea, once it steeps. Should be a lot nicer on your throat."

"Oh." And he was blushing again. Whatever, Spencer was fucking romantic as shit. Brendon could go with it. "I think I need to stick my tongue down your throat now."

Spencer laughed, crinkling his nose. "Sexy."

But he shifted away from the tea and his backpack and slid next to Brendon. His pupils were huge, which, yay, good sign. Brendon sighed as Spencer cupped his cheek in a hand, and a chill danced along Brendon's skin that had nothing to do with the air coming through the broken windows. At least it wasn't too windy. He could deal with the drops of water making his arms moist if he didn't have to worry about falling to his death on his way up.

Of course, when Spencer moved his hand into Brendon's hair, and Brendon's skin seemed to heat even more, it was hard not to worry he'd steam up or something. But Spencer pulled Brendon closer, and touching their lips together again was enough to quiet his head.

It was totally obvious Spencer knew what he was doing. He tugged Brendon's head back by the hair gently, dragging his teeth over Brendon's lower lip. As Spencer slid the tip of his tongue in Brendon's mouth, a shock ran through Brendon, and he shivered. It'd be great if he could make Spencer shiver, too.

He sucked on Spencer's tongue as Brendon slid his hips closer. He wanted to get more of the taste from Spencer's mouth, but when Spencer groaned and moved his free hand to the small of Brendon's back, he did it again. Spencer held Brendon tighter, fingers digging into his skin. Brendon didn't want to move, but the fact that Spencer was purposely keeping Brendon still – or the idea of it, since Brendon had the strength to get back if he wanted - was kind of the best thing ever.

What was really weird was that Brendon wasn't tense anymore. He didn't necessarily want to calm down; the anticipation had made him want to hump the hell out of something, and making out with Spencer wasn't something that should've eased that. But the more they kissed, and the more turned on he got, the more he loosened up. Really, if Brendon got any more relaxed, he'd turn into a puddle.

Of course, it was only when the flush in his cheeks started to have more interesting effects lower in his body that Spencer broke away, panting quietly. His lips were shiny and red, too. Sweet.

"Geez, Spence. You're..."

Spencer's smile looked forced. Like he wasn't nearly as puddle-ready as Brendon. Brendon frowned. "You okay?"

Spencer nodded hard. He totally sucked at lying sometimes. "I'm just...we can try the tea, right? You don't mind?"

"Why would I mind?" He slid a hand on Spencer's arm. "Whatever you want."

Spencer grinned and laid a peck on Brendon's mouth. He crawled over to the tea again.

"But, uh." Bad idea. It was totally a bad idea. "You want to tell me about it?"

"Rather not. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." It came out a little strong, but at least Spencer didn't look pissed. A little flustered, maybe, but Brendon could work with that.

While Spencer lifted up the cups and set them down in front of Brendon, Brendon jiggled his foot. Communication was good, but it only worked both ways. Or something. That was the fuzzy part of Gerard's lecture. Brendon had been more focused on the kissing and the boners.

It was probably overkill, but as Spencer bobbed the silver balls and not-clear liquid sluiced through, Brendon said, "If you ever need to talk, you can, dude."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Like I didn't know that."

But he nudged Brendon before handing over a cup. Brendon smirked and took a sip.

-

It turned out catnip tea was really fucking awesome.

The last time they'd gotten stoned, Brendon had practically crawled his way back through the deserted city streets, even after sleeping off a lot of the high. This time, he was walking upright with a straight back. He'd even climbed down the Space Needle without flipping out. It was a total incognito high.

"You can go faster than that," Spencer said with mock severity. Then he giggled and leaned against a trash can.

Maybe it wasn't as incognito as Brendon had hoped.

"This is a good speed. Easy." Brendon blinked hard. His eyes and throat were totally normal, and his clothes probably didn't smell much. Spencer was a genius. "I walked way too fast the last time we did this."

"That's because you were running super speed and tripping over your feet."

"Oh." He walked slightly faster, and sure enough, it didn't feel too wild. "Whoa."

"See?"

"Thanks, Mr. Know-it-All."

He kissed Spencer on the cheek and bounced down the sidewalk. But when he twirled in place, he saw the way Spencer touched the spot Brendon had laid his lips upon, looking vaguely awed.

-

Mikey and Frank were taking up the couches when Brendon came downstairs the next day. It didn't look like their normal snuggling. As Brendon watched, Mikey pulled away a washcloth stained with blood, and Frank hissed. Not cuddling, then.

"Dude," Brendon said, padding over in his bare feet. "What the hell?"

"It's nothing," Frank said.

"He went out with some of the other X5s." Mikey wrung out the washcloth in a bowl of water, and a little dripped on the floor. Brendon watched the dot spread on the carpet. He never would've gotten away with being that messy in Manticore. "He took Jamia and Lindsay and Janelle."

Brendon tilted his head. "They're a good group."

"I know." Mikey scowled at Frank. "Which is why he shouldn't have ditched them."

Frank batted his eyelashes. Mikey just crossed his arms in response, so Frank turned to Brendon and tried it on him. Brendon was a little too busy staring at the gash on Frank's forehead to play along.

"Just a scratch," Frank said, dropping the act with a sigh. "It'll heal."

"So you ran into the Nomalies?"

"They ran into me, more like. With their fists." He turned back, and Mikey leaned in to clean off more dried blood around the wound. "I'll get them back tonight."

Mikey raised an eyebrow. "If..."

"If I actually stick around with my backup. If the bruises on my ribs weren't a clue, I learned my fucking lesson."

"I'll go with you." Spencer probably would, too - Brendon was mostly sure Spencer would be pissed if he got left behind - but it was better if Spencer said that on his own. "You wouldn't shake me off, would you?"

"Of course not," Frank said solemnly. He snickered when Mikey smacked his arm. "I'll let you know if I'm going to ditch you, how's that?"

Brendon sighed and shared a pained look with Mikey. It would have to work.

-

The solidity of Frank's promises didn't end up mattering when they went out. The Nomalies were nowhere to be found.

"Guess they went to ground," said Spencer, who of course, came along. He was perched at the edge of the building like it was nothing. "They did that to us before they heard we wanted to help."

Next to Spencer, Frank scowled. He was on the edge, too...and okay, so was Brendon. Brendon was just a little more tense about it. "Except they were attacking people."

"Not all of them," Brendon said. "Most of them aren't."

Frank stepped back. He ran a finger over the stitches he'd gotten earlier; the gash already looked almost healed. "Guess I should head to the studio so tonight isn't a complete waste of time. What about you two?"

Brendon caught Spencer's eye and grinned when Spencer waggled his eyebrows. "I think we're going to blow off some steam."

"Just don't get arrested." Of course Frank was completely serious, but there was a note in his voice that said, please do. Like he'd be proud.

Spencer saluted. The move was a sloppy mockery of their time in Manticore, but there was still something precise about it. Brendon knew it wasn't easy to shake a lifetime's training, after all.

Frank saluted back, sloppy enough that it'd be easy to believe he'd never been in Manticore, and dropped to climb down the drainpipe.

-

It was getting to the point where just seeing the High Place in the distance was enough to give Brendon a partial boner. And that was before they were sprawled on their blankets again and Spencer let Brendon's hands drift down to his ass. Really, the whole situation was almost miraculous and perfect enough for Brendon to reconsider his atheism. Almost.

But the second Brendon's hand started to creep around Spencer's hip, Spencer pulled back.

"Sorry," Brendon said. "You okay?"

Spencer's hand shook a little as he brought it up to his hair. Fuck. Spencer had said slow; why had Brendon pushed it? "Yeah. I'm fine."

Brendon didn't think he needed to repeat the whole "you can talk to me" speech. And considering Spencer was hunched in on himself a little, Brendon definitely wasn't going to touch him until Spencer gave the all-clear. But it didn't leave a lot of options for Brendon until Spencer said something. He settled for rubbing his palms over his jeans and willing his hard-on to go down.

"You're not...you're not mad, are you?"

Brendon froze. "Why would I be mad?"

"Because. Because I'm not." Spencer swallowed.

Brendon shook his head. "Exact opposite of mad, dude. You're amazing."

"I...what?"

Brendon had kind of been hoping to get a smile, so the look of confusion on Spencer's face was a little out of nowhere. Brendon could work with it, though. "You're ridiculously hot, and you let me touch you sometimes. I'm fucking lucky, dude."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. It's fine."

"I..." Spencer exhaled. "You remember when you were in Psy-Ops because you'd disobeyed orders?"

Brendon grinned. "Which time?"

"The first time."

Brendon chuckled quietly. He probably shouldn't. The mind control shit they did to other people sucked ass, but Brendon had a natural immunity to that kind of thing, so he'd play along as much as he'd felt like and then pretend it wore off. He'd avoided a lot of missions that way.

"That was..." The laughter died in Brendon's throat. "Your first mission."

Spencer had gone into Psy-Ops right after Brendon had left. It hadn't worked on him, either – he and Brendon and Ryan and Brent were the last in their generation, and they'd had extra tinkering – but that hadn't been a good thing. The others came out of Psy-Ops with their old missions wiped from their minds, but Spencer had come back stony-faced and quieter than usual. There were even a couple of nights where Brendon had heard him crying, Spencer never cried.

The last thing Brendon would ever do was force him into talking, but it hadn't stopped him from wondering.

"It wasn't as bad as it could've been." Brendon knew who Spencer was thinking about: Brent. He hadn't come back from his first mission, and he was far from the only one. "They didn't want a kill. They just wanted information, and I had to...stay close."

Brendon's throat tightened up. "Spence."

"Really close," Spencer said, like he couldn't hear Brendon. Judging by the way he stared at the floor near Brendon's knees, he probably didn't. "Or I'd blow my cover."

X5s healed fast. But Spencer had come back from Psy-Ops with bruises all over his face, most of them still dark and ugly. Brendon had always figured he'd fought his way out of his mission.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

It was Spencer's turn to laugh, and there was a genuine sound to it, but it was also awkward and forced. "Killed the mood, didn't I?"

He didn't want pity. Brendon wouldn't either. "We can still drink some tea."

"Fuck yes."

-

The roof the next day was solid, nearly flat. Brendon's shoes gripped it well, even when he put on X5 speed and ran from one end to the other. The only way the situation could be better is if they were on the ground.

He hadn't expected to be in Sector 5. Sector 5, to everyone's knowledge, was mostly filled with humans. Gerard had looked surprised when he'd shared Brian's report about activity there, and maybe even a little guilty.

"Brian said the officers in his unit have been tracking gang activity," Gerard had said. "It'd make sense if whoever was controlling the Nomalies used that as a way to slip under the radar."

The presence of gangs explained the intermittent gunfire Brendon was hearing. It was extra good to have solid roofing to climb around on.

Spencer was already waiting on the other side as Brendon skidded to a stop. They were perched over an open window, and if they could slide in, maybe they could get to anyone squatting inside. But they had to wait for the signal from Frank and Ray, who were circling on the ground.

They both flinched down as gunfire sounded again. Brendon even thought he saw flashes of light out of the corner of his eye, like it was in one of the alleys nearby.

Spencer bumped the mic in his collar. "We have a positive yet? Over."

There was only static. It was pretty common in Sector 5; it was the place in Seattle that supposedly took the most technological damage after the Pulse. Most of the interference came from broken machines that no one bothered to power down or fix.

"Damn it." Spencer bumped the mic again to keep the feedback from getting too loud. "I can't see a thing. You?"

Brendon peered down. "Yeah, see there? That looks like them."

He pointed at a couple of shadowy figures running around to the front door. Spencer waved down at them, and they waved back. Brendon could barely make out the hand signal that told them to hold their position, but he was pretty sure that's what they were doing.

"I think we're supposed to stay put," he said. He looked around the roof again. There was an access door. "Maybe we should watch the exit?"

Spencer shrugged. "Good as anything, I guess."

Brendon had just turned around when someone shouted, and more gunfire went off. He ducked down by the roof's lip, and Spencer was only seconds behind.

"Is this really what gangs are supposed to sound like?" Spencer said, half-yelling over the popping noises.

"I don't know!"

There was a loud noise from the sector gate, and they both jerked their heads to look up in that direction. Cop cars swarmed at the border, and as people grouped on the other side, the door was closing fast. Brendon could see flashes of light from inside the sector.

Spencer started crawling toward the access door; there were still enough bullets flying, even if most of them had moved out of range, that it was a bad idea to be upright. Brendon swallowed hard and went after him.

A large thumping noise started halfway to their destination. When Brendon looked over his shoulder back at the sector gate, it was closed and illuminated by spotlights. It was impossible to tell what it all meant.

"B!"

Spencer was at the door, crouched, reaching for the handle. But the door swung open as he waved for Brendon, and it hit him in the back of the head just as a dark figure came out. Brendon jumped to his feet as Spencer fell forward.

The dark figure growled, and Brendon froze. A Nomalie.

It happened fast from there. The kind of fast where Brendon's brain snapped every frame, like his brain was a camera.

The Nomalie - who wore a cap and a bulky jacket, but had some kind of tail swishing behind - rushed forward. To where Spencer was sprawled. Brendon was already running in front of the Nomalie, ready to get the jump on it...except it flanked to the side when it saw Brendon coming, and Brendon leapt to grab for him. He barely dug his fingers in his jacket before he realized, hey, the Nomalie was trying to jump for the opposite roof, and they were both tumbling, tripping over the ledge, falling down over the side of the building.

Brendon counted the stories of the building as he fell.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

And then everything went black.

-

"Wake up!"

Brendon groaned, but he opened his eyes. Spencer was standing over him, pale to the roots of his shorn hair, wringing his hands.

"You'll wake the others," Brendon said in a whisper. It was a good thing he could still hear the rest of the X5s in the room breathing deeply. It wouldn't be a good time for them to get in trouble.

"But Ryan."

"What about him?"

Spencer grabbed Brendon's arm. It was all Brendon could do to keep from falling on his face as he stumbled out of bed.

"I heard one of the guard's comms," Spencer said, dragging Brendon toward the loose window. "They've got Ryan in Psy-Ops for now, but they're moving him."

"To another room?"

"No. Another facility."

Brendon scrambled to get everything on the window loose. Spencer's breath was hitching, like he was crying quietly, but Brendon couldn't take the time to make sure. Spencer wouldn't want him to, anyway.

They made it out to the roof. It was cold in the middle of January, and icy, so Brendon skidded more often than he walked. He had to jam his hands under his armpits to keep them warm, but at least he knew from training that he wouldn't lose anything important unless he was out here for days.

"There!" Spencer pointed toward the main gate, and Brendon could see a line of thin, nearly bald X5s their age filing into a truck. He focused his vision.

Ryan was at the end of the line.

"What...what should we do?" Brendon asked, shaking a little with the cold.

"Get him!"

"But after that. They'll find out. We'll have to leave."

"I know." Spencer's eyes filled with tears. Brendon couldn't say no to that.

He ran.

Brendon knew the paths better than Spencer - he'd been practicing for years with Frank - so he made better time. He crawled past his usual hiding spot so the guard tower wouldn't see him, and he flat out ran to the blind spot that led to a dead power line. Skimming on the line would bring him to a pipe across to the main building, and he could drop to the ground from there. He could grab Ryan's arm and go for the fence, maybe out the front door if the truck driver had left it open. From there...

He got to his feet to jump for the power line. But as soon as he swung his arms once, his foot slipped. He didn't have the momentum to make the line, and there was nothing to grab as he slipped off the roof. Nothing but the gutter.

A gasp escaped Brendon's mouth as his hands curled around the metal. His body slapped against the building, and he flinched. That was loud enough to hear. They'd get him.

Spencer skidded to a stop over him.

"Go!" Brendon whispered, hands shaking. It was a six-story drop from here. If he'd made it to the pipe, that was two. He could've survived two stories. "The power line will get you down."

"Take my hand." Spencer lowered his arm.

Brendon glanced over. No guards were looking at them because only two kids were left. One of them was Ryan.

"There's no time!" he gasped, trying to get his elbow over the gutter for leverage. It didn't work.

Spencer's fingers stopped right next to Brendon's right hand.

"Go!" Brendon said again. His left hand was starting to slip. He watched his feet dangling over darkness; he couldn't bring himself to adjust to see how far the bottom was. The fall would probably be fast, at least.

"Brendon."

He kicked for the wall. There were no windowsills to balance on, no cracks to brace with. If one hand lost its grip, that would be it.

"Brendon, look at me."

He did. Up and up, into Spencer's steady blue eyes. They were completely dry.

"Grab on," Spencer said. "Come on."

Brendon took a breath. "I'm scared."

"I know. But I'll get you. I promise."

Brendon gritted his teeth, and he threw his right hand up. His left hand slipped completely, and...

...Spencer grabbed his wrist. He braced himself on the roof, pulling Brendon up to meet him easily. He even wrapped his arm around Brendon's waist to keep them from falling over and braced him on vents nearby.

When Brendon could breathe enough to look back over his shoulder, the truck was already making its way out the road. There was no way they'd have enough time to catch up before someone found them.

He stifled a sob. "I'm sorry."

Spencer smiled, brushing a hand over Brendon's buzzed hair. It was a sad smile. "It's not your fault."

They stayed on the roof for another hour after that, making their way back slowly. Brendon shook every time he came near the edge. It was only when they made it to their normal resting spot that Brendon started to cry, and it was Spencer who held him.

Spencer, who'd just lost his best friend in the world, spent the rest of the night comforting Brendon. He never asked for anything back.

-

"–you hear me?"

"Mmm?" Brendon said. He snaked his arms around himself, even though it didn't feel cold. It should've felt cold, shouldn't it? The roof was cold in mid-January, and–

Someone pried open his eyelid and shined a light in. Brendon flinched away, but the hand pulled open his other eyelid and did it again.

"Ow," Brendon said. And then the pain in his head radiated. "Ow."

He forced his eyes open again. In the darkness, holding his wrist to check his pulse, was none other than Dallon. Brendon gaped at him as Dallon drew his fingers back and carefully twisted Brendon's left wrist back and forth.

"Does that hurt?" Dallon asked.

Brendon shook his head, and wow, was that a mistake. The room swum around him. "Fuck."

"Just stick to verbal responses, I guess." He picked up Brendon's other wrist, and yeah, that fucking hurt. Dallon nodded absently at Brendon's noise of pain and made a note on his computer.

"Where did you come from?" Brendon asked. "I thought..."

"I was dead? Nah." Dallon was actually smiling a little. Weird. "Got friends in talented places."

"But Pedicone–"

"Tried to steal something from Frank last time he was here, if what Mikey told me was right."

"Did he?" Brendon shifted up a little and immediately regretted it. "Did Spencer..."

"Take it easy. Spencer's just outside. He was trying to get your backup generator working." Dallon cleared his throat and said loudly, "He's awake."

The door slammed open and Spencer's pale, wide-eyed face appeared. Brendon grinned.

"I should kick your ass," Spencer said in a low voice.

"Hello to you, too."

"Don't kick his ass yet." Dallon took off a pair of rubber gloves and tucked them in his pocket instead of throwing them in the trash. Probably because, as far as Brendon could see, they were in his and Spencer's bedroom. He couldn't remember getting back. "He'll need a night's rest to heal the neck injury the rest of the way, and a day or two on the leg."

"Leg?" Brendon glanced down. Sure enough, it was wrapped in a splint. He leaned back against his pillows with a groan.

But just when he was really about to kick up a fuss, a golden light filled the room, and electronics throughout the house whirred to life. Dallon smiled. "Good timing. I was just wondering if Gerard would let me test the blood sample I took, but if the power was out..."

"Eyes Only's generators always work during sector blackouts, but yeah." Spencer held up a finger. "I should make sure Frank's not in the house."

"Right," Dallon said with a sigh. Frank wasn't his biggest fan. Which was ridiculous because Dallon did a fuckload of work making sure Brendon and Spencer stayed in contact with Frank after his first break-out. Frank just got cranky sometimes.

As Spencer ducked downstairs, Dallon rolled his head on his neck. "Sorry to say it, but..."

"Bed rest?"

Dallon nodded and smiled wryly when Brendon grimaced. He'd seen firsthand before how much Brendon hated those words. "Bed rest."

Brendon sighed dramatically. "So much for my skateboarding career."

"If you hadn't landed on trash, you'd need more than a few days to heal." Dallon snorted. "Heck, be glad you're not human. If I took a fall like you did, I'd be a splatter on pavement."

"A well-dressed one."

Dallon adjusted his bow tie. "Can't deny that."

The door cracked open, and Spencer slipped back inside. "Frank's out, probably until dawn. Gerard's waiting for you."

"Thanks, man." He clapped a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "The blood work's just backup, okay?"

Spencer nodded curtly, and Dallon patted his arm once before walking out and closing the door.

"You're going to wait on me," Brendon said, lacing his fingers together. "What's the phrase? Hand and foot? I definitely need a foot. My poor, poor–"

He cut off as Spencer leaned in and kissed him. Brendon's head spun, but it wasn't the injuries. Probably. Either way, he closed his eyes and kissed back.

"Don't do that shit." Spencer pulled back his lips enough to talk, but he started laying light kisses on Brendon's jaw, so the lecture obviously wasn't that important to him. "Just don't."

"Yeah. You'll lose your tea buddy." Brendon sighed. "And just when I was thinking about bringing doilies, too."

His breathless voice kind of ruined the joke, but Spencer paused. "Is that all I am to you?"

Brendon sat up quickly to protest, but everything went really wobbly, and he actually had to bend over and barf. Luckily, there was a trash can right next to his bed, so he didn't get the floor disgusting. Much.

Spencer rubbed his back until he sat up again. "Take it easy."

"Right," Brendon said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Fell off a building. Think I'd remember that."

Spencer rolled his eyes.

"And no, to answer your question." Brendon bit his lip. "I'm actually kind of in love with you."

It was shitty timing as far as life-changing declarations went, but he'd loved Spencer since he saw him eat the bread Brendon had saved. It was obvious, thinking back. No reason to waste more time.

Spencer, to Brendon's relief, smiled back. "Good. Because I thought you were dead earlier, and I don't think I could take my heart getting crushed on top of that."

"Please. Like a building fall could kill me." Fucking roofs. He'd never be a fan. "Even if, uh, there was a riot or something."

"Gangs took over Sector 5, so pretty much."

"Wow. Getting out must've been an adventure."

Spencer smirked. "You have no idea. But we got the Nomalie."

"Seriously?"

"Gerard had some of his sources run tests while you were out. Looks like Manticore was dosing them. He's working on an antidote right now."

Brendon grinned. If he had to fall off a building, there were worse outcomes.

"So I have a question," he said, shifting on his pillow, "and if this is too much, say so."

"Okay."

"Why don't we push our beds together?" Brendon pointed the few feet between their twins. Spencer stiffened, so Brendon said quickly, "I'm not going to be much fun to snuggle with a cast, but I'm up for trying if you are."

"What about Ian?" That, combined with Spencer's impish smile, did a lot to loosen the knots in Brendon's chest.

"Ian," Brendon said with a laugh, "can have the guest bedroom downstairs."

Instead of answering, Spencer went to his bed and shoved it over. He plopped down next to Brendon and slung an arm over his shoulder, and Brendon sighed happily.

"Just don't kick me in your sleep," he said.

Spencer kissed his forehead in reply.

Art | Mix