The Joke's on You

“Hey,” Brendon enthuses, his face lit up like Christmas has come early. “I know what we’re gonna do for April Fools this year.”

Spencer eyes him warily. That look never means anything good. “We?”

“We,” Brendon confirms, still grinning, “are going to pretend we’ve gotten married.”

“No,” Spencer says immediately. “This is the worst idea anyone has ever had ever, and that’s including the wolf musical. We are not pretending we’ve gotten married.”

Brendon pouts.

***

They pretend they’re getting married.

They have an interview scheduled with some magazine or another the day before the first of April and they’re going to drop the bombshell then, amidst talk of the band and the album and the split that Spencer wishes people would forget about considering it happened two fucking years ago, but whatever.

The interview is going to be a disaster, Spencer knows this, but he’s never quite been able to say no to Brendon, especially when he pouts like that. Stupid manipulative bastard.

***

“So,” the pretty ginger-haired woman doing the interview says during a lull in conversation, “you two seem pretty close. Is your relationship better, now it’s just the two of you?”

Spencer can almost feel Brendon break into a grin beside him, and just about resists the urge to groan. This is the in that Brendon has been waiting for, and that Spencer has been dreading.

“Yeah,” Brendon says, lacing their fingers together in full view of the camera, “I guess you could say that. There have definitely been... developments.”

The woman leans forward, renewed interest in her eyes. “Oh yeah? What kind of developments?”

“Well,” Brendon says, coyly, “we sort of tied the knot a couple of days ago.”

***

The world just about loses its mind. That’s how it seems to Spencer, anyway.

People seem to be divided into several different camps: the ones who were apparently rooting for them to get together all along; the ones who are die-hard Ryden shippers – and Spencer only knows what that means because of a link Pete sent him one time which he’s tried with little success to scrub from his memory ever since – who think he should go die in a fire for stealing Brendon away; the homophobic assholes who keep leaving them internet hate; the ones who simply do not give two shits about the situation and the ones who find the whole thing utterly hilarious.

Ryan falls into the last category. Ryan Ross, Spencer’s best friend since they were tiny, who’s supposed to be there for him no matter what and all that bullshit, laughs down the phone when the interview goes viral in just under two hours.

“I have no idea why I’m still friends with you,” Spencer says, in a monotone Ryan should be proud of. “You are a dick.”

Ryan only laughs harder. He’s still hysterical when Spencer hangs up on him a few minutes later.

***

“So,” Jon says when he calls, “you and Brendon are married now.”

He sounds like he’s biting back a laugh and Spencer loves him for trying. Jon is a good friend. Spencer should’ve fake-married Jon instead. Jon wouldn’t have embarrassed him in front of the whole world for an awful April Fools prank. Spencer loves Jon.

“Yeah,” Spencer says, heaving a sigh, “me and Brendon are married now and we have a piece of paper to prove it.”

(This part is, unfortunately, true. Brendon wanted to make it seem more authentic and Spencer didn’t want to burst his bubble by telling him that having an actual piece of paper with their names on it declaring the commitment they’ve made kind of took the fake out of their fake marriage. He’s not sure it counts, anyway, since it was forged by, of all people, Dallon. He is not as innocent as he looks, and just as susceptible to Brendon’s pout as Spencer is.)

“Well,” Jon says, struggling to keep his voice even, “that’s, um, I’m really happy for you. Both of you. I hope you, uh, have many happy years together.”

Hours, Spencer corrects him silently. There are less than twenty four hours before they reveal to the world that this was all an elaborate prank. He can’t wait. Really, he cannot fucking wait.

“Thank you,” he says stiffly. “I do too.”

There’s a crackle of static down the phone that sounds suspiciously like a snort. Or perhaps a stifled giggle. Spencer narrows his eyes.

“Jon Walker,” he says, slowly, deadly, “are you laughing at me?”

“Um. No?” Jon ventures, but Spencer can hear the laughter in his voice. Sure enough, he bursts into helpless giggles mere seconds later. “Sorry,” he wheezes out, “but, seriously, this is even funnier than when Ryan wanted to make a wolf musical. Sorry, Spence.”

Spencer hates Jon. Jon is a horrible friend. At least Ryan never pretends not to be an asshole, god.

***

Spencer warned his parents beforehand so they wouldn’t completely lose it when the news hit – they laughed too, the unsympathetic bastards; Spencer hates everyone – but Brendon didn’t tell his family about it, which is why when Spencer’s on his way to meet Brendon for coffee – a date, he called it, pointedly ignoring Spencer’s eye-roll – he gets a call from Kara.

“So you and my little brother are married now,” she says slowly, after a few minutes of torturous silence.

“Um,” Spencer says. He doesn’t want to lie to Kara, but she’s Brendon’s sister. He should be dealing with this, not Spencer. His life is so unfair. Someone upstairs must really, really hate him. “Yes?”

“Huh,” Kara says, just as slowly. She sounds like she’s still processing this information. Spencer understands; he’s still processing it too. “I see.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says awkwardly, because he isn’t sure what else there is to say.

“You know if you break his heart,” Kara says carefully, “our entire family will come after you, right?”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think about how Brendon so isn’t the one she ought to be worried about. “I know,” is all he says. He wouldn’t expect anything else.

“Good,” Kara says, after a moment. “You know, Spencer, if my brother had to marry a boy, I’m glad it was you.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, his throat tight, “me too.”

***

“So how’s it going?” Brendon asks, grinning broadly. He’s still finding the whole thing hilarious; he even managed to laugh off the homophobic hate without the glint in his eyes dulling even a little bit. Spencer envies him that.

“Awful,” Spencer replies, sliding into the seat across from Brendon. “You?”

“I just got the speech from Ryan, actually,” Brendon informs him, pushing a cup of coffee across to Spencer. He takes a cursory sip and smiles; it’s just the way he likes it. “You know, the whole ‘he is my best friend and if you hurt him I will cut off your balls’ speech. It was kinda sweet, really. Ryan’s about as intimidating as a kitten.”

“I got the same off your sister, actually,” Spencer says evenly. He feels rather than sees Brendon stiffen because he’s staring at his cup of coffee. “Kara said your family would come after me if I broke your heart.”

“Oh,” Brendon says, a beat too late. “Kara called you?”

Spencer nods and, figuring he doesn’t have anything else to lose – his dignity abandoned him a long, long time ago – says, “She said that if you had to marry a boy, she’s glad it was me.”

He looks up at Brendon then, at his flushed cheeks and bitten lips and the crease between his downcast eyes, and wonders what on earth he’s supposed to take that look on his face to mean.

“Oh,” Brendon repeats. “That’s, um, that’s good, right?” He forces a shaky laugh. “It’s gonna be hilarious when they find out this wasn’t real.”

“Yeah,” Spencer echoes, still watching Brendon intently. “Hilarious. Did Jon call you too?”

“Yes he did,” Brendon says immediately, and Spencer can tell he’s grateful for the swift change of subject. “He laughed, like, a lot, and then he said you’re a very special boy and I’m lucky to have you and I have to treat you right so you don’t leave me.”

“Too right,” Spencer chuckles, wagging his finger mock-threateningly at Brendon. “I’m married to a rock-star; I’m expecting the good stuff. Shopping trips, massages whenever I want them, free coffee...”

Brendon nods mock-seriously. “Of course. Shall I get you more coffee, Mr Smith-Urie?”

“That’s Urie-Smith, I’ll have you know,” Spencer corrects him, eyes narrowed.

“Whatever you say, Spence,” Brendon replies, giggling, and Spencer hides his smile behind his coffee cup.

***

At midnight on the second of April, Brendon tweets two words: April Fools! Spencer retweets him, because Brendon tells him to and because Brendon is sitting right next to him and because Brendon has pointy fucking elbows, but he adds a sorry guys to the start of the tweet because he’s just considerate that way.

(People now seem to be divided into those who think they’re hilarious and those who think they’re dicks. Spencer’s sympathies lie with the latter. No prizes for guessing Brendon’s.)

“Best April Fools ever,” he declares, gleeful, as his @replies start to pile up.

“Yeah,” Spencer echoes, “totally.”

Brendon stops laughing long enough to glance up at him in concern. “You okay, Spence?”

“Fine,” Spencer mutters, tapping his iPhone against his leg. “It’s not every day you get fake-married and fake-divorced after all, is it?”

Brendon narrows his eyes, the laughter gone from his face. “You said you were okay with this.”

Spencer gives a hollow laugh. “It’s not like I could say no,” he points out. “This is the happiest you’ve been in forever.”

“Okay, so what’s your problem, then?” Brendon demands, eyes flashing. “Is it the gay thing? Is that what this is?”

“Brendon, do you know me at all?” Spencer retorts, unable to help the way his voice rises. “My best friend is Ryan Ross. I could not have less of a problem with the gay thing.”

“Oh, I get it,” Brendon says, but the laugh that follows isn’t pleasant at all. “It’s because it’s me.”

“Brendon,” Spencer says, exasperated, “it’s not because it’s you.” (Except it is, but Spencer can’t tell Brendon that, that he liked being Mr and Mr Urie-Smith, liked pretending the rings on their fingers meant something. He certainly can’t tell him about the dreams, about the fantasies, about the six-year-old Brendon-shaped box in the back of his head.) “It’s just- it’s complicated, okay? You got what you wanted, your fucking hilarious April Fools, so just leave me alone and let me at least try and forget today ever happened.”

“Fine,” Brendon says quietly, gaze fixed on the floor. “If that’s- if that’s what you want.”

Isn’t that what Brendon wants? “It is,” Spencer says, getting to his feet. He slides the silver ring off his finger and holds it out to Brendon. “Here, nearly forgot.”

Brendon looks up at him with hollow eyes, and he doesn’t touch Spencer’s hand for longer than he has to when he takes the ring. Spencer walks out of the apartment and doesn’t let himself look back.

***

“Fucker,” Ryan says, when he calls a few hours later. Spencer rolled out of bed, thinking – hoping – it’d be Brendon. “You two got me real good, you know that?”

Spencer makes a vague hum of acknowledgement. “We got the whole world real good,” he says around a yawn.

“You should’ve told me, though,” Ryan says, reproachful.

“You didn’t tell me when you pretended you and Z got married,” Spencer reminds him.

Ryan makes a dismissive sound. “We weren’t really talking then, I didn’t think you’d care. And I was nowhere near as elaborate as you and Brendon were. I mean, seriously, magazine interviews? It’s like you didn’t want people to believe it was just a joke.”

“Brendon,” Spencer says, by way of explanation, because it is seriously enough of an explanation by itself.

“Well, obviously,” Ryan says, his accompanying eye-roll practically audible. “Are you okay?”

Spencer frowns at the change of subject. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Spencer,” Ryan sighs, like Spencer is a particularly troublesome chorus that refuses to sound like it should, “you just got fake-married and fake-divorced to the guy you’ve been in love with for six years. You’re my best friend, I know you. There is no way you don’t feel like shit right now.”

Spencer gapes at the phone. Finally, when he thinks he’s capable of forming coherent sentences, he puts it back to his ear and says, “I’m not in love with Brendon.”

“Please,” Ryan snorts. “The only person who doesn’t know you’re in love with Brendon is Brendon. Jesus, for a smart guy you can be so dumb sometimes.”

Spencer swallows, hard. He sort of resigned himself to being hopelessly, ridiculously in love with Brendon a very long time ago, but he didn’t think he was that obvious. He’s seriously fucked if Ryan – Ryan – figured it out.

“It’s okay, though,” Ryan continues, “’cause Brendon’s seriously as dumb as you are. I’m pretty sure the two of you have been pining for each other the exact same amount of time. It would be adorable if it weren’t utterly pathetic.”

Spencer gapes at the phone again but it doesn’t take him as long to recover this time. “Brendon is straight,” he says, because this is undeniably true and he doesn’t have to hesitate. “Brendon is not in love with me.”

“So dumb,” Ryan repeats, “seriously. Just tell him how you feel or I swear to God, Spence, I will do what I should’ve done years ago and tell him myself.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” Spencer says immediately.

“Oh yeah?” Ryan challenges.

Spencer’s silent for a few moments before he says, resigned, “Oh, fuck you.”

“Tell him,” Ryan orders, and then he hangs up.

***

When Spencer wakes the next morning, it’s to loud banging on his front door. He groans and rolls over, burying his head in the pillow. It’s far too early for this. When the banging doesn’t stop, he drags himself out of bed and stomps towards the door, a growl in his throat and a scowl on his face. Too. Early.

He flings the door open, fully ready to unleash his pre-caffeine self on whoever’s foolish enough to disturb him at this ungodly hour, but the words die in his throat when he sees who’s standing on his doorstep.

“Hi,” Brendon says, shifting awkwardly on the spot. His hair’s mussed up like he just rolled out of bed and he’s blinking the tiredness from his bleary eyes and it looks like he’s just thrown on the clothes he was wearing yesterday, rumpled and wrinkled from spending the night in a heap on his floor. It’s kind of ridiculous how much Spencer wants to kiss him. “Ryan called me. He said you had something you needed to say to me?”

Spencer sets his jaw. If Ryan has so much as mentioned something to Brendon, he is worse than dead when Spencer gets his hands on him.

“I guess. I’m sorry for earlier,” he says shortly. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“Oh.” Spencer might be imagining things, but he thinks Brendon looks... disappointed? “Is that it? Ryan woke me up at five am so you could apologise?” Spencer just shrugs in response. “Right, okay. I guess I should apologise too, then,” Brendon says, rubbing at his tired eyes. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I should’ve realised you weren’t, uh, okay with this.”

“It wasn’t that awkward,” Spencer says, because he feels like he should. “I mean, it was kind of fun. A little bit. Never did get that shopping trip, or the massage, though.”

He means it as a joke, to lighten the mood and to put the smile back on Brendon’s face because it looks so alien without it, but Brendon’s eyes are wholly serious when he says, “I could still give you that massage, if you want. You know. If you want.”

Spencer swallows, hard. “Brendon, I-”

“Ryan said we have to talk about our feelings and stop being idiots,” Brendon blurts out, before Spencer can finish whatever it was he was trying to say. “I don’t know about the feelings part, but this is me not being an idiot any more.”

He steps forward and tilts his head up until his lips are inches from Spencer’s and then he’s kissing him, soft and tentative and everything Spencer has apparently not-so-secretly been wanting for six years now.

“Please tell me,” Spencer says, when they break apart, “that was not another April Fool.”

Brendon rolls his eyes and kisses him again, which Spencer takes to be a pretty decisive no. He grins, but out of delight or just pure relief he doesn’t know.