Finding Answers in Wrinkles

“You want to what?” Spencer asks, incredulous.

“God, you make it sound like I want to ravish you against a wall or something,” Brendon mutters, a furious blush rising on his cheeks. “It’s not that weird.”

Spencer wouldn’t mind the ravishing so much, actually, but he’s not about to say that out loud. “Seriously, though,” he says, slowly, because he’s still not sure he heard right, “you wanna read my palm?”

(Brendon’s hanging out at his place because it’s Friday and everyone else their age – including Ryan, Spencer’s so-called best friend who ditched him for a date with a girl; Spencer feels so betrayed – is out enjoying themselves. Spencer spent about ten minutes playing Halo before giving in and calling Brendon, because anything was better than spending the night by himself, again.)

“Yes, I wanna read your palm, my sister taught me how to one time when we were bored as fuck on holiday,” Brendon mumbles, staring determinedly at Spencer’s carpet. “I just thought- forget it, we can go back to playing video games or whatever, I don’t-”

“No,” Spencer says quickly, cutting Brendon off before he can really get going, “it’s fine, it’s just- palm-reading? Seriously?”

Brendon looks up at him, biting his lip. “I will deny this to my death if you ever tell anyone, especially Ryan, but it’s actually kinda fun,” he confesses, lips tugging up into that goofy little smile of his. “Most of it’s probably bullshit, but it’s just- interesting. Like, some of the stuff you see. It’s kinda cool. But if it freaks you out-”

“It doesn’t,” Spencer says, shaking his head firmly, because he kind of feels like an asshole right now. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all. You can, if you want.”

(Though he doesn’t really know why Brendon would want to. It’s not like Spencer has particularly interesting palms or anything. They’re pretty average, he reckons. But then, what does he know about hands? He could be a palm-reader’s wet dream and not have a clue.)

“If that’s okay,” Brendon says, hesitant. When Spencer just nods, he beams and grabs him by the arm to tug him up onto the bed. Spencer’s bed.

“Whoa, wait, why do we have to do this on my bed?” Spencer asks warily. “What’s wrong with the floor?”

“I like your bed.” Brendon shrugs, like it’s that simple. “It’s comfy. The floor is not.”

Spencer just about resists the urge to groan. This is so not at all the way he wanted to get Brendon into bed. His plan involved a lot more sweet-talking. And, like, actual seduction. And a lot fewer clothes.

“So, um,” he says, shaking his head a little, “how do you wanna do this?”

Brendon gives him a weird look. “Unless you want me to cut off your hand at the wrist,” he says slowly, “I’m gonna have to hold it. That won’t be weird, right?” Spencer obviously hesitates too long, turning the idea of Brendon actually holding his hand over in his head, because Brendon mumbles, “Shit, it’s weird, I wanna read your palm, of course it’s weird. God, this is so awkward, can we just forget I ever said anything?”

“No, wait, it’s okay,” Spencer says, thrusting his hand at Brendon, “do your thing. You’ve got me curious now, I wanna know what my palm says. Please?”

“Okay,” Brendon says, on an exhale. “But if it gets weird, even just a little bit, you’ll tell me to stop, right?”

Spencer rolls his eyes. “What, you want a safeword or something?”

“Only if you think I won’t be able to stop, baby,” Brendon replies, his lips curled into a vague approximation of a leer.

Spencer promptly cracks up laughing and the air clears between them, just a little. “Whatever, I trust you and all that shit. Let’s do this.”

Brendon smiles a little, to himself, then takes Spencer’s hand in his. His fingers are soft and warm and lightly calloused from playing guitar and Spencer’s kind of shocked by how nice it feels, Brendon’s thumb rubbing experimentally over his skin like he’s learning the ridges and grooves. It’s not even like he’s doing anything special with it, but Spencer can feel Brendon’s touch right the way down to his toes – and, uh, other places. He hopes Brendon’s too distracted by his obviously fascinating palm to notice how red his face has turned.

“So, okay,” Brendon says, taking a deep breath. “This is your life line, right here. There’s another one there, see? That means you’ve got great vitality in your life.” He frowns, finger halting on the sensitive skin. “It’s shallow, which means you’re easily controlled by others, and it’s straight, which means-” He breaks off and glances up, a look of vague curiosity on his face. “You’re cautious. Like, with love. And other people. You don’t let them in easily.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Spencer says, trying and mostly failing to sound light. It’s hard to pull it off when his breath hitches every time Brendon moves his fingers. He’s not entirely sure how the other boy hasn’t noticed yet, actually. “What’s the rest of it mean?”

“Right, yeah. This is your head line,” Brendon says, tracing across Spencer’s palm with a finger.

Spencer outright shivers, to his intense and everlasting humiliation, and Brendon gives him a look of concern. “Tickles,” is all he says, hoping it’s enough.

“Sorry,” Brendon says softly, ducking his head again. “So, your head line. It’s, um, it’s pretty deep, which means you’re a clear-thinker with a focused mind-” Yeah, Spencer thinks, gaze drawn to the way Brendon’s biting his lip, it’s very focused right now. “-and it’s kind of crossed in lots of places, so that means you’ve made important decisions.” He clears his throat, shakes his head, smiles at something Spencer can’t see. “You kind of don’t have a fate line, Spence – that’s okay, not everyone does – but your heart line is interesting.”

“Interesting?” Spencer asks, inhaling a shallow breath. “What do you mean? I’m not, like, destined to die alone or something, right?”

Brendon laughs softly, deft fingers still working over Spencer’s skin. “No, that isn’t how it works. Palm-reading is, like...” He scrunches up his face in a way which most definitely does not make Spencer want to push him down on the bed and do unspeakable things to him. “It doesn’t show you the future or anything, it’s not like your own personal crystal ball. It’s more like a look into the past, your past.” He glances away, cheeks reddening. “Kara explained it better than me, sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Spencer says, with a smile he hopes is at least vaguely reassuring. “I think I get it. So what’s interesting about my heart line, then?”

“Well, it runs, like, almost exactly parallel with your head line which means you’re good at controlling your emotions, which you totally are, Spencer Smith, don’t even try and deny it, but it touches your life line here, see, which means-” Brendon bites his lip again and Spencer tries not to stare at the way his teeth dig into the familiar grooves of the skin. “You get your heart broken easily.”

Spencer closes his eyes, helpless. There is no way – no way in the world – he should be this turned on by having his palms read. By Brendon. But then, it is Brendon, so Spencer figures he can be excused for being so embarrassingly pathetic.

“Spencer,” Brendon says, but it sounds more like an exhalation of breath than anything else, “is this weird?”

Spencer opens his eyes. Somewhere along the line, Brendon shifted until he was almost sitting in his lap and now he’s so close Spencer wouldn’t even have to lean forward to press their lips together. And Brendon’s looking at him, eyes wide and lip drawn in between his teeth, like- like maybe he wouldn’t mind if Spencer did. Like maybe he wouldn’t shove him away and kick him in the balls. Like maybe... maybe he would kiss him back.

“It’s a bit weird, yeah,” Spencer breathes, and Brendon promptly drops his hand like it’s burning.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, turning away, but not before Spencer sees the way his face falls. He blinks, though, and the next second Brendon’s smile is too wide for it to be real.

“Hey, no-” Spencer reaches out and touches him, feeling Brendon’s body tighten. Shifting, he takes Brendon’s chin between his fingers and tilts it up, raising Brendon’s gaze with it. He looks- well, he looks a little scared, actually, but there’s an edge of defiance Spencer’s learning to recognise as a defence mechanism. “It’s okay, it wasn’t- I’m not gonna hurt you, Bren.”

Brendon exhales, slowly. “I know,” he says, but it sounds like a lie.

“Brendon,” Spencer says, quiet and despairing, and then he leans down the inch or so he has on Brendon and kisses him.

Brendon makes a startled noise and freezes up and Spencer’s heart sinks. He pulls away, already forming a million apologies in his brain, but then Brendon grabs the front of his shirt and yanks him back down.

“Spencer,” he breathes, eyes impossibly wide, “Spence.”

And then they’re kissing again, noses bumping and teeth clashing and Brendon giggling too hard into Spencer’s mouth. This is really not how he envisioned their first kiss at all but he can’t bring himself to care because he’s kissing Brendon and it’s awesome.

When they break off to breathe, Brendon leans his head onto Spencer’s shoulder. “Finally,” he sighs happily. When Spencer arches an eyebrow, he elaborates, shaking his head, “We need to work on your ability to know when I want to make out.”

“Huh?”

“Seriously, Spence,” Brendon says, playing absently with the hem of Spencer’s shirt, “how did you not realise that let me read your palm was super awesome secret code for make out with me?”

“It’s so obvious,” Spencer says dryly. “I don’t know how I could’ve possibly misunderstood.”

“I know, right?” Brendon says, grinning when Spencer rolls his eyes at him.

“Maybe we should work on your super awesome secret code,” Spencer suggests. “How about next time you want me to kiss you, you just ask, okay?”

Brendon beams, tilts his head up. “Hey,” he says, breath ghosting over Spencer’s lips.

“Hey,” Spencer says back, his heart pounding in his chest because he knows what’s coming next.

“Make out with me, Spencer Smith,” Brendon whispers, and he is only too happy to oblige.